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teyamsatan · 1 year

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi - spark

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before.

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words.

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?”

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel.

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.”

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen.

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him.

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now.

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance.

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you.

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?”

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face.

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for.

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.”

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?”

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force.

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying.

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.”

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described.

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face.

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.”

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.”

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be.

“O'ì'en…”

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either.

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.”

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself.

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him.

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?”

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all.

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.”

“O'ì'en, no…”

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.”

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong.

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage.

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.”

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today.

“I hope you forgive me one day.”

“Me, too.”

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.”

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption.

“Am I interrupting?”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.”

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will.

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?”

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.”

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?”

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.”

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.”

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going.

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?”

“Argh, I-“

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last.

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak @sweetbread-m @eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog

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melonminnie · 1 year

Note

Hello! I'm back, hehehe well I came to ask you something, would you be willing to write for action manhwas? Sorry is that I am addicted to them, blame daddy sung jinwoo.

Leaving the topic, can I have more yandere platonic but this time from Who made me a princess? I have a scenario, maybe the reader was a girl fed up with her life, so you know, she killed herself and ended up opening her eyes in this manhwa and worst of all, she is a rejected daughter of claude.

So in order to survive, she hides from him, contrary to what Atty would do, she decides she doesn't want his attention. She already suffered a lot in her other life from being ignored and crushed by others, as if her feelings were nothing more than garbage and dog poop. That's why this time he doesn't even try, like have you seen the female leads in almost every manhwa quwrer to live and shit? Well, our dear reader DOES NOT WANT TO LIVE, she is tired and fed up with everything.

But imagine if, by chance, an old diary is found in an abandoned library in the ruby palace (forgot to say, but this is 4 years before the initial story, so my reader is 7 at the time) going back to the diary, she He finds it and it turns out that it is magical. So somehow he travels to the past through this book and without thinking he wanders through the old palace finding Claude crying as a child. Because the reader doesn't give a damn about her life, she begins to establish a friendship because if she was already here, why waste this opportunity? he also hates the adult claude ironically he is his dad.

All that shit from his childhood happens and for 4 years the reader goes back and forth from the past to the future, we reach the point where the adult claude remembers that girl a lot and becomes obsessed with finding her since she was his emotional support. Sorry for all that stuff, now imagine that the plot begins and our reader knows it, that's why she decides to run away taking some money (for some reason she became friends with Felix and he gave her 500 gold coins so she can run away) Like reader hates attention, leaves the palace and lives in a cabin, now we move on to claude still having those dreams with that little girl who was becoming a woman, this was always platonic but he is obsessed with finding her, he promised as a child to return all his care and comfort.

She's the only one who knows him best, but we know the reader doesn't care about anyone and just wants to die in a quiet place.

Annnd, you can develop this better, in the end I would like claude to find out that his daughter has always been his best friend in some way and end up locking her up to prevent her from leaving again. I do not know

And I leave you a gift again, hehehe I edited it for a fanfic that I will never finish or publish

(PS: I traced the lineart of the official art, but the coloring is mine and it is based on that scene, this is already old so it has errors)

YAN! CLAUDE X DAUGHTER! READER (platonic)

-Hihi I’m glad you’re back!! Unfortunately I doubt I’ll be writing for adventure manhwa at the moment sense I only read romance at the moment but maybe in the future! Reader has the same appearance as athy, fyi your art always amazes me!! Thank you for requesting mwah 🫶🫶

WARNING EXTREME WARNING CONTAINS SUICIDE DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE this is also extremely confusing I tried making it sound normal 🫶🫶🫶

“Why would she want to die?” Asked one of the dead girls friends, “dunno she had everything yet she became greedy” said the other, standing in front her grave, if the girl was still alive she would’ve choked her, only a pathetic person would be able to make fun of a person in-front their own grave.

Well it’s not like she heard it anyway, and frankly if she did at the moment she wouldn’t care, “I mean she was pathetic with her reincarnation thing and reading fake stuff about it” the friend continued her rant, As she woke up in a non existent body in one of the first novels she’d ever read, but knowing where she was and who’s daughter she was.

To tell the truth, she had reincarnated as the non existent oldest daughter of claude de Alger obelia, the same person who almost drowned his daughter the first he hung around with her, the same person who also killed said daughter in her point of view before she reincarnated, Now she didn’t want the same path, of course she didn’t do the same thing as athanansia did with the rubys, money and gold.

Instead she opted to just hiding away from everyone, it was almost like she was purposely isolating herself, but the maids took it as a joke as she was still a young kid, almost anytime she tired hiding away, one of the maids would find her and then take her back to her room, So she started exploring the entirety of the ruby palace, from up to bottom every bedroom and bathroom.

So of course she soon found the abandoned library, sure it was hard to open the door, but she managed!.

Upon entering said library, it was clear it hadn’t been touched nor used for a very long time, as she took steps her shoes would leave footprints from the dust on the floor, every book she touched had collected dust, While looking around her eyes seemed to wander to a nearly unheard of twinkling sound coming, it sounded sweet almost as if it was luring her in, she searched everywhere to find the source of the sound, which she did!.

It was a old diary frankly she didn’t know it was one till she opened it and read the contents of it, it didnt have a label only twinkling stars surrounding it, of course as a curious 7 year old who can read, she decided to read it.

At first it was boring, the handwriting was messy, as if a child was writing it, it started as writing about what they did throughout the day, it was clear that this diary belonged to someone who had a high noble status.

Soon the soft twinkling noises became cackling noises, it was extremely loud to her ears,but she nonetheless continued, flipping it till she reached a point where the cackling noises sounded so loud that it resembled gun noises, she slowly covered her ears and tried running away from the book.

But she couldn’t, why?, the dust had become fog, just slightly more browner, so with her still covering her ears, coughing sounds erupted from her throat, her eyes becoming watery so she had to close them, she kneeled to the floor continuously coughing as the dust began entering her nose.

Her hands quickly moved from her ears, to her mouth and nose, once everything had settled, and the blonde could finally breathe properly, she slowly opened her eyes, they were met with greenery instead of a dusty library, now this was confusing, as she knew she didn’t walk out of the library.

Because of course she couldn’t, and to her knowledge she didn’t inherit any magical powers, of course it no longer looked like she was in ruby palace, this place was way to extravagant to ruby palace!.

Now she couldn’t go back unless she finds out a way, so she decided to wander around for a bit!.

The blonde haired girl was getting tired, usually she would walk longer, but her legs were giving out, she of course was scared of getting noticed by who ever owns or works here, she’d already worked so hard to not die nor meet any important character, why does she need to die now after being alive for 7 years?.

So she opted to sitting behind a tree hiding her body from everyone, “I’ll just sit here till I gain my strength back!” She thought, she’d lived quietly her entire life, of course this would’ve been easy.

If she wasn’t a noisy person, not even a minute had passed before she started hearing hiccuping noises, it sounded like a boy was crying, whether she wanted to know who was crying or didn’t, it see,ed like her body was punishing her as it started moving by itself to the crying sounds.

There was a boy who was older then her maybe 10?, his appearance matched Claude’s appearance exactly!, but then there was his brother, who looked the same, the girl was standing behind him obviously just starring at him, of course he felt a sudden stare on him, so to his surprise he finds a tiny girl with blue eyes gawking at him.

“What are you staring at?!” He asked slightly embarrassed that someone had caught him crying his eyes out, “Well obviously you your the only person here!” She answered back deciding to sit next to him, “So what where you crying about also what’s your name!” She asked not really caring about what he was crying about, wanting to find out his name only.

“Claude” he mumbled turning his head the other way to whip his tears away, “O-oh” frantically she was quite disappointed, but if this was her hill to die on so be it!, she died once she wouldn’t be scared of facing death again right?, “Well?, aren’t you going to tell me your name” he demanded, “Name..” she answered.

“Then claude, do you want to be my friend?” She extended her hand to his smiling, “W-what do you know who you want to be friends with?” He asked, “yes I do know so do you or do you not?” She asked again, clearly nervous of getting rejected again by the same man who rejected her as a grown adult, being friends with your dad isn’t the best especially when you’ve never personally known him.

“Fine!” He accepted the seven year olds request shaking her hand in confirmation.

“Great” she whispered smiling happily.

“Great..” he said glancing at her hand then eyes.

Of course she found out that by simply it turning night she would return to her original world, the world where the only people who knew of her existence were the maids and lowly knights assigned to the ruby palace, It was good opportunity for the girl cause returning from both worlds affects the timeline greatly, when she’d go to child claude and return at night, It would also become night.

Which meant the maids could leave her alone for days at times, so that’s how the cycle continued, of course every time she returned claude would age up continuously he’d age up a lot in the four years she’d been with him.

In those four years, claude had told her about every aspect of his life, the way his step mother treated him, his brother, family issues, favorite food, Felix, claude slowly realized he’d grown a fond of his friend, he felt like she was a mini version of him, he didn’t notice the way she still looked younger while he looked older, he’d never notice that.

At some point the blonde haired girl knew she needed to stop being around him, it was so that so she doesn’t affect the story line, she’d never want that of course, and so when y/n turned 11, she’d known she’d need to stop, as the storyline was so close to happening, she slowly forced herself to forget she’d ever meet her father as a kid, she knew she needed to stop when he mentioned that his newborn daughter looked like a split image of her.

Now claude would never forget about the friend he made in the garden, how could he?, the way he met her to him was fascinating, he was determined to find her, As the now older man ran a hand threw his hair, he didn’t remember much of you, he remembered how you looked like, he’d know you if he spotted you anywhere, but he just can’t seem to find you anywhere?.

Were you a fairy or an angel?, or were you the ghost of his daughter from another life haunting him as a child.

“Felix!!” The young girl yelled running up to the red haired man, “y/n how are you?” He asked bowing to her, Felix never met you as a child he’d found you behind a tree asleep and took you back when you were eight, ever since he’d been giving you gold to help you escape, as he knew you’d never want to meet your oh so scary dad that you accidentally met when he was a kid.

He just presumed you’d heard rumors about how he killed his own lover afterbirth alongside all his concubines in the palace you’d been at your entire life.

“This time” she breathed heavily as she’d been running, “give me 500 gold please” the blonde begged clasping her hands together mustering the cutest face she could pull off, the red head chuckled softly before handing you 300, “hey! I said 500 not 300”

“Y/n come on what do you need 500 for?”

“Why are you asking please just give it promise you won’t ever see me again” she pleaded with him, “fine don’t let anyone find out though” , he sighed before handing an extra 200.

“Of course I won’t!” The girl replied before running away waving him off with a smile.

“His majesty must never find out..” he mutter returning back to his duties or precisely to Claude’s office.

Y/n kept her promise, she had snuck out in the middle of the night leaving almost everything behind except things she held dearly, and had bought a cabin far away from the capital.

As the years passed by y/n turned 22, it had been a long time sense she’d seen Claude, she’d heard of him of course and her sister athanasia, sense the two had a huge age gap, her younger sister had turned 15 recently, she’d wished she could’ve celebrated with her but she knew if she ever went back there something she’d never want to happen will happen.

Claude had frequent dreams of his childhood friend turning older, claude was forgetting her appearance, it was irritating to him, So the man knew that she wasn’t hiding in the capital she was on the outskirts of it.

He’d heard her say she’d hope to get a cabin on the outskirts of the capital in one of his dreams, Felix knew what was happening to claude wasn’t great he’d tried to stop him multiple times, “are you telling me what I can and can’t do?” Claude asked Felix as the redhead had held his body forbidding him from escaping.

“Your majesty your losing your mind over a nonexistent person” Felix yelled at him, “nonexistent? Felix do you know what the fuck your telling me right now?” The man replied, he cursed him out to no end that night, Felix was getting tired of it, the emperor was going insane over his daughter whom he hadn’t talked nor seen for 22 years, yet now he wanted to talk to her?.

Felix knew where you lived as you made the purchase with his money and he got mail saying he bought a cabin, he threw it out not caring what you did with the money.

Claude was smiling manically the day he knew where you lived, “your highness are you sick?” Felix asked, “No why would you ask that” he replied leaning his head on his hand starring at the paperwork.

Of course, claude knew who you were now, that you were his daughter, that you were the same person who he had met as a desperate kid with no friends.

Claude’s obsession was growing out of proportion, when claude found out where his precious daughter was, he stormed over there an hour later, Felix tried everything possible in his ability to stop him.But he couldn’t.

In those years that you had lived in the cabin your only thought, that was to die, but you couldn’t. You lived in a cabin for no reason, the purpose you couldn’t complete anymore.

While you were asleep, you heard a huge bang at you door, quickly getting up, she opened the door, revealing a tall male with blonde hair and diamond like blue eyes.

Claude starred at his daughter, daggers almost, “I’ve finally found you y/n” he smiled, it was terrifying, how did he find you?, how did he even know who you are, this was absolute hell, the girl tried shutting the door but his grip was stronger then hers, “you can’t run away from now” he said “my daughter” he pushed. The door open and pulled her into a one sided hug.

It was terrifying being held by the same man whom you have been trying to avoid for the past 22 years of your life, he found you like it was nothing, the way he was hugging you was almost bone crushing.

He swiftly knocked you out, knowing the moment he left go of you you’d try to escape.

And he’d never ever let you leave his side ever again, you’ll be forced with the title of the princess whether you like it or not.

Befriending claude de Alger obelia was the worst mistake you’d ever made.

On a side note my request are always open! I don’t bite 🫶

#-azuwritess #manhwa x reader #historical manhwa #wmmap #yandere manhwa x reader #fanfic #manhwa #who made me a princess #claude x reader #wmmap x reader #wmmap athanasia #wmmap fanfic #wmmap claude

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pink-onyx-au · 1 year

Text

If you are reading this, thank you!

[Jump to the Episode Listing]

In order to do a somewhat-daily release of episode pages, a little bit of prep work goes into these strips. I promise this hiatus won’t be several months long! A new episode is already on the workbench. This is just a heads up while I take a brief break. Thank you again! Love you all!

Den notes/asks and such will still be answered at this time! (If anything, I have lots to catch up on!)

For the new and the returning:

Pink Onyx AU is a Steven Universe AU focused on interactions between Steven and Jasper and is intended to be read after you have finished Steven Universe Future, as it contains many many spoilers for the series. If you have watched it already, great! Welcome! The goal is to bring you a Jasper redemption arc that we couldn’t get due to time and cooperate restraints on the Crewniverse. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own these characters or their likenesses except for the single fluffy thembo fusion I created for the story. This is just a fan comic.

Comic is PG-13 for some angsty themes, minor blood, violence, and gem-cussing.

Speculation and theories are encouraged! The comic is designed as close to the show’s logic as I could muster, which means many secrets are staring right at you, provided you know what to look for! Just be kind to one another.

To see some WIP, storyboard previews, doodles, shitposts, and other projects I’m working on, along with a healthy amount of 3am memes, head over to my trash fire blog, Ceephor’s Shit Show. The "pink onyx au" tag will filter everything for you, along with showing you fabulous fan art made by others that I just love to pieces.

#pink onyx au #steven universe au #jasper #steven universe #steven #c423art #ceephorart #fusion #steven universe future #Nyx nap time #pink onyx

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asklilmissrarity · 5 months

Text

Progress Update on Melodi

Hello, everyone!

Happy New Year!

On December 15th 2023, I made the public announcement that Lil Miss Rarity will receive no further comic updates from me, finally confirming a common theory that I had lost the will to continue creating it. Lil Miss Rarity, just to confirm here, is now public domain and I encourage fan-blogs and will proverbially pass the torch to anyone who would like to take up the mantle.

It wasn't an easy decision to make because of how many times I'd promised I would never stop updating it, and I did in fact have future plans for it (I will be making a video on YouTube describing how I'd planned to continue the story, and how I would have ended it if I ever did).

But in its wake came Melodi, a spiritual successor to Lil Miss Rarity, and I've decided that a story-driven video game with ongoing updates would be the smartest decision, at least for the introduction to the series.

And so along came this twiggy elf. (Important note: Her booby size on her sprite is exaggerated, same as her head size. The in-game art for cutscenes will show more proper body proportions.)

Melodi is now just four directional (diagonal movement) sprite animations away from being a complete character sprite, which means creating a proof of concept will be just a matter of time.

As of today, I have completed:

The intro cutscene for the game, leading to the introduction of Melodi and her teacher, Eliah Sterium (Multiple full color images accompany that cutscene)

Seven unique songs entirely composed by myself (Literally learned how to make music a week ago just for this project)

Four directional movement sprites consisting of 6 frames of pixel animation each direction (Including separating each part to make them usable for other characters' sprites)

Four directional idle animations consisting of 6 frames of animation each direction (Again, making paperdolls to use later for other characters)

A discord server for the ongoing production of Melodi RPG where I'll be answering questions, including answering as the characters from the game similar to the LMR ask-blog

27 (just counted) preliminary sketches to flesh out character designs and have reference for myself

Eliah Sterium's design, making the ladies go gaga

Mountains of lore (a lot of which can be found in the Discord's lore channels)

Personalities for the primary cast of deadbeat magic school students

Art for the title screen

The entire storyboard for Episode 1 and Episode 2

The pricing model for the game (Episode 1 will be a free demo, and all remaining episodes will be bundled together in a $10 purchase)

The "Pet Cwow" option on the Quit Game menu and what happens when you pet him (You'll see)

The entire intro in-engine (Screencapped above with Eliah there)

Many new fans/friends who've introduced themselves in the Discord

And, I have received (on December 31st) my very first negative review of the game, which I will cherish. Someone who knew nothing other than "It's a game about an elf who goes psychotic" and saw the title art said that the game was basically doomed to fail because Melodi has large breasts, to which I replied "Imagine being this fucking butthurt over tits existing" which set him off into an obnoxious and insulting rage that ended with "Enjoy nothing but horny virgins playing your game and ignoring the dog water, generic ass story." A quote that I will never, ever, ever forget, and if I someday make a physical release of the game, I promise you, that quote will be on the back of the box.

There's even more than just all this, I've already sunk tons of hours of time and effort into the production of Melodi and I am super excited to continue.

I want to thank everyone for the support of the game so far, and I hope once people know more about the story and characters, the game sees the same kind of fandom that Lil Miss Rarity once had.

Luv you all

~Jay Tonique

#Melodi #Melodi RPG #Sprite Art #Animated #Game Dev #Melodi Ravenian #Eliah Sterium

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kp-alice · 1 year

Note

Okay

So amongst the SVT members, who do you think would be into bondage? (Receiving)

While writing out all these requests, I've realized that I see a lot of overlap in what types of subs Wonwoo/Mingyu and Jeonghan/Joshua would be. And then Seungcheol is this kind of anything-goes-in-a-small-dose kinda guy, lol. I might make a post in the future about what types of subs Svt would be, we'll see ~

(Also, I lowkey highkey feel like my writing is slowly getting worse, sorry if it actually is. After this event, I'm going back to my usual format of things, I promise <3)

Either way, here you go, hope you enjoy!

BONDAGE WITH SUB!SEVENTEEN

Jeonghan loves being tied up with pretty ribbons, but would also revel in more harsh materials like rope. Honestly, he likes to pretend to be all soft and innocent for you, but deep down, all he really wants is for you to fuck him and make it hurt (within consent and reason, of course). And so, the feeling of rope tying his wrists to the headboard, digging into his skin the more he squirms, would be almost high-inducing. Make him feel like a damsel in distress, tied to your bed by his wrists and ankles, completely helpless and waiting for your saving, only to find out you're far, far from his white knight (and pretend like that's not exactly the scenario he asked you for).

Careful, though, because he can also get a bit too carried away sometimes and is then at risk of some nasty rope burns - please watch out for him and treat any of his wounds if he does end up tugging too hard <3 :(

Joshua, much like Jeonghan, would also use silk and satin ribbons the most, sans the added roughness of rope. He loves feeling like a pretty prince for you, wanting you to appreciate the vibrant colors adorning his beautiful skin. With time, I can also see him getting curious about spreader bars, liking the forced lewdness of it - a beautiful mix of faux innocence and teasing playfulness, just the way Joshua loves to carry himself.

The yin to Joshua's yang, Woozi, would adore seeing dark green or blue rope wrapped around his body, forcing him to keep his hands behind his back while you have your way with him. Unlike the previous two, he wouldn't really like being bound to something, since it would make him feel a little too helpless and trapped for his liking.

On the other hand, he'd also slowly come to find how blissful the frustration of restraint can be. There's just something about being forced to lie on his stomach with his arms tightly bound together behind him, unable to even shuffle around a bit to get more comfortable, all while you fuck him and press him even further into the mattress. It would all just add so much frustration to his already stressed-out mind that it would basically cause it to short-circuit and reset him in the best way possible.

Another reluctantly-admitted favorite is when you tie his hands in front of him and make him lie on his back, each leg carefully tied to make it bend at the knee and keep his legs spread for you. It feels so open and intimate to let you bind him like this, he loves it so much.

Now, Minghao loves bondage not only for the aesthetics of it, but also because it helps him relax like nothing else can. There's already something incredibly mesmerizing about colorful rope being elegantly tied across his chest and thighs, but the way you treat him as your own little art project, carefully tying each knot in calming, peaceful silence while all of your attention is on him and him only, it all just makes his head spin and his dick harder than ever.

Don't give in to his desires immediately, though. Just keep working the rope around his back and waist. Make him sit there in silence, too shy to ask for your touch and squirming in his seat more and more with each knot. The silent mind games work him up like no other.

Seungcheol would once again be pretty lowkey even about bondage, usually just resorting to a pair of handcuffs and a whiny attitude to compliment it.

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always appreciated! ♥

#sub!seventeen #sub!svt #seventeen smut #seventeen reactions #seventeen reaction #seventeen headcanons #seventeen headcanon #sub!jeonghan #sub!joshua #sub!woozi #sub!seungcheol #sub!minghao

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foli-vora · 1 year

Text

run to you: chapter four

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: thank you for being patient! shit is hectic in the brain right now, but fuck real life amiright? feels good to write again and to come back to these two. not a whole lot of marcus this chap, or a particularly long one, but it's all about the story building or something like that lmao. i still haven't updated my taglists so i apologise for that. if you've previously requested to be added for this story, please do so again via whatever coz my mind is all over the place and i'll forget to check the previous chapters. enjoy angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: the usual... angst, swearing, reader is a stresshead, golden retriever fbi agent who is bestie material, talk of lies/deception, brief talk of being arrested, flashbacks and the usual bitter saltiness one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The sound of water running fills the empty silence of the bathroom, steam eventually swirling up from the spray and crawling along your ceiling. You pick at the paint dried onto the skin of your fingers as you wait, exhaustion creeping along the edges of your mind with an urge to pull you under.

It’s not as if the work had been hard, in fact, you had relished in the familiar buzz of music and paint strokes. It felt refreshing, despite having a number of works to get started on. So much of your time now consisted of working to pay the bills you only just managed to keep on top of, so there was little opportunity to enjoy your creative side.

No, the stress of the art had been lovely, the whole mental gymnastics and whirlwind of emotions because of him though?

Draining.

You hope Marcus won’t make a habit of waltzing in and screwing up your day. What did he even achieve coming in to get rid of Jacob? What was the purpose of his visit? Surely not to just get you to eat. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive here.

He’s a federal agent—of course there’s a hidden agenda somewhere.

Well you won’t fall for it. Any of it. Not again.

You would remain on your high guard around him until you finished with whatever they needed from you and then all ties would be cut. You would keep communications curt and simple—there’s no need for unnecessary small talk and chit chat. You’re here to work, and that’s it. Hopefully, it will all be over soon and you can really put it all behind you for good.

The car ride had been spent in complete silence. Your eyes didn’t waver from looking out the passenger door window, and Marcus made no effort to break the uncomfortable energy lingering in the vehicle.

You didn’t even look at him when he eventually pulled to a slow stop outside your building, barely waiting for the car to stop completely before you pushed the door open and slammed it harshly behind you.

He didn’t leave until you disappeared into your building.

The anger still lingers, even after a somewhat decent heavy sleep.

He had deceived and tricked you, again. You had briefly trusted his word, believed his empty promise, and for what? It was all bullshit. Again. It’d been a mistake. It’s all a game to him—lies are all he knows. He seemingly lies as easy as he breathes, for it all to come so naturally.

What else is he lying about, giggling with his little agent friends? Is Jacob in on it all? He seemed friendly and decent enough, and happily kept out of your way when you asked him to give you space the day before, but then again, he wouldn’t be the first man to lure you into a sense of comfort as a ruse.

To hell with all of them.

You won’t be laughed at, not again, not this time.

This time, you were on to them. This time, there was no hiding behind a pretty face, fake ID and false backstory. You wouldn’t give them—any of them—the satisfaction of watching you fall again. Marcus, Jacob, the rest of the team—they won’t break you.

—

Agent Wilson is promptly on time as expected, noticeably upbeat and bouncy, standing just outside of your door in a freshly ironed dark suit and navy blue tie, holding out a carry tray of various drinks that you try not to react to.

It’s all fake—the kindness.

It’s a lie.

“Morning, Picasso!” He grins, “I wasn’t too sure what you’re into, so I grabbed a few choices: cappuccino, tea—English Breakfast, I think?, Chai Latte and a chocolate Frappuccino with extra cream. Although, I’ve kinda been eyeing the frappe on my way here, so don’t break my heart.”

You study the selection carefully before letting your eyes roll back up to meet his bright green ones, careful to keep your face blank of any and all emotion.

“I don’t want anything—I’m not thirsty.”

He blinks at your hard tone, clearly taken aback.

You try to keep a hold of the slight twinge of guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach, carefully schooling your expression into something firmer, unbothered.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool, guess that extra cream is mine, then!”

The small slither of guilt grows at the slight look of dejection that passes over his face despite the force of the smile curling his lips, but you don’t dwell on it.

He’s one of them.

You had made sure to be ready for his knock earlier that morning, so you simply step out of your apartment with your bag over your shoulder and lock the door securely behind you, shutting him out from your space and keeping him from prying into your surroundings like he had done the day before.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

“Okay then,” he murmurs, clearing his throat softly and turning to head to the elevator. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.”

Silence follows your sharp response, and Wilson takes it as a clue to stay quiet for the rest of the trip to his car. He disposes of the drinks in a nearby trash can and the guilt doubles.

He’d gone to the effort of grabbing you a beverage, probably left his home early to ensure he could do so… maybe you should’ve just accepted one to keep the peace.

You slide into the car and buckle up, staring at the early morning events unfolding outside the windscreen as he slides in beside you and starts up the car.

It doesn’t move however, and you look to him in question, only to find him already staring expectantly at you.

A small wall of defence builds at his gaze, and you start to wonder if now will be the time he uses his authority over you and reminds you of your lowly position in this case. Maybe he’ll tell you that he knows everything, that you deserved everything you got—

“Are you pissed at me for leaving you with Pike?” He asks, and you can’t help the brief flicker of surprise. Okay, maybe not. “Look, I’m sorry—I thought he would’ve cleared it with you, but if you want, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again. I mean, I don’t have much say, but if you’re that uncomfortable I’m sure I can talk to someone—”

He’d do that? For you? You desperately try to come up with a reason why he would even bother. He’d gain nothing from it, the team wouldn’t either. What’s his play? Where’s the catch here?

Maybe there isn't one.

A part of you refuses to believe that. The part that had been beaten and broken and had its trust torn to fucking shreds. He’s a federal agent, and they think of only themselves and their team. You aren’t a part of the team. You’re an outsider, a criminal. You’re nothing to them.

Maybe he just genuinely wants to help.

Maybe. Maybe.

You sigh softly, and shake your head.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I’m sorry, it’s not you. I guess I just… I’m just not feeling great about this whole thing. I’ll cut back on the bitchiness.”

He shrugs it off, another smile coming easily to his lips.

“Hey, if you’ve got history then it’s understandable. Just talk to me, okay? Let me know what you want. I’m here for you, it’s my job to keep you safe and happy, and if fighting my boss is what I’ve gotta do then so be it.”

You can’t help the pull of your lips at the mere image of it in your mind.

“You’ll fight him for me?”

He scoffs lightly, “Absolutely—I can take him. Just say the word, Dalí. I’ve got your back, clear?”

“Clear,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m just not used to any of this. I uh… I don’t trust people very easily, and I’m having some difficulty adjusting to all of this.”

Understatement. It’s all a massive pain in the ass and exhausting.

“Yeah, I get it,” he replies, smiling comfortingly at you before pulling out onto the road and reaching for his drink, “but just know that I’m on your side here, okay?”

You nod quietly, not wanting to speak any more about it with someone who could be potentially relaying everything you say back to his team. Maybe they will take you down once this case is over, using the soon to be mountain of evidence as proof you’ve returned to less than legal painting activities. They’ll put you in for longer this time.

Shit, this is such a bad idea. You should’ve kept the fucking door shut the day Special Agent Pike came knocking.

You’re pulled out of the dizzying spin of your mind and its thoughts by a voice picking up in the car, breaking through the heavy dread quickly building in your system and pulling you from diving any deeper into the what ifs.

Jacob sings along to the music, completely unbothered by your presence in the car and swaying to the tune. You’re thankful for it, in a way. Thinking for too long on any of it makes you feel sick, so this is a welcome surprise.

And also highly fucking amusing.

“—hey Jude, refrain…”

He cuts off abruptly at your side eye, straw pausing just below his lips.

“What—you don’t like the Beatles?” he questions, almost shocked by the mere idea of it.

“I never said that,” you try to fight the smile, but it pulls at your lips before you can really help it, “I’d just rather hear them sing their song.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes and sipping his drink before licking away the smudge of chocolate building up in the corner of his lips. “You know, when I was little, I wanted to go on American Idol.”

You choke on a laugh before you can stop it. “You did not.”

“I did. Thank god I didn’t—I’m not being remembered as a fucking idiot on YouTube for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t need American Idol, or YouTube for that.”

“Shit. Ouch,” he breathes, making a show of clutching his chest and giving you a playful grin, “okay, I see how it is. Now you can get the full show… NA-NA-NAA, HEY JUDE—”

—

“You’re behind nine weeks of payments. We can’t continue—”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You knew it was bad, you had the mounting bills building at home, but surely this couldn’t be it. They can’t just kick you out. There has to be something. You’d already maxed out your credit cards, you have nothing in the bank. Maybe they could do a payment plan, organise a scholarship or loan or something—

“No, please… I-I’ll work out something, I just—”

“I’m sorry,” the administrator gives you a look of sympathy, “but we can’t continue your education until payment has been sorted. Look, you’re a bright girl, you clearly have talent—maybe you’ll do okay on your own, without classes.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is all I have, I can’t lose this. Please, there must be something I can do?”

“Unfortunately not at this point in time, unless you can come up with this amount within the weeek. I’m sorry, I’ve held this off for as long as I can, but the debt is just mounting. We can’t continue with a promise of payment.”

You’re sure you can feel your heart breaking. You’d found some semblance of normality here… going to classes, doing fun assignments, meeting new people. It was the opportunity you needed, the chance to go further—

And now there’s nothing.

You sink into the chair, fighting the tears that build and clearing your throat to rid it of the uncomfortable feeling growing there.

“I understand,” you mutter, “thank you for your time.”

“Keep your head up, sweetheart. I’ll keep a spot available should you manage to work something out, okay? We’ll get you right back into it.”

There’s no way to work it out. Your job waiting tables paid pennies. You needed something more, something concrete, but with limited experience behind you and the requirements most places wanted nowadays, there was little chance of landing anything else. There’s just nothing you can do, short of robbing a bank.

You’d been expecting it for a little while, the stress continuously mounting with every bill that was sent to your door. You knew you weren’t paying for classes, you knew the debt was growing and growing. You just thought you had more time, more opportunity.

“I appreciate that, but don’t bother—I have nothing. Your waiting lists are huge, someone on there deserves their chance.”

You had yours, and you blew it.

—

Marcus is waiting outside the building.

Of course.

Your heart starts to beat harder in your chest. What is he doing here? He pushes off of the dark SUV he’s leaning against when he catches sight of Jacob’s silver sedan, and waits for you both to get out of the car when Jacob pulls to a slow stop.

“What do you want me to do?” Jacob asks quietly, making a show of reaching for, and struggling, with his briefcase in the backseat to give you a bit of time to answer.

You try not to look at him, doing a final check of your things that you’d previously already triple checked before leaving your apartment and deciding you've probably spent too much time dawdling.

“Can you just get me up there? I want to start my work,” you reply softly, grabbing the strap of your bag and reaching for the door handle, “but there’s not really much we can do if he wants to stay around.”

The breeze bites at your cheeks when you step out of the car, and you catch Marcus smoothing down his tie as you start to walk towards him. You feel your heart thunder with each step, resenting the way he could still stir those little butterflies awake in your stomach.

He’s attractive—that’s all it is. Your body is just simply reacting to it. There’s nothing there anymore. No feelings. Nothing.

“Good morning,” he greets quietly, a strained smile curling his lips, and you briefly decide that you prefer him with a bit of facial hair rather than a clean shave.

Not that it matters.

“Hello,” you return shortly, stopping just a few paces away and waiting for Jacob to catch up.

“I’m not staying,” he mutters after a few moments of further silence, his gaze darting past your shoulder to where his fellow agent walks around his car to reach the path. “There’s been a few developments overnight, so I’ve just come to check in with Wilson and then I’ll be going to the office. I won’t be coming back.”

Your reply is immediate and blunt.

“Good.”

It’s brief, but you see the flicker of hurt that passes through his eyes.

He drops his gaze from yours, desperate to look anywhere that wasn’t you, and soon the scuffle of shoes behind you brings his attention from you completely. It’s almost fascinating how instinctively his posture changes, hardening into something of an authority figure, hiding the swirl of emotions swimming in his eyes behind high walls.

You wonder if Jacob saw it. Does he see the difference between man and agent? Does he catch the certain mannerisms that change? Surely you can’t be the only one who sees it.

“Morning, sir. We’ll talk out here,” Jacob says firmly, coming to stand beside you and holding out a small set of keys, “she has a lot of work to do this morning and she wants to start immediately.”

Marcus blinks, his gaze darting between the two of you almost questioningly before he gives a slow nod, “Of course, that’s fine. I’ll let you get to it.”

You take the keys without another word and stride past Marcus, quickly letting yourself into the building and letting the door shut loudly behind you, dulling them to your senses and giving you a chance to breathe again.

Unrelenting heat washes under your skin, blood rushes through your ears until you can hear the heavy beat of your heart echo in the canals. You take a moment to gather yourself in the dark, quiet hallway, rubbing a hand along where your heart hammers against your chest.

When will it all stop? Would you ever be able to look at him and not feel an immediate burning sense of rage? Of bitterness? Would your mind ever forget the way he would say ‘I love you’? Would your body ever forget how he would touch you, kiss you? Would your heart ever just let it all go?

It would have to. Surely, it would have to.

Time was all you needed.

Once finished with this case, you would be once again free to move on—if you don’t end up arrested—, and forget there ever was an Alex. A Marcus. Whatever his name is. Time would take it all away. It would happen one day, you just had to be patient and wait.

Taglist 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

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donnyclaws · 9 months

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PROMO 🌋🏔🌡🌈🏁

Sick of me advertising yet 🫀

I'm Donny/Caelan, an nz based artist. I make zines, I'm a horror head, creature spec bio fan and future alt drag monster < transgender about all those things. I do entirely too much, I also animate and am trying to get my stories out of my brain via sporadic comics and weird text projects. Currently enwrapped with full time study, a part time job and an assortment of neurotic ailments. A lot of my art centers on my own experiences with trauma, dehumanization and transness, I'd vastly prefer people be at least 16 to follow 💥🫶 Main support venues are Patreon, itch.io (For zines) & kofi

All goes towards trying to maintain where I am at so I can make cool stuff and have fun, and eat good. Thank you 4 reading and for the support over the years, I don't think I'd be here without it and I hope you'll stick around for the stuff I make when I have spare time again 💞 I promise it will only get more specific and self indulgent and draggy.

#💤💤💤

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emojellyace08 · 10 months

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Lookism Men x Artist! Reader 🖤🥀🎨Part 2

Warnings: None Genre: fluff ☁️ Reader is gender neutral (and in an established relationship with the character of choice :)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

Hudson Ahn (Ahn Hyung-Seong)

He doesn't really mind about your hobby as long if it's nothing too weird or bothersome. What matters is that you're having fun and you're comfortable with it.

Hudson will also be curious on how you managed to draw things. I think he'll kind of get close to you when he sees you drawing body anatomy and sketches of fighting poses. He really thinks it's cool. He also thinks it's very creative when you draw Shonen manga like Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, etc. (I headcannon that Hudson watches anime secretly since he thinks that the fighting scenes are so cool). But no matter what art style you're using, Hudson thinks that you're really talented especially when you're passionate about it.

He also doesn't mind it if you asked him for a picture so you can use him as a reference photo. Sure, he has other things to do like training with Taesoo but he guessed that a little break is not really a bad idea. He'll be looking forward for the results while he's away training and not seeing you for who knows how long. Taesoo will ask what he did on his breaks and he'll simply reply "I just spend time with Y/N. She/he just asked me to be her/his model for her/his sketch before I go. It's fine I guess".

And after a really long time of not meeting each other because of his missions and personal problems, he'll visit you again after beating some fucker's ass. He'll ask about your progress and if you're already finished it will make him surprised (though it's not obvious). He knows that it takes a lot of time and patience to make a good artwork just like training for combat, but he guessed that you're just so responsible at managing your time or you're just really good at it. After you gave him the sketch for him to take a good look at it, he'll be surprised on how you did a good job and he'll compliment it "It looks pretty". "Tha-Thank you. I wonder if you would want me to take pictures of you, if you don't mind". "Sure I've got nothing to do anyways". And if he's not satisfied, he'll give constructive criticism on it (though he won't ask for you to draw a new portrait of him since he doesn't like it when you get burned out). He'll also ask you to keep it since he can't promise that he can preserve it's beauty because of his work.

Hudson is your number one fan even though it's not really obvious at times. You're his precious cinnamon roll that he'll protect whoever tries to mess with you :).

Eli Jang (Jang Hyun)

Also your number one biggest fan (he still prioritizes a nice and helpful partner, but also having a talented someone can make his heart explode).

He also finds your own artsyle amazing whether you draw anime/cartoonish, realism/semi-realism, landscape, abstract or gory/horror (though don't show your gory art to Yenna she may cry her eyes out lmao). I headcannon that Eli himself likes drawing. When he's younger and when he was struggling with his personal issues, he would either hum songs that his mother used to sing to him or he would draw a picture of what a happy family looks like since he never got to experienced to be raised in a loving and accepting place, though he never finds it as his future career. But drawing makes him calm and express his negative emotions on a simple paper, so having a partner who also shares the same hobby as him makes you and Eli's bond a bit stronger. He also really admires how you took a simple activity into the next level like drawing everyday things or events in your style and interpretation.

He also doesn't mind it when you asked him for a picture for you to use it as a reference photo. Though expect for him to snap a photo with him holding his baby with that sweetest smile ever (he'll only do it though when you're super close with him). And after giving him your work he'll put it on a frame that hangs up on their home along with other pictures of the Hostel Members and yourself since he just found you very special, especially when you give him something that you made by yourself (he's very sentimental). "You're hanging it up on the wall?" you asked as he smiles while looking at your artwork of him holding Yenna. "Of course. Your works are beautiful and it means so much to me. My family is the most important thing in my life. You, Yenna and the others are like precious gems that needs to be protected and be taken care of. So I'll do my best to protect you even if it means in hurting others so all of you will be safe" "Damn, you actually sound like my parent/s". you replied back as his eyes widened at your reaction as Eli chuckled at your response. "I'm Hostel's Big Daddy after all". "And that's why I love you".

Eli also appreciates it when you babysit Yenna and teaching her how to color! Since Eli's really busy and tired balancing his high school life and fighting the other crews who tries to mess with his family, sometimes he can get a bit lazy of taking care of the little girl (But I don't think that he's a careless father he still spends his extra time with Yenna). But taking turns with him of taking care of the girl can be a relief of him, (though he doesn't assign you for watching out his child since he understands that you need to study too and have your personal space but he'll trust you more if you take care of her). He might even join drawing with the both of you! It can be a special bond and activity that you, Eli and Yenna will do every time you're both free and in the mood to take a break (the others will join too but it can be a mess yet still very fun!). "Yenna you drew a snowman! It looks so cute!" "BA BA Y/N!".

Eli really value you as a really good and supportive partner, so supporting you on your hobby is no big deal either.

Warren Chae (Chae Won Seok)

Fanboy #3. Seriously, he thinks that your talent/hobby is so cool!

Warren finds it fascinating how you draw. He also likes the concentrated face that you make when you're too serious of sketching your reference and not getting it right. "Y/N (why do you look so annoyed?)" he will ask curiously and peek through your sketchbook as you hide it pressing the paper on your chest. "It's nothing" "I noticed that the nose looks weird (like a penis)". "WARREN!"

Just like Zack, he'll feel so special when you asked him for a picture as a reference photo. He'll be so awkward about it lmao (he secretly wants you to draw him anyways soooo....). He'll be posing like an idiot while you scold him for doing a bad job as your personal model. "C'mon Warren act natural." "Like this?" then he'll put his hand on the back of his head with a pouty look making you sigh (though he doesn't like you getting pissed off by him so he'll try his best to be obedient but he just can't take things seriously sometimes lol).

And he'll be so hyped and excited to see your progress! He'll ask about your work if its finished almost every time, "Y/N (How's) the sketch? Is it done?" "No Warren, I haven't finished it yet I just need to add some details." "Okie (I'll wait for it!)" And if you are done and you gave it to him, his eyes will be that emoji ✨🥺✨because he's so amazed that you did a very good job with it! "WOAH Y/N YOU REALLY SLAYED THIS!" "Ye-Yeah thanks".

He will also flex you on Sally, Eli, Derek, Max, Heather heck even Olly. "Y/N so good at drawing (she/he's my everything)". "Yeah, that's why you're such a simp for her/him." "HEY! (BE QUIET!)".

If Warren is one of the approved simps, he'll be also your fan. Just seeing you happy and progressing your talents/skills and also as a good person really warms his heart >3 (keep up the good work!).

Johan Seong (Seong Yohan)

Okay he looks so angsty in this picture though (I just wanna see him happy for once).

If you're childhood friends with him, he'll be in shock and awe on how you managed to draw cute things. "WoW Y/N how are you so good at these stuff?" "Ha... Well, you just need some practice and patience in anything that you do you know. I'm not really good at first but I managed to pass the beginner level I guess". He will also look up to you as a role model especially if he's crushing on you. "I wanna be cool like Y/N too so I'll practice boxing just like Zack is doing right now!" . But if you met him after the God Dog arc he'll be more quiet and reserved. I can imagine the scenario, you and Johan with his dogs will be on the same park while he stares at you sketching something. He will be blushing and he will look away when you noticed him watching you doing your own thing (he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable). "Sorry are you alright sir?" "Ye-Yeah I'll go no-" "No it's alright really! There's no other seats in here and I noticed you watching me draw but it's okay." "You sure?" "Yeah. Your name?" and the rest is history.

Johan also doesn't mind it if you asked for a photo of him as a reference. Though I headcannon that he'll be mildly uncomfortable about it since he secretly feels insecure about himself. "You want a photo of me?" "Yes!" "What for?" he will ask bluntly but deep down he'll be screaming inside while his cheeks are rosy pink. His crush asking his photo? His day couldn't get any better. "Well I was out of ideas for my drawings and I thought that you'll be a perfect reference" you asked as he looks at you overthinking. What if you're secretly part of the Workers and you've been a spy all along so that you can share his information to Yoojin and destroy him. "Just promise me one thing." "Sure!" he leans closer to you making close contact making you blush. "You won't leak my photo everywhere, got it?" "Su-Sure. I promise".

He secretly likes it more when you draw him pictures of animals like dogs, especially Eden! (He's just like Vasco fr). "You drew this?" Johan asked checking out your work as you smiled back at him. "Yep! I think your dog is cute so I decided to draw her!" you replied cheerfully as he gave you a sly smirk, you look so cute when you give a happy expression to him it makes his day better. "Keep up the good work" Johan said while ruffling your hair.

Having a someone who is kind, warm hearted and also talented is a win for Johan. He can't help but to adore you!

#lookism x reader #lookism x y/n #lookism x you #lookism manhwa #lookism #lookism fic #johan seong x reader #eli jang x reader #warren chae x reader #hudson ahn x reader

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astrachigo · 1 month

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The Royals' Blood - Current Status

I really, really hate myself for doing this yet again, but I just can't lie anymore. I'd like to address something.

There's a possibility that I might put this fic on hold. No, not even a possibility, I AM putting it on hold. I know, I know that there have been huge gaps between chapters, and I am sorry, but lately, I've been feeling more detached to this work.

All of the requests are awesome and unique, I can't wait to write all of them, but at the same time I just can't. I am pushing myself past my limit to make some sort of a chapter but at the end of the day, I don't like it, not at all.

It's not that I hate this work, no, I really like this AU of mine and I wish to continue it, for you guys to see the end of the story and what I have planned for it, but when I don't feel connected to it? It's difficult.

I tried telling myself otherwise and that I shouldn't put TRB on yet ANOTHER hiatus, because I feel so bad for all of my readers who really enjoy this work. Whenever I receive art I really feel like I am going to cry, because I seriously feel like I don't deserve such a kind audience, really. Why are you so nice to me, yet I can't do something as simple as writing a one-shot?

I tried writing the new chapter, it's not finished and I have no clue when it will be finished. When I write I just feel like it's not enough, I don't know why, with every other fic it's perfectly fine, but when it comes to TRB, I am just draining every last bit of energy out of myself.

Will I abandon this fic? No, I won't and would never even think of it. But at the same time, I do need a break from this work. I used to publish a lot chapters weekly before, I have no idea what happened to me now, I have no idea why I can't publish them like I have before.

What started as a simple, easy project turned into something like work to me. I feel obligated to write because I don't want to upset anyone, but by doing so, I only hurt myself more. It's rough.

I will come back to this work, I will finish it and show you the end of N and Uzi's tale, that's a promise.

Thank you for your understanding, this decision wasn't easy for me and I feel extremely guilty that I have to make this post, because I know that I am probably just making up excuses at this point. I love and cherish every single one of you, your fanart, support and love. Don't worry, I'll be coming back to The Royals' Blood, after all, can I really leave my cuties alone? Without a proper end?

I'll maybe shorten the fic a bit when I come back, that is: I'll be writing the rest of the request before getting to the lore and the end, but that's already a decision that is only up to my future self.

In the meantime, I'll be working on my other work. I won't be going on a hiatus, the work that is going on one is TRB only.

I am deeply sorry for putting it on hold, thank you for reading and have a good rest of the day.

-With love, Astrachigo

#the royals' blood #fanfiction #updates #update #important update

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 months

Text

Sugar Mama Chapter 5

Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him. bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

John Walker of Walker Star Construction was arrested this morning at his Hell’s Kitchen apartment for sexual assault and inflicting bodily harm against Wall Street heiress Y/N Y/L/N. Allegedly during a business meeting Walker made Y/L/N a drink, slipping a roofie drug into it called GHB. He then allegedly assaulted her and tried to get her to sign a business contract they were discussing about her becoming an investor. He has pleaded not guilty and will be held in the county jail until the bond hearing.

***

The next few months were rough on Y/N. The hearing and the trial took an emotional toll, and the bright, lighthearted, charismatic woman Bucky had been falling in love with was hidden under pain, anger and anxiety. She didn’t want to leave the apartment, go out to the parties or events she was invited to, or interact with anyone other than Bucky. Her father had visited her a few times, not questioning Bucky as the new “boyfriend,” trying to offer support as best as he could.

It wasn’t until John Walker had been sentenced that she finally seemed to wake up from the funk she was in. The sentencing wasn’t enough, in Bucky’s opinion, but the law only gave him 2 years in jail and a fine. A protective order was also in place. This, including the therapist she had been visiting, helped her come back into herself a bit more. Although now she texted Bucky often about her whereabouts, who she was with, and when he could expect her to get home as a precaution, and it made her feel better that someone knew what was going on with her.

Steve’s art gallery showing was coming up and she didn’t want to miss it but was feeling a lot of anxiety over being around people again.

“You won’t be alone, Y/N, I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll go to the bathroom with you if you need it,” Bucky tried to joke about it to lighten her mood.

“I know you’ll be with me, Buck. I just…” Y/N sighed loudly. “I’m going. I will be there to support Steve, be friendly, make polite conversation, then we’ll leave. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky agreed, giving her arms a squeeze.

On the night of the gallery show Y/N was stressed but hid it behind her signature smirk she wore when out at events. Bucky could tell by the tightness of her eyes that she was wary, watching people and each verbal interaction making her feel tense, but she soldiered on. Steve greeted everyone and introduced his collection to a round of applause. He thanked Y/N for her support and investment into his art and she promised him more shows in the future. The pieces were beautiful, a collage of portraits of people with Brooklyn sights embedded in their silhouettes, the underlying cobalt blue paint a running theme throughout the works.

As Bucky walked along looking at them, beaming with pride for his best friend, he came across a few pieces that were flecked with gold. They were portraits of people he knew and were close to Steve: Peggy, Steve’s mother, Bucky’s mother, Bucky and Y/N. He stared at the portrait of his mother, feeling emotional over just how well Steve was able to capture what she looked like.

“You have her eyes. And her mouth,” Y/N commented as she gazed up at it.

“Hm,” Bucky agreed. He then moved over to the portrait of Y/N. Steve had done a phenomenal job at recreating her likeness. Her portrait had a little more gold in it than the others.

“Mine looks a little too ostentatious,” Y/N said, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“I love the gold, but it makes me look…”

“Rich? Because you are,” he laughed.

“Yes but that’s not all I am,” she retorted. “Gold is extravagance, wealth, gaudy.”

“Sure, but it’s also beautiful, enduring, valuable even in its malleability. It doesn’t tarnish. It’s bold. It’s everything that everyone sees in you. What I see in you,” he mumbled into her ear, “Mama.”

Y/N hummed back at him, her eyes meeting him with a mischievous sparkle. “You’ve been very flirty lately, baby. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, but before he could answer Steve walked up to them. “Hey you two! I hope you like these. It was pretty hard to really get it right with all of you.”

“They’re beautiful, Steve,” Y/N reassured him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Your mothers are exquisite,” she added, looking at the portraits next to hers. “And Peggy is a vision,” she complimented her portrait. “Where is she, by the way?”

“She got caught up talking to the mayor again, trying to talk to him about more resources and funding and what not,” Steve sighed, shaking his head but smiling at his girlfriend’s constant networking.

“Ah, well let me go save him,” Y/N joked, giving them both a wink. “Steve, I’d like to buy some of these from you. Talk to me later, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Steve looked at her excitedly. She gave him a wide smile then walked away.

“Buck,” Steve pulled his friend in for a hug, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you doing this sugar baby thing.”

“Yeah, sure, cuz it’s helping you, too,” Bucky teased him.

“Yes, that’s a big part of it. But also because she’s awesome,” Steve congratulated him. “Seriously, Y/N is great. I’m sorry I doubted her. Did she like the gold?” he gestured towards her painting.

“She wasn’t sure about it at first, but she’s okay now,” he said. “I think it’s amazing, Steve. All of it. I’m really proud of you,” Bucky clapped him on his shoulder.

“Thanks punk,” Steve said shyly. “It’s weird talking to all these big name people. Does it ever get any easier?”

“No,” Bucky laughed. “I’m still working on it.”

Later that night after Y/N had bought all the portraits of the people they knew and they arrived home, they changed and relaxed on the couch with a bottle of wine between them.

“You did it!” Bucky cheered as Y/N sipped her wine.

She giggled as she set her glass down. “Yes, I did it. And it wasn’t too bad,” Y/N conceded as she angled her body to face him. “And I got some more amazing artwork to add to my collection,” she smiled at the paintings piled in the corner.

“Where are you going to put them?” Bucky asked.

“Well, this is as much your home as it is mine, Buck, we can figure it out in the morning,” she said as she looked out the window, admiring the glittering skyline.

Bucky smiled at that. It still felt like hers, but he felt good knowing she wanted him to feel like they shared it. He recalled the conversation they were having earlier before they got cut off by Steve.

“Y/N,” he started. She turned her attention back to him. “Earlier you asked me if there was something I wanted to tell you?”

“Oh, yes, about you being so flirty lately,” she teased him.

“Yeah,” he huffed out a laugh. “Um, I’m not sure how to uh…”

Y/N’s face contorted into something like concern. She scooted herself closer to him on the couch, her hand reaching for one of his. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about how in the beginning I asked you about whether this would be a um, sexual relationship,” he said, keeping his eyes down.

“I remember,” Y/N said patiently.

“Well I, uh…during these last few months I’ve been starting to have these thoughts, and feelings, about maybe wanting to go ahead and um, do that,” he stuttered. “I just didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you when the whole thing happened with…” Y/N shifted at the mention of Walker. “But, I’ve…” he finally looked up at her. She had a small smirk on her face, her attention fully on him. “I want…”

Y/N’s smile widened. “What do you want, baby?” She moved closer to him so her face was an inch away from his face.

Bucky could feel his face shift to something like pure want, his eyes flickering to her lips, his mouth hanging open. “I want…you.”

“Me?” she whispered, her hand moving from his hand to his arm, leaving a tingling sensation as her nails slowly tickled their way up to his neck then his jaw, giving his beard a light scratch and her thumb ghosting across his lower lip. Bucky shivered at her touch, nodding his head heavily as he shut his eyes.

“Please, Mama,” he whimpered.

Y/N surged forward and kissed him. Bucky felt like he was imploding as her lips met his, soft but firm against him, her hand cupping his jaw and her head angling to the side as she deepened the kiss. Bucky melted into her, his hands reaching behind her neck to keep her against him, fingers entangling in her hair. Y/N’s breathing became heavier as she shifted again to straddle his lap, her thick thighs and her core enveloping him. Bucky moaned as she sat on him, his hands slipping from her neck down to her hips. As his fingers dug into the plushy skin of her hips she let out a whimper of her own, making him intake a sharp breath. He wanted to die to that sound.

Y/N opened her mouth, her tongue slipping out and brushing against his lower lip. Bucky immediately opened his mouth, his tongue meeting hers as they tasted each other. She softly sucked on his tongue, making his hips buck up into her. She huffed a laugh against his lips.

“How do you want me, baby?” Y/N asked as she ground down on his lap, making his hips tremble.

“God, just like this, Mama,” Bucky grunted, his hands guiding her to keep grinding on him.

Y/N tugged her shirt off, revealing her breasts to him. His hands rushed to her chest,

massaging her large breasts and then dipping his head to start kissing and licking them. Her hands latched onto his hair as he worshiped her skin. She then pulled at his shirt, helping him rid himself of it and throwing it across the room. Her hands raked down his shoulders to his pecs then his abs, stopping at the top of his pants. “Off,” she huffed. Bucky quickly shifted himself so she could drag down his pants and his underwear, freeing his cock from the confining fabric. He kicked off the bottoms as she shimmied out the rest of her clothes then sat back on top of him, her naked pussy slotting over his cock, grinding on him and making him feel dizzy with arousal.

“So pretty, baby,” Y/N praised him, her hand snaking down to her pussy and flicking and rubbing her clit as she ground down on him. “Such a pretty dick. You gonna fill me up?” Bucky nodded his head deliriously, his hands kneading her thighs and trying to guide her hips so he could try to angle himself into her. “Well go on, baby, give it to me. Give me my dick.”

“Fuck yes! Yours, all yours,” Bucky threw his head back as he could feel her pussy start leaking on him. He took his cock and positioned himself upwards towards her hips. Y/N helped him by swiveling until the tip caught on her entrance then slowly sunk down. They both groaned as she enveloped him. Y/N gasped when he bottomed out, the stretch and the depth making her squirm on top of him. She took a moment to adjust then repositioned her legs so she could lift herself up on her feet then sink back down. As she gave that first roll of her hips Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head, a silent “O” on his lips. Y/N rolled her hips then started bobbing herself up and down on him.

“You feel so good, baby…fuck you’re so deep,” Y/N moaned. Her hands used his shoulders to grip onto something as she kept going up and down, occasionally and randomly sitting and rolling her hips against him. Bucky felt like his veins were on fire, the pleasure steadily building. “Ooh, Bucky…”

Hearing his name coming from her mouth that way unleashed something inside him. He suddenly twisted so Y/N was on her back on the couch. She gasped in surprise as his arm hooked under her hips and held her up as he reentered her. He grunted as he pistoned into her, setting a grueling pace, sweat forming on his brow as he fucked her.

“Say I’m yours,” Bucky commanded in a raspy whisper.

“You’re mine, baby,” Y/N answered him, her eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “All mine.”

“That’s right,” he almost choked as he felt her walls start to flutter around him. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Bucky, all yours…your Mama,” Y/N moaned, her back arching as he hit a new spot inside of her. “Baby please…”

“Mine,” he whimpered again. He used his free hand to reach between them and start flicking at her clit. Y/N’s voice cracked as she yelped. “Mine…my sweet Mama. So good to me,” the pitch of his voice rising quickly, then just as quickly dropping, “Mama.”

Y/N whimpered as she came, her fingers digging into his biceps as her legs tightened around his back, her head wrenching back as she saw white. Bucky followed right behind her, a loud groan falling from his lips as he kept thrusting into her and filled her up like she wanted. He kept flicking her clit as she flinched through the aftershocks of her climax until she pushed his hand away.

“No more, baby, I can’t…” she whined, her hands limply falling beside her as he stayed inside her and gently laid himself on top of her.

“Oh my god,” Bucky shuddered as his body relaxed. He laid himself on top of her, his head nuzzling her chest and giving her breasts random kisses, his softening cock slipping out of her as they both tried to breathe normally. Y/N ran her hands through his hair, absentmindedly humming a tune as she relaxed. “And you can sing? God, Mama, what are you doing to me?” Bucky huffed a laugh as he looked up at her.

Y/N giggled. “I don’t know how good of a singer I am but I can hold a tune,” she booped his nose with her finger, making his smile widen. She gave him a smirk. “You were so good, baby. So good at making me feel good. My best baby…”

Bucky could feel himself beaming at her praise. He snuggled closer to her and hummed, making her laugh. “Mama…my Y/N.” She kissed the top of his head and he started humming the same tune she had been before. She joined him a moment later as she ran her fingers through his hair, softly singing along.

@vicmc624 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @jtink27 @jenniferpendragon @redbloodedgurl

**just one more chapter after this!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarmama!reader #sugarbaby #sugar mama #chapter 5 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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leventart-den · 8 months

Note

I love seeing Sanji and Zoro trying to recover from a bad fight together

Just…. Both of them in pain, maybe some blood??? That’s good shit right there

Just them being quiet trying to patch the other up, because Chopper already has enough on his.. hooves? And they don’t want to be a burden

You don’t even have to draw this, I just want your opinion on this???? It is VERY important I swear

Dearest Anony!

I swear I'll draw this, I really like the idea! But since this is VERY important, I cannot remain silent and leave you for days without an answer.

Plus, damn, I love this kind of stuff, I could talk about it for hours (if I didn't have to use an online translator because my written English is non-existent).

AN (Me from the future while I was writing what is below): I tried to be short but I was carried away. Thanks for the inspiration, by the way. I'm sorry for all the blood. But I hope that you like it overall and that my answer will brighten up your time at least a little!

AN2 (even further in the future when I finished writing): When I have time I'll rewrite this into a fanfic, if you don't mind, dear Anony.

P.S. to everyone who wrote prompts for art - I will draw each of them, I promise! Thank you very much, they are wonderful! One Piece Art prompts are open for an unlimited time.

***

What I picture in my head when I read your prompt:

It’s time after a heavy battle, they are on the ship, everyone is tired, it’s the afternoon, calm and very quiet. Sanji and Zoro seem to be fine at first glance, and Chopper is so tired that he doesn't have the strength to insist on checking their condition, so he lets them go, immediately falling asleep at the table. It's so hot on the deck, almost suffocating without the wind, but Sanji and Zoro go downstairs to where provisions are stored, barrels of alcohol and where it's cool.

Sanji limps to his usual place, to a box against the wall on which he sits down heavily, leaning against the wooden surface and exhaling a cloud of smoke from the smoldering cigarette now clutched in his fingers. It's stained with blood.

Zoro glances at him briefly and silently heads to the far corner, pulling out a box of first aid from behind the drawers. It's a familiar routine by this point. They are both strong and both don't want to be a burden to Chopper when it can be avoided. They're both stupid like this. So of course at some point in their journey they came to this silent agreement mending each other's wounds and here they are. Again.

Zoro places the box on a nearby drawer and sits down opposite Sanji. The cook takes another drag and finally puts out the cigarette on the wall, throwing the cigarette butt into the iron tin can nearby, which he placed for such purposes. He grunts, finally opening the box and taking out everything he needs while Zoro takes off his shirt.

There is no tightness or awkwardness between them about such things. Not anymore.

Sanji begins by treating the nasty gash on his forehead. It turned out to be difficult to wipe off all the blood; head wounds usually bleed a lot. Although, with his experience up to this point, he gets the job done quite quickly. Next come the wounds on the arms and torso. There are several cuts and spreading bruises. Zoro has a couple of broken ribs. He drinks a few drinks from the bottle while Sanji stitches up a particularly deep cut near his collarbone and tightens bandages around his chest and torso.

They don't talk during the process, they are too tired even for their usual banter and jokes towards each other. They would probably rather go to bed now, but the risk of upsetting and angering Chopper later is too great. So they will finish what they started, despite the fact that Zoro is half asleep and Sanji's movements are getting slower.

The air becomes heavy with blood and now the smell of tobacco is added to it. Sanji lights another cigarette and Zoro opens his eyes watching him. The cook's hands are shaking, he notes. He runs his eyes over his entire form, noting his injuries. He doesn't see much but Curly looks pale. His gaze falls down. There is a pool of blood on the floor under his feet. Zoro swears soundlessly. Looks like the shitty cook has got his legs messed up.

Zoro gives him a very meaningful look and Sanji sighs. He bites the cigarette between his teeth and fumbles with the waistband of his trousers, but his fingers are too weak right now.

Zoro watches him for a few seconds and clenches his teeth because of the pain in his ribs, but still gets up and leans towards the cook, pushing his hands away and helping with the clothes. Sanji lifts himself off the box as far as he can, allowing him to pull his trousers down, and then leans heavily against the wall again. His cigarette is smoldering, he is too sleepy to even smoke.

Zoro, meanwhile, examines his legs. There are several deep cuts and his left ankle is swollen and his knees are bruised. Zoro thinks that he shouldn't be surprised, after all, the shitty cook's legs are his weapons, the main blows fall on them, but still. If some of the cuts had been any higher they could have cut the artery and then the cook would have been dead. Zoro finds himself observing all the old scars that cover his skin. He shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts; now is not the time for them.

At this moment, the pale bloodstained hand falls down and the half-smoked cigarette slips out of limped fingers onto the floor. Zoro's gaze shoots up, he feels pressure in his chest for a second and it's not his broken ribs.

But Sanji's breathing is calm and measured. The cook just fell asleep, it seems.

The swordsman releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Okay.

This is okay.

Everything is fine.

He picks up the cigarette from the floor, puts it out and throws it into the jar with the others. Zoro winces at the movement. His damn ribs hurt with the adrenaline gone, but he'll take care of this stupid cook anyway.

He gets rid of the blood around the wounds and stitches them up, trying to keep his hands as stable as possible. It turns out to be more difficult than it seemed, but he tries. He bandages Sanji's legs after and takes off his shoes with socks, checking his ankles and feet.

It looks like nothing was broken, probably just a sprain, so for now Zoro will do what he can and tomorrow Sanji will turn to Chopper himself if necessary.

After a few minutes and tending to a few other cuts and bruises here and there, Zoro looked over his work and decided he was done. The cook didn’t even flinch during all this time and it looked worrying if it weren’t for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest from breathing. He really lost a lot of blood. Zoro decided not to even try to wake him.

Grunting, he bent down, pulling his pants up to his knees and then moved the cook's motionless body closer to himself, leaning back a little so that he would lean against him and Zoro could pull his pants all the way up. He carefully returned Sanji to his seat and sighed wearily as he buttoned up his pants. Zoro felt exhausted by this point. He wasn't sure he could make it upstairs to the cabins with Sanji as dead weight.

So after a few seconds of hesitation, Zoro went to the corner where they kept all sorts of extra things and fished out a heavy animal skin with thick fur and a couple of blankets. He placed it on the floor next to Sanji and carefully moved him onto the makeshift bed, throwing a blanket over him. He watched as Sanji reflexively curled up on himself, burying his face in the soft fur. The cook always sleeps like this, as if he is trying to hide. It never sits right with Zoro. It looks wrong.

One day he will find out why. But now Zoro settles down next to Sanji, wrapping his arm around him on top of the blanket and holding him close to himself. He feels the other man's shoulders relax and his breath a little too hot on his collarbone. His nose is cold against Zoro's skin. Zoro suddenly feels like he won't be able to sleep, but he buries his face in the cook's hair, which smells of cherry tobacco, sea and spices, and listens to his heartbeat against his skin.

He falls asleep within seconds.

#sanji #zoro #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #art prompt turned into writing prompt #I'll still draw this I swear #blood and injury #this is my type of fluff and domesticity #Zoro cursed in his head trying to get rid of the blood on Sanji's hairy legs #next time Sanji finds a razor in the first aid box #Leventart answers

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clock-onyx · 3 months

Text

A yearly trip

"...Jomei? You called me here?"

"Odin! Come in come in!"

"What did.. what did you want to discuss with me?"

"Oh it's nothin' s-serious! Y'know, it's been a while since you've come to live with us. Around erhhh... a year, y-yeah?"

"A year, yes."

"Right! Jiro has taken quite a liking to you and we've been t-thinkinnnn' that maybe you'd like to join us for our yearly visit to L-Lourielle? It's in a month, and we've rescheduled your work so someone will take over your duties on the days we're away."

"What? Wait wait wait- Are... Are you serious?"

"Of course I-I am! Whattt, you think I'd be l-lying to you?"

"N-No I just- Wow."

"Take time to process it, Odin! M-Maybe we'll even get to finally find that Chester of yours, hmm?"

"Yeah.. yeah! I'm- I'm sure we will. Thank you I'm just.. so surprised! Me? Out of EVERYONE here?"

"Mmmmhm! As I said, Jiro has t-taken quite a liking to you!"

"Right... thank you again, Jomei. Thank so so much-"

"Ah no need to thank me! ..Now now, you can go ask Jiro more questions about this, they're the first in charge with the trip, afterall! I got to g-get ready to see someone so you're free to do anything you'd like for this evening."

"Alright, alright. Good evening to you then!"

"You too, Odin!"

RAGHHH RAHHH I WORKED 12 HOURS ON THIS??? HELPPP LMFAOOOO

This is definetly one of my proudest works, i wanted to be extra detailed with this so i kinda went silly with this, wonder if anyone will catch some of the details as theyre important for the lore of the world and the characters themselves! I know this may not be to everyones tastes but im happy with it <|:3

And as I PROMISED! Jomei in lore art will be wearing those outfit suggestions you guys gave me, so I added one here!!!

I know the dialouges kinda clanky and weirdly worded but as long as it can clearly tell something about what theyre doing im happy with it! Oh and as a note, yes Jomei stutters from time to time, I imagine its pretty difficult to speak when you got a marionette mouth for well... a mouth LMFAO

This is much more in the future than the other drawings i did before, Odin's apperances tends to change a lot through the story as you can see, idk feels more natrual than him having the same iconic outfit forever, as the outfits important aswell! If someone catched who it originally belonged to of course winks

I heart lore art you guys sm YAYY JUMPS WITH JOY

#till death do us part #demon oc #demigod oc #oc lore art #lore art #illustration #detailed art #artist on tumblr #oc artwork #art oc #artwork #digital drawing #moments before disaster #dun dun DUNNNNNNNNNNN

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ladamedusoif · 10 months

Text

Visiting - Chapter 9: Open Your Eyes

(Moodboard by @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: It's the new year and the new semester. Reunited in Barrow for the first time since her hasty departure, Lydia and Ben have some talking to do.

Word Count: 10.2k (they have a lot to get through!)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (Lydia is 42, and Ben is 47); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots-to-lovers; smut; fingering; PiV sex; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; serious self-esteem issues; references to panic attacks and anxiety disorders; references to past infidelity (not by Ben or Lydia); angst central.

A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by something Ben says to Lydia, which then made me think of this song by Snow Patrol. The video is a slightly edited version of C'était un rendez-vous, a 1976 short by the French director Claude Lelouch, so I feel that it fits this pair of idiots on multiple levels. (I frickin' love this film and I think it works gorgeously for the song.)

youtube

Thank you to everyone who's shown so much love for this pair so far - every comment, reblog, like, interaction, ask is just a joy to me.

Further A/N at the end of the chapter.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Cross-posting to AO3.

Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

@lunapascal and @julesonrecord - this has been a tough chapter, again, and I've needed the guidance and encouragement along the way. Thank you, as always, for your love for the dorksicles as well as your incredibly wise and insightful suggestions and editorial eyes. Bendie are forever thankful. You may well spot some of your specific suggestions in this chapter...

Taglist:

@lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @ruebyretro, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling

Your father interpreted your tears at the airport in January as homesickness.

“Just think, Lyd, it’s only a few more months, really.” He pats your arm, reassuring you as he always has. “And then you’ll be back over this side of the pond again and back to your real job and your normal life. And not so far away from all of us!”

You cried into his shoulder as you hovered near the entrance to the security screening area.

A final hug, a wipe of your tears, a brave face, and a wave goodbye.

You were homesick, or something like it. In this case, though, you were homesick for someone, not somewhere; homesick for him, for his smile, his kindness, his eyes, his careful embrace, his humour, his gentle strength.

And you were sick to your stomach with the constant, nagging fear that you had already destroyed that new and fragile home, all by yourself.

You knew he wouldn’t be back in Barrow until just before teaching resumed for the new semester - a long-standing plan to make additional use of his time on the west coast by getting some research done in specialist libraries.

You are torn between relief at not having to see him yet, not having to deliver your promised explanation, and feeling deeply anxious about the impact of the prolonged separation on Ben’s feelings towards you. He had suggested before Christmas that space was needed, and you’d agreed. The more significant that space became, however, the more you worried.

It wasn’t as if you were back in normal contact. Save for an exchange on New Year’s Eve, when you’d received a message from him sent at exactly midnight your time (and you reciprocated, setting your alarm so that you would wake just before midnight California time to send the message), there’d been next to no communication.

Kate reassures you via FaceTime. “Lyd, calm down. Like I said at Christmas, if this is all it takes to change his feelings then it’s a doomed enterprise.”

“I think it might be a doomed enterprise anyway, what with me having to go back to my job over there in September.”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, Apocalypse Lyd. Go on, catastrophise all you want. Not like anyone ever did a long-distance relationship or anything. Have you seen him yet?”

You shake your head. “He’s on research in California - pre-planned. Not back until next week.”

“You ready to talk it out?”

You pause, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. “Honestly? I won’t know until I see him again.”

“Happy New Year, Lydia!”

No such thing as January blues as far as Susan is concerned. You reach into your tote bag to retrieve a box of candies you’d picked up as a gift for her. “How were the holidays? I hope you got a well-deserved rest.”

You can hear her sincere expressions of gratitude and surprise as she starts to answer your question, but your mind is elsewhere. You cast your eyes along the rows of wooden cubby holes, each labelled with a staff member’s name.

B.E. MORALES

The sight of his full name makes your heart hurt.

“…and that is why Nick’s mother is never doing the holidays with us again, so help me.” Susan pauses. “Lydia, are you okay? Don’t take this personally, but you look terrible.”

Hard not to take that personally, Susan.

You try to rearrange your features into something resembling a smile. “It’s probably just jet lag or something. And I had my hands full at home with the niblings - they’re both under four so…” you make a goofy face and shrug your shoulders, hoping to distract from the bags under your eyes and your worn-out complexion.

Susan studies you for a moment and then beams. “Been there, done that! Nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”

Shit. The mention of coffee conjures up a mental image of Ben at your office door, armed with the two mugs. When you remember the smile on his face that last day you scrunch up your eyes, as if in pain.

You fucked it up, Lyd.

The rest of the week passes in a grey haze. You oscillate between anxiety and profound sadness, cortisol rushing through your veins as you try to work out how you can fix it, and then a feeling of absolute exhaustion as you realise you probably can’t. Your to-do list mounts, unable even to distract yourself with work.

The worst part is the knowledge that you did this. You’ve got no one else to blame. You freaked out. You ran away. You wrote your stupid note and you left him, all because you didn’t want to give in to the reality of your feelings - and the risk of loss that always comes with that.

Of course you fucked it up. You always do. You’re broken. Who would ever want you?

With a week to go before teaching, you lock into preparation mode. It’s a useful distraction, checking reading lists, planning seminar and workshop outlines, and catching up with some of your students who’ve already returned to campus.

You arrange a tutorial with Nia, one of the students in the additional workshop groups run as part of Ben’s equality and diversity initiative, to discuss her initial plans for an “un-essay” assignment - a form of assessment that allows the student to respond to the brief in any number of creative ways.

Her un-essay ideas include a reflective piece on food in poetry by Black women writers - with accompanying dishes. She’s a bright, smart girl, keen to tell you all the books she read over the break and compare notes on your choice of holiday movies.

Just before she leaves your office, she picks up her tote bag and rummages inside, producing a pretty, round tin and placing it on your desk.

“Made you some of my peanut butter cookies. I noticed you like Reese’s, so I assumed you might like these, too.”

You beam at Nia, heart swelling at the sweet thoughtfulness of her gesture. “You’re so kind! I can’t wait to try these.”

She reciprocates your smile as she heads to the door. “There’s plenty there for you and Professor Ben to share. See you in class!”

Wait. What? Did the students think… shit. Maybe she just said that because he ran the programme. That was probably it.

You open the tin, take out a cookie, and try not to think about it.

ANI: Hey Lyd! I’m just in the neighbourhood, you home?

LYDIA: Yep, just putting away some laundry. You want to pop by?

ANI: Great! See you soon.

You buzz Ani in, leaving your front door open as usual once you hear their steps on the stairs. “Hey, Lyd. Just thought I’d call round to say hi,” Ani explains, taking off their big winter coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway.

“You want some tea? Or something stronger?”

Ani nods, settling themselves on your couch. “Tea would be amazing.”

“Sure thing.” You continue the conversation from your tiny kitchen. Ani reminds you of the drinks party at Jen’s house on Friday night, in two days’ time - it’s her wife, Rachel’s, birthday, and she’s invited some faculty colleagues.

Given how close she is to Ben, having joined the faculty at the same time, he’ll almost certainly be there - assuming he’s back by then. You feel nauseous.

Ani gratefully takes their cup of hot tea - made strong, as they prefer - crosses their legs, and looks at you with what you suspect is concern. “Lyd, are you doing okay?”

“Why’d you ask?”

They sigh, placing the steaming cup down on the coffee table as you join them on the couch. “Lyd, you’ve been completely out of sorts since you came back. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just homesickness, as you claimed when Evan asked you if you were okay earlier this week.”

You open your mouth, ready to protest, but Ani shakes their head and places a hand on your knee to still you.

“We’re worried about you, Lyd. Obviously, it’s up to you what you do or don’t want to tell me, but just know that I am here for you. That we’re here for you.”

You sip your tea and nod, averting your eyes.

Ani purses their lips, hands wrapped around their cup. “I could be way off with this, and yell at me if I am. But - Lyd, is there - was there - something happening between you and Ben?”

You stare at the floor, afraid you’ll give too much away in your expression if you look at them directly.

“Lydia? If I’ve got this wrong, tell me. If it’s something else…”

Your voice is almost inaudible. “It’s not. I mean, you’re not wrong. That is… yeah. How did you know?”

Ani sips their tea, allowing themselves a little smile. “I mean I didn’t know know, I just had a feeling. I knew you guys were close but it’s academia, y’know? That’s not unusual, and he really wanted to help you settle in. But then we went out for your birthday, that’s what made me really wonder.”

You raise your eyebrows, still hunched up staring at the floor. They take their phone out of their bag, swiping through their photo album back through the weeks and months to your birthday weekend. “Look, we’re academics - we love the evidence, we search for proof. So here’s my source.”

Ani presses play on a video that, at first glance, is a selfie of them dancing at the bar with Evan, making faces into the camera.

“Lyd, look at the action in the background.”

Even the slightly out-of-focus footage has captured the huge smiles on both your faces as Ben reaches for you and you move together in time with the music. He beams at you, eyes crinkling as he laughs when you throw in an extra move. Your eyes are shining. Your joy is so obvious, so beautiful after so many years of numbness and hurt, and so painful knowing what you would do to him just a few weeks later.

Ani breaks the silence and tries to lighten the mood. “Basically, since then I’ve been waiting for you guys to finally wise up and just fuck. It took ages to convince Ev, for some reason. I think he was pissed that I saw it first. And then it turned out that David was on the ball first. Evan was furious.” You huff a laugh, covering your face with your free hand.

“When I heard you’d spent Thanksgiving together, I thought the Eagle had landed. Wrong, of course.”

“We, um - we did kiss on Thanksgiving. But we thought it was by mistake.”

Ani rolls their eyes. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Fucking dorks. Fucking idiots, in fact.”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “And - David. He saw it in how we were together. He - he told me he thought Ben had feelings for me a couple of days before I went home for the holidays, and -”

“And I think he might have told Ben the same, to help you two realise. Or at least, to help you act on what you already knew.” Their voice is gentle and kind. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I…shit.” You stammer, tripping over your words and trying not to cry. “I did something really fucking stupid. I ruined it, like I always do, and now I can’t fix it and -“

The tears start to fall.

“I don’t know what to do. I… he’s really hurt. I hurt him, Ani. I care about him so much and I fucking hurt him. I don’t think I can make it right.”

Ani wraps an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Start at the beginning, Lyd. And whatever happened, you probably can fix this, you know?”

Ani puts their hands on your shoulders as you stand on Jen and Rachel’s doorstep. Their dark eyes are serious but kind, their face framed by an enormous black faux fur Cossack hat.

“What do you got, Lyd?”

You bite your lip. “I…I got this.”

“You got this. Let’s go, girl.”

At first, you think he didn’t come. You move through the hallway into Jen and Rachel’s spacious, open-plan living and dining room, scanning the clusters of guests for a familiar face. A mixture of relief and disappointment floods your brain. You can relax now, right? In search of a drink, you head for the kitchen, and -

He’s talking animatedly to a couple of colleagues from literature, those kind eyes crinkling behind his glasses as he smiles and laughs. He’s wearing a plaid Henley shirt in a sort of blue and purple flannel, with a dark blue cardigan over it. Hair neat, but long enough to brush the top of his shirt collar. As gorgeous as you remembered - more so, even.

Your heart races and your stomach leaps at the sight of him. Sure, you’re nervous. But it’s not just that. The physical symptoms of anxiety have much in common with the physiological manifestations of sexual and romantic attraction, after all, and a quick glance at him is enough to confirm just how bad you have it.

You reach for a glass of red wine from the selection of drinks set out on the kitchen island, and you beat a hasty retreat before he spots you.

He saw you, of course. He’s been watching and waiting for you, observing the other guests just as you’d done, simultaneously hoping and fearing he would look up and meet your gaze across the room.

Now that you’re there, he’s not entirely sure what he should do. Like you, he’s wary of confrontation, of taking action and getting it ‘wrong’, without knowing the consequences ahead of time.

But, despite the slight thaw caused by your sporadic contact over the break, he’s also hurt and more than a little stubborn. You left with just a note. You casually brushed off the night you spent together, in spite of everything he tried to show you about how he felt about you. Surely you needed to make the first move now?

Even so, his heart lifts when he sees you across the room. Photos on his phone don’t do you justice, don’t capture the way you move, the way your eyes catch the light, the essential you-ness that he has been so enamoured with.

He decides not to let on that he’s noticed you.

Ani catches up with you near one of the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookshelves that line the living room. “I know it’s easier to just hide here feigning interest in their book collection, Lyd, but -”

“I’m not feigning interest! I’m curious about other people’s books.” You tilt your head and continue reading the titles from the spines, until Ani moves their body between you and the books.

“Lydia. I swear to fucking God. He’s right fucking there,” Ani hisses, jerking their head in the direction of the kitchen. “I will march you in there and I will make you talk to each other.”

You can feel your palms getting clammy, and you place your wine glass down on a coaster in case it slips from your nervous grasp. “And what do I say, Ani? How do I do this? It’s not exactly private…”

They nod over at Rachel, who’s just come into the room, smiling and mouthing birthday wishes before turning back to you. “You’re a forty-two year old woman with a PhD, Lyd. It’s not beyond your capabilities to ask him to speak to you outside, or in their guest bathroom, or bedroom, or wherever.” Their tone is irritated, and you close your eyes as if shielding yourself from further hurt.

“Lyd, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh. It’s just - come on. We talked about this. I know exactly what you feel for him. I have a hunch he feels the same for you - everything you said suggests it. You fucking care so much about each other.” They inhale deeply, lightly reaching for your hand. “Why not just tell him? From what you said about that night, you made it pretty clear you were into him, and vice versa.”

You open your eyes and meet Ani’s kind expression. “And if it’s what I fear? What if all the space we’ve had has convinced him nothing more can happen?”

They squeeze your hand. “Neither of us know what he’s going to say. But you’ve been through so much worse, Lyd. You survived the kind of shit that could destroy some people. So, if it’s bad now - well, you’ll survive again. And if it’s good -”

“Then I have to leave it all behind in a few months, when the fellowship is done.”

Ani cocks an eyebrow. “Now you’re just making fucking excuses. Come on,” they take your hand and usher you towards the dining table, laid out with snacks, “let’s get some chips and dip first. Call it sustenance for the campaign ahead.”

Ani’s strategy, it transpires, is to take one of the vintage Chip n’ Dip dishes and to saunter into the kitchen with it, moving steadily towards the cluster of literature professors as you trail behind.

They greet your colleagues enthusiastically and starts passing around the food. You can feel your face starting to burn as you try to cast a glance at Ben, to gauge his mood from the look on his face. You furtively take in his expression, and it breaks your heart. From the smiling, talkative man you’d seen when you arrived, his eyes have darkened and his lips are set in a firm line.

Ani quietly nudges you, encouraging you to make the first move and break through the invisible shield he’s placing between the two of you.

Your mouth is dry and your palms are clammy as you start to speak to him. You try not to think about the last time you’d seen him. “H-h-hi. D-did you enjoy the holidays?”

He turns slightly towards you, still avoiding looking at you directly. “They were good. Nice to be with family.” He sighs and takes a large sip of his wine.

Silence. It’s all you can do to avoid your natural tendency to fill the gap with rambling chit-chat. You nudge him slightly out of the group to avoid being overheard.

“Could we talk, just for a few minutes? I need to -“

At this, he finally makes eye contact with you, and the hurt in his brown eyes is almost more than you can bear. He responds quietly but firmly.

“You want to talk? You want to talk, here? Now? At a party?” He sounds incredulous.

“I told you I’d explain, and I told you it would be easier to do that face to face. So, here we are.” You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from starting to cry or lashing out, channeling your anxiety and irritation into sarcasm. “Forgive me for taking this rare opportunity to have a very important conversation with you,” you hiss.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you really need to say, anyway,” he mutters quietly, “you made your feelings clear.” His expression is hard as he steps away and moves to walk out of the kitchen. In a reflex action, you reach out and lightly touch his wrist. He turns back for a moment.

“I told you I was sorry and that I could explain. That note… that’s not my feelings.” You drop your head to stare at the floor, before lifting it back to meet his gaze. “If you want to talk to me, I’ll be out at the front porch, okay? I need some fresh air, anyway. But I also really want a chance to talk. Please.”

And he’s gone.

You didn’t think through the whole ‘outdoor chat’ thing. New England January nights are colder than anything you’ve regularly experienced before, and you have been sitting on the front steps of Jen and Rachel’s home for what feels like forever. In truth, it’s been about ten minutes - but the more time that goes by without any sign of Ben, the more you despair. Although you’re snuggled into your bulky winter coat, face barely visible underneath your warm, red cable-knit hat and scarf set, the cold is starting to bite.

You tug off a glove and reach into your pocket for your phone, composing a message for Ani:

Hey. I asked him to come out and talk but he doesn’t want to. I’m going home - just can’t be in there. I’m sorry - please apologise to Rachel and Jen for me, say I’m sick or something. x

You start off down the path from the front door to the pavement, double-checking the route on your phone. The house isn’t too far away from your apartment building, and a walk might help clear your head.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The snowflakes cling to your coat and hat, the flurries intensifying quickly. You swipe open the app on your phone, fingers stiff in the freezing weather. No cabs.

“Fuck this.”

As you round the block and head for home, the tears start to fall, soaking into the woollen scarf wrapped around your mouth.

“Where’s Lyd? Did you talk to her?”

Ani finds Ben sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the shelves displaying Rachel’s substantial record collection, flipping through the vinyls as if he’s looking for something in particular.

He isn’t. He just can’t bear trying to be normal and socialise with everyone else again, not after seeing you. There’s an ache in his chest as he thinks about the pleading look in your eyes when you asked him to come and hear what you had to say.

His stomach churns as he wonders if you’re still waiting for him.

He feigns interest in a copy of Blonde on Blonde, staring at the liner notes like he’s never seen the record before in his life. “She said she wanted to talk, that she’d meet me outside, but I - I couldn’t.”

Ani looks murderous and runs a hand over their dark curls.

“You couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

“Does it matter? Given that you’re asking about this, I’m assuming you know what happened.”

Ani scoots down to sit beside Ben on the floor. Their voice is low but intense. They are not mincing their words.

“I know what happened. I know that she messed up. I have told her she messed up. She knows she messed up. But I also know why she messed up and that you need to hear her out. If not for your sake or her sake, then for all our sakes. I can’t take much more of the two of you moping around like this.”

He shrugs. Ani rolls their eyes.

“So help me, Benjamin Morales, you can be a stubborn fucking asshole.”

Ben furrows his brow and sucks his teeth.

Jen appears, her attention caught by the sight of Ani visibly berating Ben from their spot on the floor. “Have you spoken to Lydia, Ben?”

Ani raises their brows. “How did you know?”

Jen waves her hand, as if exasperated by her old friend. “I had my suspicions, eventually got it out of him earlier this week, now he’s being an idiot because he’s not doing what I told him and going to speak to Lyd.” She looks around her living room. “Where is Lyd?”

“Outside,” Ben mutters.

Jen, face like thunder, pokes him in the back with the toe of her block-heeled boot. “I love you like a brother but if you don’t get the fuck out and find that woman, I will never speak to you again.”

You wrap your scarf tighter around your face, trying to shield yourself from the increasingly heavy snowfall. You have never been so grateful for the solid strength and warmth of your dark red Dr Martens.

Thank fuck I wore jeans and a blouse, you think. Could have been the wrap dress.

You pause for a moment to give your face a break from the onslaught of the snow and wind, turning your back to the persistent flurries.

“LYD?”

At first, you think you’re imagining it. It’s a noise on the wind, whipping snow at your face and burying your heart cold and deep.

“LYDDIE?”

That is definitely not a noise on the wind.

You turn around to see Ben steadily walking towards you, his black Dr Martens shoes crunching through the fresh snow that’s already covering your footprints.

He’s wearing the merino wool watchcap you made him for Christmas, the Prussian blue perfectly complementing the navy wool of his pea coat. A little voice inside you pipes up that he couldn’t hate you, at least, if he was wearing something you’d made for him with your own two hands.

“What the hell, Lyd?” He’s beside you, now, covered in a dusting of snow, big dark eyes staring intently into yours from behind his slightly fogged-up spectacles. “What are you doing out here?”

You are physically shaking with nerves and cold. “I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to explain, I told you where I would be, and…” you sniffle, glad of the snow as an excuse for your tears and red eyes, “And you didn’t even want to hear it. You didn’t even want to talk to me.” Your teeth chatter. “So…so I d-d-decided to g-g-go h-h-h-home.”

You wipe at your eyes with your gloved hands. “Stupid snow makes m-m-me cry,” you offer, by way of an explanation.

He doesn’t quite know why he does it. Maybe it’s his own need for reassurance, his instinctive urge to give you comfort, or maybe it’s the fact that, deep down, he’s missed you.

Ben steps closer to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Lyd.” He holds you tightly for a moment before pulling away. “I was being a dick. I do want to talk.”

“I’m g-g-going home. Come with me if you want, and hear m-me out.”

“Okay. Fuck, it’s freezing.” He reaches into his coat pocket for his phone.

“No cabs. It’s not that far.”

He nods. You reach over, instinctively, doing up the top button on his coat and pulling the knitted hat a little more firmly over his ears.

He brings a gloved hand to meet yours, and for a moment you think he’s going to push you away. Instead, he gives your hand a little squeeze.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay, heating is on, thermostat’s up, kettle is boiling to make some coffee - um, I know this is going to sound weird, but are you hungry? I think I had a single tortilla chip to eat at Jen’s.”

Ben is standing at the door of your tiny kitchen, an old, baggy hoodie of yours over his shirt and cardigan as an extra layer of heat, arms crossed over his chest and hands rubbing his upper arms as he tries to warm up.

“I’m fucking s-s-starving.”

You have an urge to wrap your arms around him and get warm by sharing your body heat. But you haven’t even talked about it, yet.

“Okay, well…” You poke your head into the fridge and freezer in succession. “I’ve got a frozen pizza.”

“F-f-fucking perfect.”

It all feels a little too normal as you sit in the living area with your coffees, waiting for the pizza to cook. You’ve wrapped yourself in your crocheted blanket while you warm up, legs tucked under you on the couch and hands gripping your mug for warmth.

“I feel like I should be starting to explain,” you say, glancing down at your coffee.

Ben shakes his head. “Let’s eat, first, and then we can talk. Better not to do that hungry.”

There’s still a few minutes before the pizza will be done. You try to make the most of these moments of “normality”, before you have to try to explain your actions to him and hope that he feels the same as you.

“I did love your holiday makeover, by the way.”

He turns to look at you, a little smile creeping across his lips.

“You know I only got the polish off two days before I came back? Glitter is resilient.” He laughs to himself. “I think Jules liked doing it, though. How’s your gift-wrap injury?”

“Healed up. More worrying is the fact I don’t think I’ve located all of the stickers Cora put on my person over the break. I’m concerned one will turn up in some strange part of my body.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “If I spot any unexpectedly I’ll be sure to signal it.”

“You had a good time at home, though?”

He nods. “It was great to be with them all. You?”

“Same. Good to be home.”

You are reminded of the tears you shed at the airport, homesick not for your family but for him.

“Thing is, I was glad to come back.” He looks up at you, eyes curious. “Because this feels like home, too.”

You eat the pizza companionably on the couch, washed down with cans of soda. Ben offers to stack the plates in the dishwasher. As he returns to the couch, you broach the subject.

“Can we talk?”

He nods and settles beside you. Your stomach does backflips at the prospect of having to finally say the words you’ve been mentally rehearsing since the day you left.

“I want to explain, and I want to - well, I want to try to make things right, because I did something wrong.” You look up at him, his dark eyes meeting yours, and it’s all you can do not to ditch the speech and try to show him what you feel in ways beyond words.

“I’m so, so sorry, Ben. I…”

And then he’s bridging the gap between your two bodies; gently caressing your face with his hands; tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes ask the question, and before you’ve finished nodding your assent his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he’ll never get the chance again: hungry but tender, urgent but loving.

He brings his hands to wrap around your body, gently encouraging you to lie back on the couch and quickly pulling a cushion into position behind your head.

Your brain is shouting at you about how you need to do this properly, to talk first and then act, if you both want to.

Your body is responding rather differently. It couldn’t be any smoother if you’d rehearsed this: your legs opening wide to accommodate Ben’s gorgeous broadness, knees hitching around him as you try to pull him closer, hands tugging at the old hoodie, easing it off over his head, and fingers fumbling to undo the buttons on his flannel shirt.

He breaks away from the kiss, moving his mouth to the side of your neck and working his way down to your chest with a succession of kisses, gentle nibbles, and light sucking, interspersed with little moans and whispers of your name. You can feel his hands roving under your blouse, loosening your tank from the waistband of your jeans so he can feel your soft, warm flesh in his hands.

You gasp at the sensation. Your body is silently screaming for Ben, begging wordlessly for him to unzip your jeans and slip his hand between your soaking folds. Even so, your brain still wants to have a say.

“Ben…Ben… wait.” He pulls away but remains close to your body, looking up at you.

“You want me to stop, Lyd?”

You shake your head. “No, never, but… we were supposed to talk and -”

“We will.” He places a soft kiss to your exposed décolletage, and you moan.

You pull him towards you and kiss him firmly on the mouth, lifting your hips towards his and feeling the friction of him, already hard in his dark jeans.

“Fuck, Lyd…”

“Fuck it, we can talk later.” You encourage him to move off you and wriggle yourself off the couch, taking him by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You’re lying on your bed, Ben’s solid, comforting weight on top of you, both of you working urgently, desperately, to undress each other. You’d eased him out of his flannel shirt as soon as you got into the bedroom, pausing for a moment to admire his beautiful body in the slim-fit grey T-shirt he was wearing underneath before peeling it off him as you fell onto the bed.

He’s murmuring into your ear and trailing his lips down the line of your neck as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. “Fucking missed you so fucking much, Lyd,” he mutters, sucking so perfectly at your neck that you feel like your entire body is arching off the mattress. He sits you up slightly so he can tug away the blouse and peel off your tank top, tossing it aside as he reaches around to unhook your bra.

His big hands grope your tits, fingers gently pinching your nipples before his tongue swirls over them, triggering a cry of pleasure from you.

“FUCK, Ben, I really missed you, too…need you, baby.”

He moves his hands down to undo your jeans, slipping his long fingers inside. You’ve already unbuttoned his jeans and you pull down the zipper before sitting up to tug them - and his boxer briefs - down. His cock springs free, already hard and weeping, and you grip it gently before giving it a few strokes.

Ben groans loudly as he looks down, wanting to see your fingers working his cock. He pulls off your jeans and panties and meets your gaze again as you open your legs wide.

“This okay?”

You nod frantically. “It’s fucking perfect.”

He smiles and reaches between your legs to drag two long fingers over your folds. The look on his face is one of surprise and arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Lyd. So wet for me already.” He looks down to watch his fingers working through your slick, occasionally dipping his fingertips into your cunt and making you cry out with need and desire. “What do you want, baby?”

He keeps fucking you with his fingers as he looks into your eyes. It seems that’s what triggers your first orgasm: his big eyes gazing at you, so warm and so kind, while his thick fingers are pushing in and out of your pussy, making lewd, wet noises.

“Oh, fuck!” You come on his fingers, a wicked little smile on his face. “You, Ben, I want you. Want you to fuck me hard. Need you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, closing his eyes as he feels your taste on his lips and tongue. The sight makes your pussy throb, but you need more.

“You ready for me, Lyddie?”

You nod and spread your legs as he quickly lines himself up, pushing inside you in a single, fluid motion that seems to knock the air clean out of your lungs. You reach up and take his head in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss as he starts to move. He drags his cock in and out, slowly, deliberately; dark eyes watching you writhe and mewl under his broad body.

“Please, Ben -”

He begins to fuck you harder, deeper, rarely taking his eyes off you. Despite the urgency it’s imbued with a tenderness and a desperate need that matches your own. Your body responds intuitively as you hitch up your knees and shift your hips slightly to meet his firm thrusts and take him even more deeply.

You fuck each other as though you’re trying to fuse yourselves irrevocably together, using your bodies to take the first step towards overcoming the rift and separation. The sensation of soft, warm skin, of fingertips trailing over a breast, a bicep, a thigh, begins to say the words you still don’t quite know how to articulate.

Your hips are moving quicker now, fucking him as much as he is fucking you, and Ben leans back a little to look down at where your bodies are joined. He looks up at you from under his lashes, half-smiling as he admires the way your body moves in perfect sync with his. You reach for his strong forearms, fingers gripping his firm, lightly golden flesh to give you greater purchase as your hips roll upwards, trying to sate your longing and your frustration. Ben lets out a deep, guttural cry.

“Fucking hell, Lyd!”

“Want to fuck you, baby,” you murmur, not letting up the rhythm. “Please. Want to get on top.”

He rolls carefully onto his back, holding you in position around your hips as you shift your knees and brace your core. The change in position has his cock hitting you at a different angle, grazing against that perfect, spongy spot just inside your cunt, and you take a moment to savour the feeling before beginning to ride him.

You move with intention, purpose, determination, trying to let your body speak for you before you use your words, later. The sight of his beautiful face, eyes screwed up in pleasure and mouth slightly open, sends a pulse thrumming through you and almost gets you off again. You want more. You want to give him more. You want to give him everything.

Your hands reach down your body, seeking his broad palms and thick, gentle fingers; you place one hand over your left breast and encourage him to use the other to start massaging the slick-soaked pearl of your clit.

You cry out his name as you come, rhythm faltering a little. Ben encourages you to lift yourself off his cock for a moment, pushing himself up to a sitting position against your headboard before you straddle him again, taking his hard length deep into your warm, wet cunt and making him groan loudly.

The two of you, again. You and him, him and you, clinging to each other in mutual desire and reassurance. Bodies pressed together, the heavy weight of your tits pushed against the broadness of his chest, the warm softness of his tummy grazing against yours. You kiss, his tongue swiping at your lips and exploring your mouth: two as one.

He breaks away as he fucks up into you, arms still wrapped around you. You close your eyes, keening with pleasure.

“Open your eyes, Lydia.”

You blink, meeting his coffee-brown gaze. He smiles and caresses your face, slowing down the pace as he does so. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Just slowing down a little or I won’t last, baby.”

You pepper his neck and shoulders with tiny kisses, seeking out the little freckles and marks you love. Each press of your lips to his skin is a silent apology, an unspoken explanation, an attempt to convey through touch what you feel for him, how much he means to you.

I am so sorry. I missed you so very much. I need you. I care about you. I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.

And I love you.

“I’m close, baby. Gonna lie you back down, is that okay?”

You nod, kissing Ben as he eases you onto the bed. He pulls out for a moment as you change positions, and you whine a little at the loss of his cock inside you.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss to your breast as he slides back inside you, “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

You twine your hands around his neck and reach to run your fingers through his dark curls, listening to the obscene sound of your wetness against him as he fucks you. You hitch up your legs and slip down a hand to grip his ass as he drives in and out of you.

“Fuck-fucking hell, baby - jesus, that feels so good. You feel so fucking perfect, so fucking wet. Taking me like this -”

He stutters as he buries his face in your neck, thrusting harder and faster as he gets closer. You wrap your arms around his broad back, finding arousal and reassurance in the warm softness of his body.

“I love having you inside me, y’know,” you whisper in his ear. “I love taking you, all of you, feeling the stretch in my cunt when you fuck me.”

Your dirty talk has the desired effect and you watch as his body stiffens and expression changes. He groans as he comes hard, continuing to fuck into you as you feel him fill you, hot and deep.

He doesn’t pull out immediately, pausing while he’s still on top of you to plant a lingering kiss to your lips. He takes in your fucked-out expression. His own is similarly wrecked, eyes hooded and pussydrunk, perspiration glistening on his face and body.

“Fuck, baby, that was…”

“Fucking incredible.”

You trace your hand over his jaw, gently feeling the scratchy hair underneath as you move your fingers to his lips.

“I missed you so fucking much, Ben. I’m so sorry.”

He takes your hand in his and kisses your fingertips, then pulls out and lies back beside you on the bed, still holding your hand.

“I missed you so, so much, Lyddie.” He looks up at the ceiling, suddenly puzzled. “How did we end up at this end of the bed?”

You giggle. “I didn’t keep track of the logistics but we covered a lot of ground tonight.” You kiss the firm skin of his shoulder and sit up. “I’m going to freshen up. Be back in a minute.”

When you return, Ben is under the comforter, lying back on the pillows at the head of the bed. You stop for a moment to take in the image. You had forgotten this was the first time he’d ever been over to your place, and he looks right at home.

He smiles warmly as you climb back into bed, shivering a little as you discard your robe. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, tucking the comforter around you to keep you warm. You nuzzle into his chest, humming contentedly to yourself.

“Lyd?” His voice is quiet and soft and it makes your heart sing to hear it like this, in bed, naked and sated and cuddled together.

“Mmmhmm?”

“You - you framed my card.”

You had framed his birthday card, and it had sat on your nightstand since November. And you forgot he would see it.

Shit.

You look up at him, a little panicked. The look on his face immediately reassures you, and you reach up to trace a finger along the grey patches on his jaw.

“I just really loved it, the card, the message. And it…it meant so much.”

He blushes a little. “That’s really…it’s great.”

He holds you a little closer.

“Ben?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m going to explain.”

He brings his other arm around you and plants a kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay, Lyd. I’m here.”

You take a deep breath and lightly rest your hand on his chest, trying to ground yourself with the rhythm of his heartbeat and the feeling of his warm skin.

“I left the way I did because I was scared.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “Not scared of you, I’d never be scared of you. Scared of - well, scared of a lot of things. And I’m not even sure if I can explain them all properly, but I’ll do my best.”

You nuzzle a little more into the warmth of his side, cheek pressed lightly to his chest.

“I had such a wonderful time with you that night. It was amazing. You know that, right?”

Ben looks down at you. “I do.”

“But then I woke early, and it was like the little bully that lives in my brain decided it was going to do its worst. I panicked, Ben. All I could think was that you would realise it was a mistake, eventually, and see how I was old and unattractive and broken, and…” You pause for a moment, trying not to let the tears fall. “And that I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Oh, Lyddie. No, Lyd.” Ben squeezes you gently, planting another kiss to the crown of your head.

“I tried to talk myself down, I really did. But it’s one thing doing that in the light of day, it’s another altogether at five in the morning. So it was like the defences just went back up.”

“Defences?”

“Like… I dunno. Defences against feelings, or wanting someone properly? Shit. I’m not explaining this very well.”

He shakes his head. “You’re doing perfectly fine. If you want to stop, just say.”

Another deep breath. “It’s not the only reason. But…the way everything fell apart with my last relationship, it - it made me harden myself because…I don’t know, I convinced myself if I kept up defences around my heart and soul I wouldn’t get hurt again? Something like that. It was fine to have hookups or one night stands, but anything more serious - couldn’t happen.”

“So you pulled up the drawbridge.”

You nod. “And it wasn’t just about protecting me from getting hurt again, it was about protecting others from me fucking everything up, like I always do. Ruining things, like I always have. And then there’s the visiting thing.”

“You don’t fuck everything up, Lyd, you don’t ruin things, and it’s so sad that you think you do, because - well, have you ever considered how much you make things better?” You look up at him, eyes disbelieving but filled with emotion at his words.

“And what do you mean, visiting thing?”

“Me being a visiting professor, me having to go home to my permanent job… the way I was feeling that morning, all I could think was how this would have to end, and how - how I couldn’t handle the thoughts of not having this, because of the way I felt - the way I feel - about you.”

You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, trying to quell the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you.

“I didn’t come here looking for anyone. I was happy with my life the way it was - I wasn’t wandering around lost and lonely, desperate for a partner. My life was great, really. And then I met you, and I realised what I felt for you. I was starting to open myself up again, and I’d never, ever thought I’d do that. I never thought I’d have those feelings again, let alone…fall for someone. And certainly not someone as wonderful as you.”

“Lyd, you…”

You shake your head, wanting to get the words out while they’re flowing freely. “Over the holidays I realised that’s what was really scaring me. That’s what was at the root of it all, all the fear and panic - the way I feel about you, the way I care so much about you. It was so big, you know? The realisation of what I felt, of how much I cared, the knowledge that you had feelings for me, too. Sleeping with you, knowing how good that was, feeling like I wanted to stay with you like that forever.”

You pause for a moment. “And then my stupid, stupid brain kicks in, because it’s wired to run from things that feel like they’re going to overwhelm me.”

He gives you another cuddle. “That is not a stupid brain and you know it.”

“It feels like it is. It’s ironic, I thought I had to run so I didn’t ruin things. But turns out I might have ruined them anyway.” You pull away a little, still keeping a hand on his chest but propping yourself up so you can see his face properly. “I hate that I hurt you. I hurt you. And I feel so terrible that my own issues - my past - made me feel like I needed to do something stupid and in the process to hurt the man I…care so much for.”

You shake your head ruefully. “I don’t want to be scared any more. I don’t need to be scared. And I don’t need the past to affect my life now, I won’t let it. I just hope that, regardless of what you want to happen with us, that you can -”

You’ve been really good with the tears so far. You’ve managed to keep them at bay. But they’re prickling, gathering in your eyes and clouding your vision of Ben’s kind face and broad shoulders, and they won’t stay put much longer. You tilt your head upwards, trying to stave them off.

“Forgive me.”

Ben reaches up to wipe away the fat tear that’s rolling down your cheek, his thumb stroking softly across your face. He sits up in bed and wraps his arms around you.

He doesn’t say it to you, but he was ready to forgive you as soon as he looked into your eyes at Jen’s house.

“Of course, Lyddie. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt - still hurts a little - though, and that’s important too.”

You pull back slightly and take his left hand in yours, tracing your thumb over his tattoo.

“I know, Ben, and I’m so, so sorry.”

He takes a deep breath. “Thing is, you’re not the only one who was scared. Is scared. Love is scary, y’know?” He meets your gaze, his eyes and expression perhaps more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen them. “Especially when it’s new love. It’s exciting but it’s terrifying because… well, because it’s fragile, and it can be lost. And that feels even more of a risk when you - when you have lost love.”

“I mean it, I don’t want my past -”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your past, I mean mine. You’re not the only one who’s scared, and you’re not the only one who was fucked over.”

Oh, shit.

You nuzzle against his shoulder. “You can tell me, if you want.”

He rests his head against yours. “Shit. It’s…it’s a long time ago. But it fucks you up, doesn’t it?” You nod silently. “I met the person I thought I’d be with for the rest of my life during my doctoral programme. Six years, all fine, and then one day - that was it, out of the blue. The usual explanations: unhappy for a long time, we grew apart, all that kind of thing.”

“Sounds familiar,” you say wearily. You heard it all the day your ex left. It was like a script had been pre-circulated.

“You can guess what’s coming next, then.”

“Someone else?”

“There was someone else. Like I said, it’s a long time ago, Lyd. A lot longer than yours. It’s all in the distant past now, and therapy helped a lot early on.” He sighs. “But I guess I did something similar to you. Put up the defences, wasn’t looking for anyone, kept everything very casual, on the rare occasions it happened.”

You bring an arm around his torso, holding him close.

“And I was happy. I was really happy: I had wonderful friends, eventually I got a job I love, I have my family, my siblings, their kids. I was fine.” He pauses, jaw ticking. “I was fine, and then - then you came along.”

You pull back. His tone is confusing.

Ben turns to look at you, takes in your worried expression, and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean ‘you came along and ruined things’, please don’t worry.” You visibly relax and squeeze his hand.

“What I mean is - you came along, and you changed things. You changed everything. You think you ruin things, Lyd, and that just couldn’t be further from the truth. I… fuck. You changed my life, changed the way I thought about the future, about what I wanted, about opening up again.”

Tears threaten at your eyes again. “So when you woke up and I wasn’t there…”

He looks up, and his eyes are red-rimmed. “I thought it was happening again. And it just felt like I shouldn’t have opened up and let you in.”

You swallow, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Fuck, Ben. I’m so fucking sorry, I’m just such a fucking broken mess.”

“Lyd, for fuck’s sake.” His tone is firmer, more stern. You look at him, a little surprised. “You’re not a broken mess. You - fuck it, you just weren’t loved the way you should have been. The way you deserve to be.”

“Jesus, Ben, I -” You pause, and he looks at you expectantly. “Well, that makes two of us. You weren’t loved like you deserve to be either, based on what you’ve said.”

He smiles softly, looking at you from under his lashes. “We’re quite a pair.”

You caress his face, reaching up to gently bring your fingers through his hair, and place a tiny, soft kiss to the beautiful curve of his nose.

“I think we are quite a pair, actually.”

You blink awake in the wee small hours, eyes adjusting in the darkness as you take in the handsome sight of Ben’s sleeping face. The last time you woke up with him, you panicked and fled. This time, you smile softly, noticing that his hand is resting lightly on your hip, and lean in to gently kiss his warm, broad chest.

His hand shifts and he smiles, eyes still closed, as he traces the curve of your body over your hip, your waist, and onto the heavy fullness of your breasts. He seeks out your nipples with his fingertips and you sigh with pleasure, reaching down to take his cock, already stiffening, in your hand. He kisses you, moaning as you stroke him a few times, and then carefully rolls you onto your back, positions himself on top of you, and uses his knee to open your legs a little wider for him.

“’M still wet, baby,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. “Fuck me.”

He lines himself up to take you: slowly, gently, still drowsy. You feel every inch of him as he fucks you to a slow, steady rhythm. Between the drag of his cock working in and out, and the silence punctured only by the sounds of you and Ben panting, your bodies moving against each other, you’re close to the edge before long.

He gets you there with a well-timed thumb to your clit, gently circling it until you fall apart again and he lets go inside you, kissing your neck and mouth as he pulls out before helping you clean up, moving in for some cuddles, and falling asleep again with you in his arms.

It’s definitely not the kind of sex that cheesy novels are made of, but it makes you happy because of that. It’s soft, intimate, settled - domestic, even, like you’ve been together a long time. You still need to talk about what you both actually want, of course, but - if this is anything to go by - it feels like you might well be on the same page.

He’s not there when you reach for him in the morning. You sit bolt upright, suddenly paranoid that Ben might have done to you what you did to him.

But then your eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through the blinds, and you can hear clattering and humming coming from the direction of the kitchen. You reach for a pair of pyjama pants and an old sweatshirt, and pad from the bedroom into the living and dining room and through the door into the tiny kitchen.

Ben is standing at the main counter, his back to you, measuring out coffee for your filter machine while humming random melodies to himself. He’s wearing the big, old Paris Review hoodie you’d loaned him when he came home with you the evening before, as well as his boxers and a strangely familiar-looking pair of brightly-coloured socks, covered with a pattern of books and pens and -

Oh, fuck. Those socks. Your Christmas present to him. He’d worn them to Jen’s party.

You take a few short steps across the kitchen floor and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade and inhaling deeply.

“Hi, Lyddie.”

He turns and shifts his body so he can see you properly. He’s got his glasses on, his hair is tousled, curls sticking up in every direction, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“You look a lot better in that hoodie than I do.”

He looks down at the magazine logo on the sweatshirt. “Were you a subscriber?”

“It was a gift from a friend years and years ago. We had a running joke about the idea of a magazine reviewing Paris, she saw it and ordered it for me. It’s cosy, isn’t it?”

He beams and puts an arm around you, gently pulling you to his side as the coffee machine splutters into life. “Very cosy, baby.”

“It’s nice, here.” Ben looks around the apartment as he sips the coffee, sitting beside you at the small dining table. “It’s very…”

“Basic?”

He arches an eyebrow over the rim of his mug. “I was going to say it’s very you. You’ve made it your own, even if it is basic.”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it, marvelling at the butterflies you feel at the simple sensation of the touch of his hand, even after having slept with him twice.

“Ben?”

He looks at you, eyes soft and warm.

“I want this. Whatever this is, right now, I want it. I want to try it, anyway. I want you. I want you and me, I want there to be an ‘us’. I meant what I said last night, I’m not scared. Well, I am, because I still don’t know what happens when I have to leave and what if that ruins everything and then -”

He squeezes your hand in return. “Lyddie, you’re spiralling.”

You laugh and take a deep breath. “I guess what I’m asking is - if I wasn’t a broken weirdo who ran out on you, what would you want? What do you want?”

“Lyd, please. You’re not a weirdo, and you’re not fucking broken. You’re strong, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and - fuck, you’re a fucking goddess, Lyd, and I’ll tell you that every goddamn day.” He looks at you, expression deadly serious before softening into a smile. “Surely you know I want this, too? You, me, an ‘us’? How could I not?”

You put your hands to his face and pull him in for a kiss. No more fear, even if this was scary, in its own way.

And you remember something he said last night.

“Ben, can I ask you about something you said last night?”

He smiles beatifically and nods.

“When I was explaining about being scared, you said something like ‘love is scary’. I… I’m just wondering about your word choice.” Your mouth feels dry and you take another sip of coffee. “Was ‘love’ generic, or…specific?”

Ben’s eyes widen for a moment, a tiny flash of panic passing through.

“It was specific.”

You nod. “So…”

He rubs his hands together, one of his nervous ‘tells’. “So, I said ‘love is scary’ because - I love you.” The look in his eyes is cautious but warm, hopeful.

“I love you, Lydia. I love you very much. I hope that’s okay.”

You gently place your hand on top of his, quelling his anxious gesture.

“I love you too, Ben. Very much. So, yeah, that’s okay.”

The two of you burst out laughing for a moment before leaning in for a soft kiss. It felt so normal, so comfortable: both of you still with your bed-heads, dressed in random loungewear, sitting at your dining table in your little apartment, saying you loved each other for the first time.

Ben twines his fingers through yours, smiling. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be able to say those words to you, Lyd.” He blushes a little. “Came close to saying it a few times before.”

You arch an eyebrow exaggeratedly and grin at him. “Oh, really? Well, that makes two of us.”

You lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know we said last night that neither of us had been loved the way we deserved?” He hums and nods in agreement, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Maybe we can try loving each other like that?”

“I’d like that very much, Lyd.” Another kiss, another squeeze of your hand - and, out of nowhere, his tummy rumbles audibly, triggering another fit of giggles.

“Think you and me deserve to have a nice breakfast, too.” He pushes himself back from the table and stands up, still holding your hand. He holds you closely. “And then…”

“And then - we come home and make up for lost time.”

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N: Like many of us, I'm sure, I have spent much of the last week listening back to the work of the extraordinary, late, great Sinéad O'Connor. This song, from her 2014 album I'm Not Bossy, I'm The Boss, leapt out as a perfect fit for Lydia - in general, but especially in this chapter. Rest in power, Sinéad. (And if you haven't yet read her memoir, Rememberings, do it - it's brilliant.)

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