#*i'm* out of their sights...and therefore out of THEIR minds....

[wolfofwinchester]

Got my hands on a book of herbal medicine and you better believe Claudia is having me take note. Will these ever come into play for threads? Maybe, maybe not. Are they fun to have stowed away all the same? Absolutely.

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[echoofadream]

Good boy Choso, mommy reader, smut, lots of cum, a lil bit of fluff at the end

I'm thinking that out of all the jjk men, Choso is the best boy. He looks so adorable, so eager to please you, always wanting to do good for you. I imagine that he'd been a virgin until he found you and when he accidentally called you "mommy" you figured out what you were working with.

Poor boy came two minutes into the make out session and nearly started crying when you saw the mess on his pants, apologizing for being so inexperienced. But how could you be mad at him? Seeing how fast he could cum, how attracted he was to you, how needy your curvy body made him and, considering that he was half curse therefore having an immense amount of stamina, you figured you could cover him in his own cum every night.

He even begged you for more. Your hands, your feet, your mouth, your boobs, every part of your body wrapping around his lonely cock or rubbing it, making his eyes roll in the back of his head at the softness of your skin.

He'd tried masturbating before but was ashamed of it and, after all, he had more important stuff to focus on rather than his own carnal pleasure. But with you, oh with you, he couldn't bear you being away for a couple of hours. He'd start touching himself, face buried in your pillow, or your dirty underwear in his mouth. Coming back home and seeing your side of the bed covered in his fluids was no foreign sight. He felt so good when he was doing it, but as soon as he saw you enter the room and scan the mess he made he would start crying and the only way for the little thing to feel better is with your hand pumping his cock as he's sitting on your lap with your boob in his mouth.

And when you finally allow him to enter your pretty pussy he's over the moon. What was before just daily sessions of him eating you out and fingering you, making mommy feel good since he's such a good boy, touching you just like you instructed, turned into him collapsing on top of you as soon as his tip entered your sloppy cunt. You kissed his pretty face, flushed pink due to the shame he felt for cumming inside you as soon as his sensitive cock made contact with your divine gummy walls that wrapped around him so perfectly and made him lose his mind.

To help the sweet boy, you started riding him, his cum filling you up and sliding down your bodies. Since he was half curse he couldn't impregnate a human, so the two of you went at it raw every day.

He was always so excited to feel you. Teaching his little brother blood manipulation and suddenly remembering his perfect mommy? "Come with me to the bathroom please" he'd whisper and grab your hand, leading you to the closest bathroom where he would simply take off his pants, look at you with pleading eyes and say "please mommy...touch me..." And he was so cute you could never refuse.

He was also so love starved. The two of you would cuddle all the time, sleep together, cook together, walk in the park together. It was lovely. He was such a great partner, always willing to be of service, to make you proud, to make your life easier. He was there for you at all times. He was an emotional man who was not scared to show you his feelings, who never hid behind a fake persona and who cried when he felt like it, knowing you'll comfort him and never think he's less of a man because of it.

You loved him and he loved you and there was nothing more you could wish for.

[ateliersss]

Downtime and a Bath

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Your mate returns from a hunt, in desperate need of a bath. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 1.823 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm not exactly happy with it, nor am I sure if it's even worth publishing, but anyways, here it is. I had an idea three hours ago and wrote the thing in two, therefore the poor quality. But hey, at least it's out of my head.

⇨ Also. thank you to each and everyone of you for letting me reach a 1.000 followers a few weeks ago!

It was nighttime.

Lounging on your nest, you tilted your head back and looked out of the window behind you. Upside down, the twin moons, twinkling stars, and other celestial bodies you couldn’t name were occupying the bottom of your view while the wildlife with its mountains and forests extended across the top of your eyesight.

You sighed at the inky-black sky. Mi’ytiar had told you hours ago his hunting trip would end today and you had hoped it would be at a time you were awake. But according to the moons, the night was already half over and you knew you would soon pass out from exhaustion.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. There was no problem with that, right? You were already lying in such a comfortable position — the cushions underneath you supporting your body just right, the blanket keeping it neither too warm nor too cold, the pillows behind your head cradling it perfectly. You could just close your eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire around your nest. No shame in that.

You were just dozing off, losing the inner battle against the overwhelming fatigue, when you heard a dull thud that was muffled by the closed door that led to the main area of your home.

“Wha…” You mumbled and pushed yourself up with your eyes still half-closed.

Seconds later, the door slid open and revealed the imposing sight of your mate.

So he was finally home. It made you breathe out a happy sigh and a drowsy smile etched itself onto your lips. You felt instantly at ease at having your mate back home and by your side. Not that you ever felt in danger being without him on the grounds of his clan, but you could never know who or what could force its way into your home when Mi’ytiar was gone. However, you doubted that they could make it far to you. Not only did your mate have his loyal warriors who had their eyes on you when he wasn’t able to himself, but the three Hell Hounds outside would rip anyone with bad intentions apart.

You rubbed your eyes until Mi’ytiar became less blurry and you let them wander over his figure, noting the state he was in. He was covered in dirt, grime, and what you hoped wasn’t his blood. As much as off-putting his appearance was, you were pleased to see that he complied with your wish to keep whatever corpse he had kept as a trophy away from your bedroom and instead leave it on the table in the main room.

You were just about to open your mouth when you flinched back at the intensity with which he was stalking towards you, embodying every aspect of his predatory nature, eyeing you like his next prey.

“No, Mi’ytiar. Don’t you dare!” You protested when it became obvious he was about to climb on your nest, dirtying it with whatever disgusting fluids his body was covered in.

But he didn’t listen, his mind hazy with hunger and overcome by the lasting high of his latest kills. Bad Bloods were a nice challenge and he was thrilled when he discovered three of them hunting on a neighboring planet. Their heads were now lying on the sleek black surface of the table outside.

You yelped when his bone-crushing weight settled on top of you, successfully covering your whole body with his, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. You could hear and feel the greedy intake of your scent through his nose. His tongue licked over every inch of your skin nearby as his hands roamed your body, his claws already ripping on the fabric of your nightwear.

You would have spread your legs for him, would have helped him take off your clothing, offering every part of your body for him to take, to devour, if the fact that he was just ruining the materials you had used for your nest wasn’t the only thing on your mind right down. As well as the disgusting stench that overwhelmed your nostrils and made you gag.

You weren’t the most flexible, definitely not now, but you still managed to pull up your knee and push him away from you by placing your foot in the middle of his chest. You knew you wouldn’t have succeeded if not a subconscious part of his mind was still able to obey you even though his logical thinking was clouded with primal need.

Mi’ytiar, though very reluctantly, backed down and sat back on his haunches. His claws dug into his thighs and his chest was heaving with heavy breaths, showing how much strength it required for him to hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but you reek.” You grumbled and eyed him in disdain.

He only growled back.

“Why don’t we take a bath, hm?” You suggested with a head tilt to the door to your right which led to what you would call a bathroom by human standards.

Sliding sideways off the nest, you walked backward, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on him as your fingers fiddled with the knot of your robe, a souvenir you had acquired from one of your trips to Earth.

“Are you coming, tanhì?” You asked him, placing one foot behind the other.

The swishing of the door and the different feeling of the floor covering signaled you had entered the bathroom. The first time you had been inside it when Mi’ytiar had shown you your new home, it reminded you of a cave. Despite the usual futuristic and modern Yautja aesthetic, this room had a natural feeling. It wasn’t unlike the bathroom of the apartment you had lived in with your family decades ago. The necessities had been there. Except for a bathtub. Yautja didn’t necessarily bathe. They swam, yes, but bathe?

You didn’t exactly need a bathtub as you hadn’t used the one you had back then, but after a tiring day, it had been nice to relax in the hot water. Someday you had voiced your displeasure to Mi’ytiar who had scooped you up and taken you to the hot springs not far from the clan grounds but still inside his territory. And although the sight of it was breathtaking — steam rising from the ponds of water arranged like stair steps so the water could run down from one spring to the next like a waterfall — and the surrounding nature was quite romantic, you weren’t exactly comfortable stripping naked where whatever lurking creature could creep up on you.

You didn’t want to complain, of course, and you would eventually adapt to the fact that you had to forego certain human comforts. That didn’t mean you didn’t share how humans lived compared to Yautja with him whenever a difference in their everyday life occurred; be it the bed, clothes, or the bathtub.

Just as you were getting used to bathing in the hot springs, hidden in the rock crevice, you stumbled over the beginnings of what would soon look like a pool when you walked into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It was nestled into the large niche — square, three meters by three meters — of the room opposite the door where the shower-like setup used to be. When you had asked him what this was about, he had only said “Home.” and left it by that.

Standing in front of said pool, you turned your head to look over your shoulder and watched as the door closed behind Mi’ytiar who had just entered the bathroom. You let the robe slide down your shoulders and to the crook of your arms before letting it pool at your feet. When you turned to face him, you revealed the side profile of your body to his eyes, the swell of your breasts, and the small bump your belly was sporting.

When you thought back to your profession on Earth, you looked like any expectant mother in the late stage of her first trimester. Your baby bump wasn’t that big yet, but you still had to give up on certain items of clothing because they already wouldn’t fit you anymore.

When your belly started to grow, you suddenly remembered that your period should have started roughly two weeks ago. The second your brain had fully comprehended that your mate could have possibly impregnated you, that with the highest probability you carried the product of your mutual love under your heart and that you would soon become a mother, you didn’t waste a second to track him down and tell him the big news.

He hadn’t exactly reacted the way you had hoped. Instead of a positive or negative reaction, instead of pressing his forehead to yours while purring or growling at you to get rid of it, he had just stared. He stood frozen in front of you and fixed your hands that cupped the barely noticeable swell of your stomach.

You had just gained a little bit weight, he told himself. She couldn’t be pregnant, she couldn’t carry my pup.

How could you, a human, be able to achieve something where others had failed?

He needed answers, so he hastily but carefully picked you up and took you to Cahrein who only confirmed your suspicion. You were indeed pregnant.

Only after a quick talk with the tribal healer, something about “not possible” and “how”, he finally showed you how he really felt — overjoyed. And how could he not? Now that you were carrying his pup, you were connected to your mate in every possible way.

“Are you coming?” You asked him again, one foot dipped into the warm water.

Mi’ytiar didn’t waste any more time to get rid of his armor, not caring about any damage he may cause as he ripped every piece of it off his body, letting it fall to the ground as he walked to the pool. When he stepped into it, your body was already fully immersed and you swam to where you kept the nourishing oils, sweet-smelling soap, and the washcloth. With everything you needed in hand, you returned to where Mi’ytiar had settled on the bench of the pool. You freed your hands by placing everything on the edge so you could lift yourself up on his lap. Mi’ytiar immediately pulled you closer, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other embracing your bump.

You didn’t talk while you cleaned him up. You stayed quiet, not feeling the necessity to talk, while he relished in your pampering, only voicing how much he enjoyed it with purrs. And when you were done, you snuggled up to him, cheek pressed against his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Mi’ytiar later had to carry you out of the pool, dry you off, and bring you to bed, your sleeping form pressed against his body.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

[taro-bae]

hiiii :3 can u do a can you make a fic with twst characters reacting if reader (fem or gn, idc) fall asleep in their's room? thank u! anon 🌲

Hii, thank you for the request! I'll split it up in year groups!

Twisted Wonderland - First Years

Summary: reacting to you falling asleep in their room

Characters: first years (no ortho)

CW/Notes: gn!reader, fluff, no warnings

Deuce Spade

Deuce walked into his room, coming to a stop when he saw someone lying in his bed. He notices that it's you immediately blushing, unable to move. The hest rising to his cheeks. He walks up to your silhouette carefully, not to wake you up. You are sleeping peacefully, and he doesn't want to disturb you. He's flustered but happy inside that you find his room comfortable enough to sleep in. He sits down on the chair that stands near a desk beside his bed. He quietly observed your face, how how look with your cheek flushed on his pillow. He thinks you look like an angle, that he must protect. He will not wake you up but will stay watching you, his fast heartbeat being the only audible thing in the room.

When you start to stir awake, he perks up, feeling a bit akward because he was staring at you the whole time. "H-hey, you're awake?" He says in a whipser. "Did you sleep alright?" He is still red in the cheeks, the tips of his ears heating up in contrast to his blue hair. "W-why are you in my room?" he asks curiously but doesn't actually mind you being here. You refused to get up still groggy from sleep, he decides to join you. Deuce keeps a respectful distance not to overstep your boundaries or comfort. But when he feels you cuddle into him, he melts. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he is in heaven.

Ace Trappola

Ace is a bit of an asshole. He walked into his room, taking off his jacket when he noticed you asleep. "Oi, what are you doing here?" He's shocked and secretly flustered that you are in his room right now. Ace approaches the bed, throwing the jacket onto his chair as he watches you with crossed arms, I'm his head he is thinking if he should wake you up or not. He waits until he calms down, making sure his blush is free from your sight.

He shakes your shoulder with one hand, "Don't you have your own bed to sleep in..." When you wake up and look at him, he has a subtle pout on his face trying to maintain a smug expression. "Did you miss me that much, huh?" He cannot go without teasing you even for a minute. "Move." He gets on the bed with you, throwing his arms over your shoulder other hand behind his head, trying to keep his cool.

Jack Howl

Jack returns after his track and field training, he's gotta keep that fitness up. His room is surrounded with weights and training equipment, as well as some protein powders. His beastman senses detected you before he opened the door to his room. His ears are perked up on his as his tail wags behind him subtlety. He walks into his room, all sweaty from working out, watching your peacefully sleeping silhouette. He does not want to bother you.

Instead, he let's you sleep seeing how worn out you must be. He leaves you be, going to take a shower and get changed. Don't let his serious demeanour fool you, he's full in his protective guard dog mode. He will watch over you sleeping, noting that you are vulnerable and blissfully unaware of your surroundings currently. Therefore, he must protect you. He is respectful of giving you your space, but if you invite him to join you, his tail will give away exactly how he's feeling. Cuddle him.

Epel Felmier

He walks in, tired from Vils nagging and beauty routines all day, letting out a yawn himself. He stops with a "what the-" when he finds you sleep on his bed. He sees that you are cuddling his poison apple plushie. "Yer really came 'ere?" He says mostly to himself as he approaches closer analysing your sleeping form. In his head he's wondering, "Did studying wear em out that much?"

Sebek Zigvolt

He's conflicted on what he should do. On one side, he wants to he that plushie in your hands. The masculine side of him wants to hold you and protect you from anything that comes your way. He sits down on the bed watching your face. He eventually gives in, lying beside you and holding you in his arms. He wants to feel like a man, and currently, he has the urge to hold you like you're his and his alone.

Might accidentally wake you up. He's loud.

Sebek finishes his day of classes and protecting Malleus. He comes into his room rather late. The only light source is a faint green light above the bed in his room. His initial reaction is defensive, he recognises a human form in his bed and instinctively yells out, "Who dares to be in here?!" Before realising it's actually you. In his head, he thinks, "hmph, i suppose they must be really tired if they chose to slumber here."

Sebek is very dutiful, he'll make it his mission to make sure you get enough sleep and rest well. He will stay on guard while you do, and he will consider it his training exercise. Occasionally, he will observe your face he can't help but feel fascinated and proud that you feel comfortable to fall asleep in his room.

[hoffmansgirl]

supernatural ━╋ father charlie mayhew

★̶̲ a/n. this is short, fluffy & smutty <3 (also new filter woohoo!) warnings. ꗃ blasphemy ･ slight worshipping ･ charlie has a big dick (surprise...) ･ masturbation ･ handjob ･ heavy religious imagery ･ blowjob ･ father charlie & reader being in love <3 wc. 959

"ephesians, 6:12", charlie's voice filled the room, rough and demanding. you lifted your gaze, looking up at him through your lashes while stroking his cock in both of your hands. your mind was empty, but you tried your best to focus ⎯ it was hard when all you could think about was his hot, leaking length just in front of your face.

"i⎯ i'm not sure", you babbled, at which charlie rolled his eyes, irritated. you bit your lip anxiously, stopping the movements of your hands altogether.

"i never told you to stop, angel", he cooed, brushing his thumb against your cheek lovingly. "focus".

it was pure torture; the way your innocent eyes met his, the way your hands moved slowly over his thick, long cock ⎯ the way it casted a shadow on your pretty, angelic face that seemed to glow in the darkness of his office.

"for do we not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rules of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places", you chanted, and charlie's chest swelled with pride. he sent you a sweet smile, nodding slowly, leaning back against the chair. "indeed, my dear", he whispered, and your lashes fluttered at the praise. with a newfound confidence, you swiped your thumb against his angry, leaking tip, earning a low moan from the priest.

"good girl", he cooed, and you moaned softly, putting one of your hands on his thigh, your long nails digging into his skin deliciously. "so good for me, so obedient. you've been made for me, haven't you?".

you nodded, beginning to stroke him faster ⎯ though it wasn't that easy when you only used one hand.

"corinthians, 6:18-20", he raked his fingers through your black, silky hair, and you leaned into his touch, swiping your thumb against his strong thigh soothingly. charlie's muscles tensed under your touch, and his cock twitched when he took in your focused expression. his other big hand replaced your own, as he began to stroke his cock swiftly right in front of your face. charlie melted into the chair, eyes threatening to close, sick satisfaction spreading across his body at the sight of you on your knees for him ⎯ almost worshipping his cock with only your eyes.

"flee from sexual immorality. all other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually sins against his own body", you whispered. your knees dig into the wooden floor painfully when you leaned closer, running your hands across his abs, sighing at the feeling of his muscles clenching under your skin. "do you not know that your body is a temple of the holy spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from god? you are not your own; you were bought at a price. therefore, honor god with your body". you finished, biting your lip when you met his proud gaze.

"tell me how much you love me", charlie demanded, although you could hear a slight desperation in his voice. he slowed down the movement of his hand, his chest heaving with uneven breaths.

"i love you, i love you so much, charlie", you didn't hesitate for a second, pressing soft kisses on the inside of his thigh. your hands travelled up his stomach, tracing the outline of his muscles with your fingertips. the priest groaned, his brows furrowing when he felt your touch and lips on his hot skin. the veins in his arm popped out when he stroked himself, looking deep into your eyes, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

"please, charlie⎯ let me make you feel good. let me worship you", you whispered, sticking your tongue out for him to see. "let me show you how much i love you".

father charlie's hand in your hair tightened, and you whined in pain and pleasure; you met his eyes yet again, lowering your head to press a kiss on his pretty, thick tip.

"god, help me", the priest cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily, at which you smiled softly. encouraged by the sounds leaving his mouth, you swirled your tongue around his tip, dipping it into the slit experimentally. you closed your lips around him, beginning to bob your head, pressing your tongue against the pulsing vein on the underside of his dick.

"you're such an angel. always so good f'me", he praised, bucking his hips into your mouth. a whine left your mouth at his words, as you used your hand to jerk off parts of him you couldn't take in your mouth. "fuck, i love you. i love you so much", he chanted, and you opened your eyes to look up at him, the innocence of your gaze combined with the hollowing of your cheeks on his girthy length ⎯ it was almost too much for the priest to take.

with a groan of your name, his back arched off the chair, spurts of his cum landing on your tongue and in the back of your throat. you continued to bob your head, swallowing around him, moaning at the taste.

when you finally pulled away, charlie fell limp against the chair ⎯ you licked your lips, fighting to catch your breath.

"there is no fear in love. but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.", you whispered softly, getting up from your knees. charlie fixed his pants before pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you lovingly. you leaned back against his chest, feeling safe in his warm embrace. the priest pressed soft kisses all over your face. with a smile, he mumbled: "the one who fears is not made perfect in love".

hoffmansgirl © 2024

nicholas chavez masterlist. | request here ♡

[leviraaaaaa]

In another life?

Levi stared at you from across the room, watching you as you distractedly fumbled with the straps of your gear. He watched as your fingers clumsily attempted to work with the clasp on your thigh properly, only for it to keep slipping out of your grasp, again and again, earning annoyed huffs from you. You were late, you knew. The others in the room had already cleared out, leaving only you as you struggled and Levi as he watched. But the more you tried to hurry, the worse it kept getting, the belts getting all tangled up with each other and you looked like you were about to cry.

He would've left by now as well, if not for you and your misery that made him stick around. It was very unusual to see you this unsettled, specially right before an expedition. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably. Levi felt frustrated only by watching you. Finally, he sighed and stepped forward.

“Call yourself a captain and you can't even tie your gear.” He muttered as he kneeled in front of you. Without letting you protest, he slapped your shaking hands away and took the strap to his own hands.

You were about to argue but when he shot a glare at you. You shut up. Even you knew when to be stubborn and when to be not and the clock that ticked away on the wall was a clear indication of what the choice should be. Therefore, you settled with a quietly mumbled curse but stretched out your leg anyway.

His expert hands worked fluidly, slipping underneath the belt and wrapping it around your shin. He pulled out one end and the leather grasped to your leggings.

“Too tight?”

“No.”

He did the other leg too, finishing the task you'd been struggling with for the past 15 minutes within 10 seconds. When he was done, his hand hesitantly reached up for for the ones at your thighs. He shot a questioning glance up towards you for approval and you nodded. This was no time for proprietary. He went back to work.

“What's on your mind?” He asked, glancing at you with gray eyes when he was done. In them, he had worry.

Everything. You wanted to say when you looked at him. Everything.

But of course you don't.

You shook your head, standing up. Wordlessly, you stepped around him, picking up the the sword sheathes hanging on the wall and adjusted them to your waist.

Levi stood up as well, brushing down his pants. He was about to tell you he didn't buy it. There was something wrong, he could tell, but before he could part his mouth, someone entered.

“Levi—Ah, I see you're here as well.” Erwin's deep voice reaches you as you turned. “Shadis is asking about your absence. We have about 5 minutes until we depart. Is everything okay?” Erwin's blue eyes found you as he asked the last question. Levi didn't fail to notice.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, a little too quickly perhaps. Levi's eyes narrowed. “I'll meet you out, sir.”

You sidestepped Erwin, in a hurry to leave the room. But just before your face disappeared, he caught the sight of absolute despair that was etched on your face.

.

“What's wrong with her?”

Erwin turned around, not surprised to find Levi on his horse, stanidng out of formation and beside him. “Levi.” He said pointedly.

“Don't be an ass, I'm going back in a minute.” He snapped. He knew Erwin knew something. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Hange says she's sick. Threw up in the morning twice apparently. Refused to have breakfast as well.” He shrugged.

Now that he thinks about it, sure, he hadn't seen you down at breakfast hours. He had just assumed you'd gotten in earlier.

Levi looked outraged. “And you're letting her out like that?”

“Levi, really.” Erwin sighed, looking at him. “Since when does she listen to me?”

Levi felt irritated. It was stupid of him not to realize Erwin must have told you to stay in. More stupid of him to not realize you had said no, like the arrogant shit you were.

“Put me near her.” He said suddenly. “Let Eld handle my squad.”

Erwin gave him a strange look. It made Levi self-conscious. “What?” He said defensively. He knew it was strange, fuck, but he couldn't think of another way.

“She can take care of herself." Erwin said. "She's a soldier, she knows what she's getting into. If she thinks she can handle it, why not have a little faith?”

“If she dies out there because she's too fucking stubborn, you'd be the one sorry.”

Erwin looked thoughtful. “Heart getting in the way of your head, Levi?”

Levi felt heat rushing to his cheeks. But Erwin cut him off before he could say anything.

“But yes,” He nodded. “I was going to tell Hange to keep an eye on her. But you don't listen to me either, do you?” He looked at him, the blonde man's piercing blue eyes searing straight through Levi's soul. “Do as you may.”

Do as you may. Levi thought about the words as he turned his horse around. Do as he might— for a friend. If that's what you were.

.

“Are you supposed to be here?” You asked tiredly, glancing at him when his horse stopped beside you.

“No.”

You frowned.

“Last minute change of formation.” Levi lied.

“Erwin didn't tell me.”

“Because he sent me here to tell you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. It was clear you did not believe him, but you didn't say anything else.

And that's how Levi knew there was something definitely, definitely wrong. Anytime else, you would've never let this go easily. You would've pestered him, annoyed him with questions, teased him, made every use of it until you got the answers you were looking for. Then you would argue. Bicker at him to convince you were okay so he left you. You hated the idea of getting help anyways, specially from him.

.

Expedition had started a while ago. Neither you or Levi had exchanged any words since then.

The two of you were on watch duty, perched on a tree as you scanned around for any upcoming titans, the smoke gun ready at your hand. A bland job, unsuited for both of you and very below your skill level. But you weren't complaining and you always complained.

You looked pale. There were bruises under your eyes and your lips were chapped, you looked fragile as a bird, a very exhausted bird.

And it was because Levi was watching you so closely that he noticed the exact moment your eyes lost focus.

The exact moment your muscles went slack and the grip around your swords went loose.

The exact moment your legs crumbled and you dropped forward.

And it was because he was watching you, because in his guts, he was certain there was something wrong and every inch of him was guarded that his body kicked in just the exact moment you tipped and he dived forward, catching you seconds before you crashed onto the ground like a broken ragdoll.

—

You were sitting at a table in the sidelines, watching couples as they swayed in rhythm to the melody of the piano all around the ballroom. You hummed along, tapping your fingers as you took a swig of your drink.

It was a ball hosted with a goal to fund for the scouts. It looked all fancy, but really under those painted and polite faces were twisted thoughts and sly hearts. You could feel the political tension thrumming in the air. And though you never really liked the social expectations to meet when attending these, it was fun to dress up and get a taste of the life of nobles for a night.

Shame that it's your last ever one.

You startled when the dark-haired man appeared beside you and sank down on a chair without a word.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue impatiently, plucking off a glass from the nearby waiter. He swung one of his legs over the other, his irritated face stood out bluntly amongst all the polite smiles and pleasantries. "How long do we have to stay here?"

"Levi." You smiled. He didn't return your smile, or even turned to look at you. He merely frowned, the slight wrinkles around his eyes indicating the foul mood was not at all uncommon for him. "Manners."

"Manners? If Erwin forces me to talk to one more of those stuck up rich bastards—"

"You're the star here. 'Humanity's Strongest' remember?"

"What a joke." He huffed frustratedly. "Don't call me that. It's like I'm a product being advertised to be sold."

"If you put it that way." You shrugged. Raw words, you thought. No false Incase of politeness. He said what he thought, no filters. Always. "The human miracle, the thug from underground that held talent like no other, the one who'd save humankind. Sounds like a pretty tempting investment."

"I will pour this on you I swear."

You giggled.

"Lots of admirers though." You tilted your head to observe the group of young girls huddled in a corner, ogling at him, giggling softly and pointing. Levi shot them a halfhearted, disinterested glance, which only made them squeal louder. He scowled.

"Won't fucking leave me alone." He mumbled.

You smiled, watching him as he fidgeted, fingers holding the wine glass by the strange way you've always seen him, by the rim. He looked out of place. In this grand room filled with colors and vibrance, he was dressed in black. Trousers, shoes, waistcoat, suit—it was all different shades of black. And even his eyes were a shade of gray. It contrasted against the paleness of his skin.

He was beautiful, you thought, watching him from the corner of your eyes. Beautiful. But there was an edge to it. Like the way the sharp edge of a sword glitters in the moonlight. Intimidating. Dangerous. Mesmerizing.

It only ever made you want to steal a closer look, to peer at his heart to see if his soul was as stone made as he appeared.

You've known him for so long, since the first he ever became a scout. Yet here, right now, in the midst of all this grandeur and with him looking like someone straight out of a novel, you felt like a little child. A lovesick little teenager getting her first crush. Not a scout who's killed titans. It always felt like that. With him. It was like hoping for the moon, and you're only just a silly, silly human.

You've known him for so long and you've grown so close, yet now that you look at him, he's never felt further away.

You were only just a girl when it was him.

Levi was cruel, there was no other way to put it. But yet, as you came to realize through the years, the unkind words he threw at your way sometimes, they were only just that. He didn't mean half of it, almost as if he said them only out of habit. He was kind too, you noticed. In the strangest ways. He'd let you pester him all day, make him help you with his work, forcefully make him listen to every gossip you learnt about, rant about your little romance novels, and in turn, sometimes, when you pushed, he'd even share glimpses of your own life.

You think the strangest thing was that about him. That he pretended he didn't care, that he hated listening to you rant but somehow he always remembered the smallest details, some of which even you forgot sometimes. Levi seemed to always notice the day you didn't sleep enough, when you looked too tired, when you felt uncomfortable.He’d remind you to eat, to take care of yourself, to rest.

From a young age, you had learnt to accept that life was always going to be too short for you. That it will never be enough. There will always be something more you'd need. And so you had forced yourself to keep everyone at an arm's length. Fuck around but never, ever fall. Because it'd hurt so much less when the end bell finally rang.

So what were you to do, when your heart starts to beat differently for that one strange, complex man?

You liked the way Levi looked at you. His gaze honest and clear. You liked how straight he was with his words.

It was nice. To be with someone so rudely honest. Because Levi looked at you as if you were you. And it reminded you that this scarcity of life you were given weren't all you were.

You were a living, breathing person.

Levi made you feel alive.

A voice cut you off your thinking. There was a man in front of you, trying to gain your attention. And you smiled politely, rejecting what was probably the dozenth of man who proposed to you for a dance. Levi glanced at the dejected man who walked away sullen.

"Won't you dance?" He suddenly asked, looking at you. "You haven't moved an inch since you've been here. I thought you liked this shit."

You only shook your head.

"Why not? You look like you want to."

You smiled sheepishly. "Not tonight." Not ever.

He sat up straight, finally turning to look at you. He put his glass down, his expression serious. Steel gaze searing through your skin.

"You're resigning." The words were a statement but it was also a question.

You stared at him.

"You didn't tell me." He said accusingly. "I had to find out from fucking Erwin tonight. Why are you resigning?"

There was genuine concern underneath, and that made your heart throb a little.

"Well?" He demanded, the hint of frustration lacing his usually cool, flat voice at the lack of answer.

"Sure you know, Levi." You sighed.

He raised an eyebrow brow inquiringly, looking confused.

"What? Is this because you passed out during the last expedition? You've been a wet rag ever since." He said. " Don't tell me you blame yourself for that and think you're incapable or something."

"I am incapable."

"Bullshit. It was this one time and it's probably because you skipped meals or something. You're better than half the other idiots."

Oh.

You realized suddenly as you met his eyes.

He doesn't know.

Levi doesn't know yet.

No one told him.

Erwin hadn't told him. Your eyes found Erwin's blue ones in a corner of the room. He gave you a slight nod, turning his focus back to the men he was conversing with. He must've thought it would be best if you told him yourself.

You felt despair.

You clasped your fingers, then unclasped it. The room was suddenly so cold. You can't do this.

Levi was still watching at you, waiting, his brows furrowed. He spared a glance at Erwin as well. You couldn't help but think how strange fate was. It pushed rose colored glasses onto you, granting you those soft beautiful moments and convincing you that, this is nice, this is perfect, you can live like this.

Until you're here. Until suddenly the delusions slip out and reality is a far, far tougher enemy to defeat than titans.

How do you tell Levi time was running out?

That fate was a cruel, cruel little thing.

“What's going on?” He said quietly, his shoulders tense. Like he could sense your feelings somehow. There was a subtle sign of panic in him at your silence. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Oh." You muttered tiredly, eyes downcast. He was staring at you, narrowed gray eyes. You looked almost sad, melancholic. "Don't you know?"

"What?" He blinked.

"Levi," You looked up, bracing yourself for the next words. "I'm dying."

Levi choked on his drink.

—

Levi hadn't seen you since then.

He didn't know what happened to you.

You had disappeared the day after, your office cleared of all possessions, and Erwin had only told him you had gone back home. He had no way of contacting you, no way of visiting you, no way of confronting you to ask what the fuck were you talking about. He could hardly focus on his work because that's all he could think about. You looking at him with those eyes, with the saddest face he had ever seen you make. He can't forget the words you said, how you said it. That's all he could think about.

So when he received the letter, your neat, elegant handwriting on the smooth paper surface, he was relieved. And worried. And surprised.

You had wrote only two words.

"Meet me?"

He frowned. Meet you where?

But when he turned to look at the envelope, turning it on his hand to check the sender's address, he froze.

Behind it, was the address of a hospital.

—

Hange was going from corridor to corridor, swooping through room to room to find you as Levi quietly follows. He felt nauseous as he walked. He never liked hospitals. Today, he hated it even more.

It didn't take long. Hange asked a few nurses and they all seemed to know you. Levi registered it numbly, how often you must've come here for everyone to know you by name only. He remembered the times you’d disappear without explanation. Was that for hospital check ups? How long had you been sick and he hadn't realized?

“Ah!” Hange's excited yelp broke him out of his daze. They disappeared behind an open door. “There you are!”

From the other side, he could hear a muffled voice. A voice he knows. He doesn't step in though. His hands are balled into a fist as he squeezed them in his pockets. It didn't feel real. This can't be real. There's no way you're on the other side of that door.

“No, Erwin couldn't come. He's been so busy but Levi—huh, where did Levi go? Wait, let me go and—” Hange's head pops back out. “Shortie, are you being shy? She's looking for you!”

Fuck. Was there still time to leave this fucking place?

But no, Hange knew. They were looking at him with the same excited expression but their eyes had a strange, determined look. You have to do this, they were telling him. For your sake.

So he did. He exhaled sharply and hoped for composure and walked in.

And nothing in this world ever could've prepared him for what he saw.

Just over the few weeks, your eyes had sunken to your face and your cheeks were hollow. And your face was pale, almost as colorless as the white hospital walls. There were wires attached to you, through your wrist, through your nose.

You looked broken.

But your eyes lit up the moment you saw him.

"Hello." You smiled.

And yet somehow, he thought, in the strangest way, you still looked beautiful. Now more than ever. Beautiful in a way that terrified him. It made him feel sick to his stomach. But he couldn’t look away.

He swallowed the dread down.

"You look like shit." He said.

You broke into a smile.

"Sit." You patted across a chair beside you. "Don't worry, I've made them disinfect the room twice. No germs." You reassured him, grinning. You knew him so well.

He said nothing, but silently took a seat

When you beamed up at him and his heart tugged. It took so little to make you happy.

Then you turned back to Hange, the two of you slipping to easy conversation. He doesn't know for how long. He kept his eyes on the floor. To look anywhere but you. He doesn't know when the time passed, but every once a while you would laugh at something Hange said and that's the only time he would feel conscious, your voice bringing him back. That's the only time he spared a glance at you.

You laughed the same. You looked in pain, but you laughed the same.

It went on for a while more, as the two of you chatted, discussing such casual things, none of you addressing him. He was grateful for it, to be ignored. Grateful to not be expected to be included in the conversation. It was hard enough to be here. He's not you or Hange. He couldn't pretend everything's fine and laugh about it.

But he could almost convince himself that everything was fine. Everything was fine. He was in the meeting room in the Scouts headquarters with everyone else and you were fine. Hange was shitting about military police and you were agreeing. Hange was telling you about titans and you were listening. And in this version, you were fine. You weren't here in this small, colorless hospital room, with tubes and needles going through you.

“Right. It's getting late, so I gotta go. I hope you feel better, girlie,” Hange's voice snapped him out of his daze as they pushed back on the chair to get up. He dully notices Hange's choice of words. Feel better. Not get better. “We’ll try to come by when we can. Make sure to drop by when you can as well. C’mon Levi let's go.” They nudged his shoulders. Levi felt relief. He needed some fucking air.

But Levi was only about to stand up when your fingers reached out to wrap around his hand.

“Levi.” You asked him, speaking directly to him for the first time in the hour. “Stay a while?”

He flinched when you touched him. He doesn't meet your eyes. Instead they find Hange's brown ones, who were watching the interaction closely.

“Sure Levi, why don't you accompany her?” They smacked his shoulders casually, but Levi didn't miss the intentional squeeze. “You don't have anything to do today anyway.”

Levi considered rejecting you for a second, considered making up some shitty excuse to escape this room and escape you, but then he looked at your eager expression and he found himself sitting back down. Levi could get low, but even him wouldn't go this low. He couldn't go that cheap. He couldn't be that much of a fucking coward.

“Wonderful.” Hange grinned. “Tell shortie to behave please. He'd been a mess ever since you left.”

“I will.”

Then Hange was gone. Leaving the two of you with each other and a chilling silence.The first confrontation in weeks.

He didn't think this room could get any more fucking suffocating.

He glanced down where your hand touched his. Your wrist looked so slender it was as if he could break it just by wrapping his hand around it. Skin and bones, that's all you were. Fragile.

"I'm glad you came." You whispered.

Levi inhaled sharply. You could tell him to jump off an edge right then and he'd probably do it.

For a long moment, Levi said nothing, just stared at where your hand rested on his wrist. His fingers itched to pull you closer, but he held back. He holds you gently, so gently, like you were made of glass.

Like you were the most precious thing he's ever held in this lifetime and now you were slipping away.

"I don't understand." He said suddenly.

You stayed quiet. You knew what he meant.

He felt angry at you. So fucking pissed. He felt betrayed. It's like everyone knew except him. Erwin knew. Hange knew. He didn't. Then you fucking spring this on him and disappear for weeks. And that wasn’t fair. That wasn't fucking fair.

“You could've told me.”

You looked down, letting out a soft breath. “I didn’t know how.” you admitted. You never wanted to see that look on your face.

Not yet. Even now that you'd told him, you wished you didn't. You wished you had a little more time.

Levi clenched his jaw, casting his eyes to the sterile white floors.

“When?” His voice was rough.

“Always.”

So you'd been sick. From the day you'd arrived. He felt hollow. In Levi's head, he could remember you. He could remember the first he'd seen you. You were dying then and he hadn't known.

After a pause, he spoke again, his voice carefully blank and face expressionless. Silver eyes devoid of all emotions as they looked down at you.

“How long?”

You keep quiet. Not long. You don't tell him that though. After a while, you spoke. “I don't know.” You said. “Days? Weeks? Months? Who knows. I'm not getting better.” You smiled.

He doesn't know what to say to that. How to respond to that.

He doesn't know how to feel.

"You were fine." He said, almost numbly. As if affirming it would make it true.

"No " You shook your head. "No, I wasn't.”

"You were fine. Even weeks ago. You were fine.” He repeated, shaking his head. He knew it was pathetic. He knew it was hopeless. He knew he was just lying to himself because hell, if he's got to accept this shit. He pulled away his hand from you, ignoring the hurt look on your face. “You were fine. You went out on expeditions. You fought titans. You sparred with Miche. You were fucking fine.”

"I'm sorry." You whispered. But he shot a heated glare at you. That wasn't what he was asking.

“The meds stopped working." You shrugged. “It was always going to. Eventually. It's surprising that it even worked for so long.”

Finally, after minutes of agonizing silence, he let out a tired breath. “Leave it to you to find the stupidest way to die.” He muttered.

You smiled weakly. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

So much pain. He was in so much pain, you knew.

Levi doesn't show it, he refused to show it, but fuck, you knew him so well, it hurt. He cared so much. So so much.

You'd seen him hold on to a dead comrade for months. Everyone would forget them, not Levi.

Levi can't let go.

It was his eyes that gave it away. Never had he ever looked at you that way. His eyes seared through your soul like he was searching for an answer. Searching for a way, something to hold onto you with. Like he knew. He knew you were fading away. Like he could feel the emptiness you felt with every breath. In his eyes, you saw the most subtle glimpse of despair.

The more you looked at him, the more you felt vulnerable. Something was breaking inside you at the sight of him. Every bit of desire you'd locked away was strangling your heart.

He was here, with his dark hair falling over his face and the silver gleaming through his half lidded eyes and shit, he was so beautiful. Since the day you met him. You felt so soft when he looked at you. So fragile.

You yearned. So badly. Would it be so wrong?

“Do you think I'm pretty?” You asked him.

Levi was confused, caught completely off-guard. “What?” His asked uncertainly?

“I want to know.”

“You want to know if I think you're pretty?”

“Yes.” You smiled.

“Do you always have to be so unserious?”

“Yes.”

Levi blinked. Then sighed. You and your fucking theatrics. “You’d think someone who's dying would ask smarter questions.” He muttered under his breath.

You held your gaze. You wanted him to answer.

Levi balled his hand to a fist. His fingernails digged into his hand. He knew he couldn't lie. Not when you were looking at him like that.

“...I don't know.” He exhaled softly. “Sure, I guess. You keep a neat face. I suppose you don't look that shitty.”

“Even now?’’ You looked at him pointedly.

He stared at you. You and your sunken cheeks and your fragile hands and your tired eyes. You looked ethereal.

Even now.

“Yes.”

You thought you might cry. It hurt. It hurt more because you knew he was being honest. You could tell from the way he was looking at you. He still saw you in the brightest light.

And that sums up the kind of person Levi is.

You're pretty, Levi. You want to tell him. You're so fucking pretty, did you know that?

You don't though.

But he did look so fucking pretty.

You felt sad suddenly. All those fucking years he chose to be a nonchalant bitch. He chose to act like he doesn't give a fuck. And now that you're here, to the end of your lifeline, now he was gonna look at you like that?

You can't do this.

You thought you could, but no. You overestimated your strength. You thought you could handle this. You thought you were strong enough, strong enough to be with him like this, strong enough to handle the way he was looking at you. But no. You should've never called him here.

You can't do this.

He has to go. For your sake. And for his.

“Levi.”

“What?” It was so unfair, you knew.

“Leave.”

His eyes widened. But you held your gaze.

Levi was startled at the sudden shift of mood, the abrupt turn the conversation took. He stared blankly.

“I want you to leave, Levi. And never come back.”

His mind felt empty. There was something strange in your eyes, a desperation. You were looking at him like you wanted him to understand something. Like you needed him to understand. But he didn't understand. What was happening? Why were you saying that?

“You don��t mean that.” He said flatly, after a stretched pause as he waited for an explanation. He looked as calm as ever, but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

You sighed, turning away and leaning back on your headrest. You refused to look at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He pressed when you didn't respond.

You shook your head.

“I don't want you here anymore.”

“Why?” His voice was so blank but shit, you could just feel the strain underneath.

“I don't want you here anymore.” You repeated, closing your eyes. “I don't want you to see me like this.”

“You don't get to decide that.” He said, his voice harsh and laced, now with an anger as he started to realize where this was going.

“I can actually. I call the nurses. They kick you out.”

“You're being stupid. I can't just—” He sounded frustrated. “I can't just leave you here alone.”

You shook your head again.

“What the fuck? You're the one who brought me here. You're the one who wanted me to stay."

You did, didn't you? What were you thinking? Steadying your expression and masking the absolute heart wrenching pain you were feeling, you looked at him.

“I'm not going to let you do this.” You said calmly. “I'm gonna get worse. And then I'm gonna get worse. More and more. And you're gonna hate it. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself.”

He stared at you with disbelief.

“Let me go, Levi.” You whispered, your voice cracking. “You can't save me. Not this time.”

—

Well, you were a fucking idiot if you thought he was gonna give up just like that.

He wasn't going to leave you like that. In that soul less, lifeless, shitty ass hospital room, tied up to fucking machines and whatnot. He wasn't going to leave you there all alone. You're insane if you thought he was going to.

But he did leave you alone for the two weeks. He's known you too long. You get mad when people doesn't listen to and throw this big pissy rampage and Levi, for one, did not have the mood to deal with that and two, he suspected it would not be good for your health. Another reason is the hospital’s too fucking far from the headquarters. It took so much time or else he would've come earlier. He couldn't focus shit on his work because all he'd been thinking about were you and all he did was wait for another mail where you apologize and take back your words and ask him to come and visit again. You didn't.

He still showed up today, though.

With a bouquet of flowers in his hand. They felt heavy surprisingly. It was sappy as hell and he kept cringing internally everytime he looked at it. Fucking hell, he'd never though this day's come.

He looked up. It looked like it was going to rain today.

Then he braced himself. Knowing the stubborn shit you were, you were bound to throw out a reaction. But he hoped you'd forgotten about it. Hence, also the flowers. Hopefully, they'd be enough to calm you down. But frankly enough, he didn't give a fuck about your stupid reasons. For his own sake, he had to be there. He had to be with you.

So he stepped into the hospital, taking in a deep breath once the sterile scent kicked in.

He retraced his steps the last time he'd been here, taking the steps slowly. When he reached the floor you were on, he set off to the left corridor, trying to remember which room was yours. But he finds it soon enough, the familiar door.

He took a deep breath, the scent of hospitals making him suffocated. He felt nauseous again. He wondered how you looked now. Was he strong enough to do this?

Were you right? Maybe for his sake, he shouldn't be here. His heart pounded so hard against his chest and he couldn't breathe.

Fuck it.

He stepped in. Then halted.

Empty.

Everything was empty.

The shelves. The table. The bed. Every inch of the room sparkled like someone had just cleaned it recently, the scent of disinfectant hanging on the air. The last time he'd been here, there were those weird romance novels you used to like, piled on the table. All of them were gone. The bed was made up, white sheet spread smooth with the corners folded and the pillows fluffed. Like no one had ever laid there.

Like no one had ever been in this room.

“...you're…Captain Levi, aren't you?”

The soft voice startled him. He jolted, turning around to find a young girl looking at him curiously, reddish hair peeking through her blue nurse cap. He recognized her. He'd seen him the last time he was here, she was the one who showed Hange and him to your room. Her hazel eyes softened when he turned around.

“She's told us a lot about you.” She said, explaining.

Levi doesn't talk. He doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe. His hand gripped onto the bouquet harder.

“Has she been moved?” He asked, his voice harsh. He tried to steady it but his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat was rising. “Do you know where she's—”

But she was looking at him sadly, and Levi knew. Levi knew then.

The ground underneath swayed slightly and he found his eyes travelling to the floor. What was he doing here? Why did he come here today? He needs to leave leave leaveleaveleave—

He didn't need to hear the words from her, he already knew. He looked down to his hands, which were shaking slightly. The bouquet was almost haphazard from how tightly he'd been holding them. They felt heavier.

“She said you'd come back.” She told him, looking at him pitifully. “Come with me, please.”

Levi followed her. He didn't know why. He didn't even want to know why. But his head was empty and he could no longer form a thought. He could no longer think, only do what he's asked.

He didn't process where she's leading her, but then they're standing in front of a room. She tells him to wait and goes back in. Levi waited. He doesn't know for how long. Time meant nothing anymore.

She came out a couple seconds later, an envelope in her hand. She holds it out to him.

“She told me to give you this. She asked me to keep it. I told her she should just mail it but she insisted you'd come back.” She let out a soft sigh.

For a second, Levi doesn't do anything.

He stared at the paper in her hand blankly, unable to process it. His eyes hurt from staring, but in the back of his head, he already knew what it was. He should be curious, intrigued. Sad. Something. Anything. He shouldn't be this numb. But he couldn't show a reaction. He felt so tired. He stiffly reached out, taking the letter from her hand

He vaguely registered the elegant scroll of your writing on top of the white surface. To Levi, it said.

The girl looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond. To ask. To react. But when he didn't say anything, she looked almost disappointed.

“That's all, then.” She tells him, giving him a polite nod. “I'm sorry for your loss. I will be heading back now.”

Levi didn't say anything.

It's only when she's walking away, when she's getting further and further, he remembered something.

“Wait.” He called out, his voice hoarse. He has to ask. He needed to ask. He must know.

She stopped, turning back.

He let out a shaky breath. He needed to know. “Do you know when…” He inhaled, his voice was shaking, shit. He steadied it. “When did she…?”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence, she already knows. She looked at him. “Not long.” She answered kindly. “It’s been 3 days.”

3 days. You'd left the world 3 days ago.

“Did it..” He tried to find the right words to say. He remembered how you winced everytime you moved. “...was she in pain? When she passed?”

She shook her head. “No.” She said. “It was peaceful. She had a smile on her face.”

Right. Of course you fucking did.

Barely aware of his own actions, he turned to walk away. He needed to get out of here.

“Actually..” She started again, her voice hesitant, stopping Levi in his tracks. Like she wasn't sure she should say this. “The last word she said…it was your name.”

He can't breathe. “What?”

“‘Levi.’ she said.” The nurse told him with a soft look. “'Levi' was the last thing she said.”

—

Levi,

I knew you'd come back.

You stubborn fucking asshole. You were never going to listen to me in the first place.

Are you angry at me? You are, I know. You have every right to be. I know you're so mad at me right now and probably cursing me, but I couldn't let you be there. I know it's so cruel of me. But believe me, I had no choice. For my sake. For my sake, I couldn't let you be there. I couldn't let you see me die like that.

You have to understand. I was so scared, Levi. So terrified. And the more I looked at you, the more scared I felt.

I didn't want to leave you.

I don't care about rotting in a grave somewhere, Levi. I just didn't want to leave you.

You'd think after knowing from birth that you were going to die soon, you'd learn to not be afraid of it. You'd think being in the scouts, where everyday was a gamble, you'd learn to not be afraid of it. And I did. I swear I did. Death didn't scare me anymore. That's why I did so well in the scouts. You used to call me reckless, but there's no point of being scared for a life you were going to lose either way, was there?

I thought I could do this. I thought I could get over it. I thought I didn't have anything to lose.

But then I met you.

You with your stupid fucking ego and your stupid fucking attitude. You with the stupid hair and you with the stupid face. You with the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.

And it scared me so much. So much. What I felt for you. This constant yearning to be near you. I had so little time. All I ever wanted was to be with you. But I had so little time.

I'm sorry for always annoying the shit out of you. But I had so little time. I had to make the most of it. But as it turned out, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough.

The day the meds stopped working, the day I passed out on that expedition, the day the doctors told me there's nothing they could do anymore, the first thought I had was, “I can't be with Levi anymore.”

Not “I'm gonna die.”

But it was you I thought of.

It's so strange, isn't it? I've spent half a lifetime in hospitals and tied up to machines, having to take dozens of meds everyday just so my organs would keep functioning. I was so tired of it all, all I wanted was for it to end. I waited so eagerly for the day it'd all stop. But now that we're here, I'd do anything, I'd do anything to spend one last day with you. One last hour. One last minute. I'd give up anything to go out on one last expedition with you. Just to hear you call me a ‘suicidal fucking psycho’ again. Just to hear you get mad at me again. Just so you could lecture me. Just so you could smack my head and tell me what a fucking dumbass I am. Just one last time, for you to wrap my wounds with the gentlest hands.

I hope you know you changed everything.

You gave me my life back.

And I will owe it to you for eternity.

I'm rambling, aren't I? I don't know how much longer I have, at best 2-3 days. My lungs are going to shit and I've been tied to a nebulizer the whole week. I can't even hold the pen properly because my hands are shaking so bad and it hurts to even write. But I want to. I want to write. I want to tell you so much stuff, to tell you everything, to tell you anything. Shit, I wish you were here. It hurts to breathe, Levi, and I wish you were here. It always hurt so much less when you were here.

I think I'm going to stop here.

I can't fit a lifetime of unsaid things in one letter, could I?

Tell Hange I love them and tell Erwin, I said thank you. I'd write them letters as well if it didn't hurt so bad, so you're gonna have to relay it for me.

Don't be mean to Hange, okay? You know they love you. Let them take care of you. Let others take care of you. You don't have to be the strongest all the time. It's okay, I swear it is. It's okay to let go. It's okay to be selfish. You're gonna be okay, I promise.

I'm going to write one last thing. It's okay if you get mad at me for this, I deserve it. But I really needed to say this. I really wanted you to know. I'm just sorry it had to be in one shitty letter.

But I need you to forgive me, Levi. I'm sorry that I'm so much of a coward that I never said it to you when I had the time. I'm sorry that this is how I'm letting you know.

I really like you. You have no idea, do you?

You're such an asshole. But you're the most lovable asshole I've ever met.

It wasn't much of a life, but I hope you know that I've loved you with all of it.

If Hange's theory of multiple realities is true, I hope I get to meet you in every one. I hope you're my friend in every one. I hope I get to fall for you in every one.

Matbe I'll see you again. In another life, perhaps?

This time, I would do it right. This time, I wouldn't do this by a stupid letter. This time, I would say the words, true and honest, with every bit of my soul.

I love you, Levi. My heart failed to keep me alive but it never failed to love you.

With the little life I was given, I've loved you with all of it.

Till my last breath.

Sincerely.

P.s. I don't know if you found it, but I've stashed a bunch of those green tea you like in the bottom drawer. Parting gift.

—

Levi stood before a tombstone.

It was gray, like the sky. It was definitely going to rain.

He'd been standing here for a while now, in the cemetery, the letter clutched to his hand, the bouquet still on his other hand. The flowers were all wilted now, but the air still smelled like roses. The grave in front of him was fresh, it was obvious it's barely a couple days old. There was a name etched on the stone, a name he's known for so long. A name he knows so well.

Strangely, it didn't hurt. He didn't feel anything really. There was a strange vacancy in his chest, a voidness where his heart should be. He felt empty, like he lost a part of him somewhere.

He glanced at the letter again. It was wrinkled now, from how hard his fingers been clutching it. He glanced back at the last few sentences and he felt that familiar tug in his chest again.

Levi's head felt empty.

Out of all the ways he'd thought he might lose you, this wasn't one of them.

Out of all the scenarios he had ever imagined where there would come a time he had to lead a life without you being a part of it, this wasn't one of it. This was never one of them. Losing you like this was never one of them.

Being a scout meant there were no tomorrow's. You go out with the expectation of never coming back. And he knew that. Death was reality.

Yet. Wasn't that why he'd always been careful to stick around with you? Always making sure your gear was working, your straps were tightened, your swords were sharpened. Always looking for you first the moment the missions ended. Always the team he'd make Erwin pair him with. Because he thought as long as you were in his sight, as long as he was near enough to see you, you would be okay. He wouldn't let you die. All that for what if this is how it turned out?

Vaguely, he remembered his mother. Here he was again, after years. Nothing changed.

This was the one place his strength meant nothing. Nothing.

Him being humanity's strongest changed nothing.

“Fucking idiot.” He muttered quietly. “Don't even have the guts to say it to my face.”

He swallowed down the bitter taste in the back of his throat. What was he doing? Why was he talking to himself?

He felt angry. Angry at you. Angry because all you needed was to say it. To say it and he would've given up everything. He was angry at himself too. Who was he to condescend you when he was no better himself? When he never had the guts to say it as well?

At least you got to say your piece. Now he'll never get to.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. He felt restless. It was so fucking unfair. So, so fucking unfair. He had so much to say. So much he's never told you.

He never even got to say goodbye.

He sighed. Looked down to the bouquet. Then to his own surprise, he crouched down, laying the flowers gently on the stone surface.

“I hope you like them. They're all dead and shit now but,” He swallowed, his hands shaking.“Parting gift.”

His touch lingered, softly caressing the carvings of your name, tracing the familiar letters. His fingers shook when he reached the deathdate.

Finally, finally, it started to rain. First, a couple drops caressing his face, and then the sky was grieving with him, crashing onto this world and onto him. He was drenched in a second, his hair sticking to his forehead and his clothes sticking to his skin. He stood up, broken from his daze. He stuffed the envelope down the pocket of his jeans and hoped that was enough, but it was already half wet. The one last thing you'd left him and he couldn't even keep it in piece. He was well and truly an idiot.

He spared a glance at the sky. He wondered if it was the rain that made it all seem so black and white. Or maybe you had sucked the color out of this world when you passed.

He sighed. Does it matter anymore?

But he moved anyway, standing up and turning away.

He can't stay here forever.

He has to go back. Go back to the lifeless foul walls of the headquarters and his stuffy office. He had a shit ton of paperwork he needed to get done. He had to handle his squad. He had to prepare for next week's expedition. He had so much to do. So much to do.

He wondered vaguely how he was going to tell this to Hange.

But he continued walking, hands stuffed to his pocket, grabbing onto the letter. He doesn't look back.

Leaving half his heart on the stone where you lied beneathe.

[pantherxrogers]

saddle up - choi san x fem!reader (18+ only)

🤠 pairings: cowboy!san x spoiled fem!reader (roleplay)

🤠 warnings: smut (18+ only), degradation kink, sir kink, explicit language, roleplay, dom!san, captive!reader (roleplay), technically cnc?, not proofread, established relationship

🤠 summary: a little roleplay action with san 🤠

🤠 a/n: cowboy san has not left my mind. therefore this was born. i'm feral for him and i'm not sorry about it! i know it's late but i had to get this out lmao. enjoy!

my masterlist

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

his looming presence makes your heart beat out of your chest.

you feel so small in front of him, which only adds to your arousal. you wiggle in the restraints, black satin ties acting as makeshift rope. the fabric keeps your wrists in place behind your back. san takes in the sight of front of him. your cute little ass perched up on your heels, totally helpless to defend yourself. it makes his cock jump.

"you little city girls are so bratty," he chides, stepping closer to your form. you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you want to lean back into it. but, you know better.

"i'm sorry," you whine, trying to turn your head to get a better look at him. and, he's definitely a sight to behold.

the skimpy black vest looks perfect against his tanned skin. his bare chest is out, each muscle looking solid as ever. in another scenario, you'd run your hands over his abs, admiring the way they shiver beneath your touch. but, you're a little compromised right now.

trailing your eyes down, you let out gasp, his bulge prominent as ever beneath the black fabric. you quickly bite your lip, hoping you didn't do anything to further agitate the rude cowboy.

"didn't anyone ever teach you it isn't polite to stare?" he grunts, firmly gripping your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. the hungry look in his eyes adds to your growing wetness.

"'m sorry, i'm not from here," you mewl, hoping he'll take it easy on you.

"well, i could've guessed that," he smirks, shamelessly checking you out. "we don't get pretty little things like you coming through here very often." you cheeks warm at the praise. you have to bite your lip to stop the bashful smile.

"remember your manners," he commands, raising a bleached eyebrow in your direction.

"thank you, sir."

he lets out a satisfied hum, dropping the hand on your chin.

"looks like i'll have to keep you and teach you some manners."

his warm hand traces along your plump bottom lip. you open your mouth instantly, loving the weight of his thumb on your tongue. you feel hot all over, delighting in the way his eyes dilate as you put on a show for him.

"fuck, such a soft little mouth," he grunts, imagining what it would feel like to slip his cock between those glossy, full lips. you look like a pampered princess on your knees in front of him. expensive lingerie, curls perfectly styled, and flawless makeup. he can't wait to ruin all of it.

he manhandles you, prompting you to let out a surprised squeal. you're facing the headboard again, and you whine before you feel your restraints loosen. with your wrists finally free, you move around to face him fully, excitement spreading over your body.

"unbuckle my belt." your hands are working before he can finish the sentence. he smirks down at your trembling hands, loving your eagerness.

"you gonna be a good girl and suck my dick?" he hums, hard cock springing up when you pull him out of his underwear.

"yes sir," you croon, mouth nearly watering. his cock is perfect. it's thick and hard, and you want nothing more than to feel it stretch your jaw and force down your throat.

"then get to it."

you bring a manicured hand to the base of his cock, guiding it towards your mouth. sticking out your tongue, you look up at him, tapping his tip against it. you finally slide him in, the taste of him making your eyes roll back.

"fuck," he moans, hips messily bucking into your mouth. you gag slightly, not expecting the sudden intrusion. he breaks character for a second, muttering a soft apology. you hum around him, letting him know you're okay. then, he's back in the scene.

"shit, that mouth feels so good." you're taking him in deeper now, still looking up to see the pure ecstasy on his face. his head is thrown back, mouth agape, lost in pleasure.

his cock is so thick your jaw is starting to hurt already. but, it's the best kind of pain. you sink further onto him, eyes burning when your nose touches his neatly trimmed hair.

"oh fuck, keep going," he moans, reaching down to gather your curls in a messy ponytail. you hum your agreement, sending vibrations to his sensitive cock.

"keep still, 'm gonna fuck your mouth," he pants, glancing down at you. he swears his cock gets even harder, obsessed with the way you look with your lips wrapped around him.

his thrusts start out slow, like he wants you to get used to the sensation. you bring a hand up to the back of his thigh, coaxing him to really have his way with you.

"begging for me to fuck your mouth?" he huffs, already picking up the pace. the way you try to nod your head makes him chuckle, the shameless pleasure on your face feeding his ego.

"damn, i didn't know city girls were so fuckin' slutty," he chides, taking in the way your eyes dilate at his words. he picks up the pace again. a shiver runs down his spine, loving the way your throat feels on his tip.

he feels you swallow, fighting your gag reflex. the sensation pushes him over the edge, orgasm washing over him. he pulls back, messily jerking his cock in front of your face. he admires the way his cum paints your face, your surprised little gasp prolonging his orgasm.

"shiiiiiiit, so fuckin' pretty," he moans, stroking himself through the last waves of his orgasm. when he comes down, he smirks at you, still sitting there like his perfect doll. even when you're covered in his cum.

you smirk at him, bringing up a hand to collect his seed. you make a show of sucking it off your fingers, swallowing, and showing him your clean tongue.

"fuck baby, you might actually kill me." you answer him with a giggle, smiling brightly up at him.

"you did such a good job, baby. thank you," you hum, raising up on your heels to drape your arms around his neck.

"is that what you wanted?" he asks you, suddenly feeling shy. when you'd asked him to bring home his performance outfit from the "work" music video, he did it without question. now, he's just hoping he was able to live up to your fantasy.

"yes baby. you were perfect," you coo, pressing a kiss to his nose. "if there's ever a k-drama where they need someone to play the role of 'horny cowboy capturing a spoiled city girl', then i'm making you audition."

his laugh is bashful, cheeks burning with your praise.

"i don't think i can sleep without making you cum though," he grunts, pulling your body closer to his. he's shameless in the way he gropes you, feeling everywhere he can get his hands on.

"b-but, the whole point is for you to use me," you whine, finding it hard to concentrate when he's sucking hickeys into your neck.

"i don't care, baby. need to make you cum," he hums, slowly pushing you towards the center of the bed. you squeal at the sudden movement, a surprised laugh slipping through your lips.

"get ready to saddle up, baby," he smirks, reaching for the black satin ties. you settle into the mattress, ready for the long night ahead of you.

[amelee23]

My hero | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Genre: Married fluff, (a tiny bit of angst)

Word count: 2.400

Requested: yes

Warnings: mention of a stomach bug (very briefly) insecurities (both), self-depricating jokes (both), some marriage difficulties, caring for a child, they're EXTREMELY in love, tooth-rotting fluff

Both you and Chan loved to have your crazy fun, but to a certain limit. A limit you both understood so well, as if it was truly a shared items between your minds. Therefore, after your long awaited wedding ceremony, where tears were shed, dances were danced, cake ended up on the floor and someone's shirt, the bouquet throwing almost knocked someone out, and fortunately no relative started a fight - you both drove peacefully, home. No long flights to Honolulu, no rushing for any 5 star hotel reservation. Just a long, deep sleep.

You awake and instantly chuckle. You barely remember that you basically threw your wedding dress on top of the bedroom door last night instead of finding a hanger. Slept with the door open and all, but you were so exhausted you don't remember even washing your teeth. You turn around gingerly and find your newlywed husband, Chris, to be slightly salivating on the pillow. Nose half shoved inside the fluff, hair every which way and his cute ears poking through, his silver earrings still on. He was a sight to behold, and this sight was truly now yours.

You brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and as you accidently touch his ear he shudders. You procrastinate for a good five minutes, in which you gently pet his hair, and then lean to kiss him on the forehead before you get out of bed.

"No, don't leave." He calls out to you, his voice raspy and his accent thick. You give into the temptation and lay back down next to him.

"Good morning, my husband." You say, and it's so cheesy it makes you giggle.

"Good morning, my wife." He says with a toothy grin. You just married him, and you have a lifetime ahead of you to admire him and love him, and yet you're impatiently urging to jump on him and smother him in kisses for how adorable he looks. Cuteness agression and all.

You decide you won't be eating Chris alive one kiss at the time, and instead you lay your head on his outstretched arm and allow him to wrap the other one around your back, bringing you one breath away from his chocolate eyes admiring you sleepily.

"So, what will be our first important decision taken as husband and wife?" Chris asks you, and you furrow your brows. Does he mean something like deciding to paint the room green or getting a cactus?

"Deciding what to eat for breakfast?" He chuckles at your answer.

"The most important meal of the day! Yeah I think that's a very big decision to make. And as your husband, to showcase my deep trust in you, I allow you to have complete power over this first decision." He speaks so eloquently, you slap him on the arm and he begins to giggle.

"You're just too lazy to help me think!"

"What? Me? Neveeeerr."

"And I'm guessing you also want me to go get said breakfast if you're letting me decide what we eat." Chris pretends to gasp.

"How did you know? See, we're perfect for each other! You can read my mind." He makes that usual tutting noise as he winks at you and you go from adoring him to wanting to shove a pillow in his face. But most marriages are like this, you imagine.

"Fine, I'll do it. Under one condition."

"Anything my wife desires."

"You have to answer why you chose me. Like, as your wife. Why me and not anyone else?"

"Why not?" Chris answers with a laugh and you're reaching for the pillow and he doesn't even try to dodge.

"No but really, why did you?" You try your hardest to not show that this is a real question for you. Not just a joke to put your husband in a tough spot for fun, but an actual curiosity that makes you insecure. And Chan hates it when you're insecure.

"I chose you as my wife." You squint at him in a feeble attempt to understand his words.

"Yeah .... you did, since we just got.... married... But why me?" Chan laughs and flails his arms, probably realizing his words didn't come out very coherently.

"No, I chose you as my wife the entire time. It just took me a very long time to realize it.

When I needed an opinion on a song, for some reason I chose you instead of, y'know, the people who produce music with me. When Seungmin caught that stomach bug and I needed to get him to the hospital, I chose to call you to come with us. When I needed to have a serious conversation with someone, I'd call you up even if I'd be surrounded by 15 close friends in physical range of me. I used to choose you even if it was irrational, even if I was a burden to you-"

"You were never a burden to me, Chris."

"I hope I wasn't." He laughs awkwardly, almost as if embarrassed. "But anyways... Yeah. In the beginning I thought I was just being silly, but then I started to notice what I was doing. When my parents asked me if I've met anyone new, I chose you to talk about. Literally yapped for hours - you should have seen their faces! They knew I was in love way before I did. And when I was tasked with writing a love song...I chose you to write about. And then the next morning I chose to start sending you good morning messages every day. Then when I pictured Valentine's day... There was no other option other than spending it with you. So I chose to ask you out before Valentine's so when the holiday comes I could spoil you. And then I just... Continued to choose you. Over and over again." He finishes with a smile, in contrast to you who started crying many sentences ago. You thought you were done crying after yesterday's ceremony, but Chris is a man full of surprises.

"You even chose me over your career a few times..." You say as more tears escape you, a feeling of guilt washing over you. Although the fact that he sacrificed the thing he cares the most about in this world for your sake should prove his dedication, it also still makes you feel guilty to think about.

"And I'd do it again." He leans closer, wiping the tears off of your face, then taking your hand in his to lay tiny kisses on it. "So you see how I just... Chose you? From the get go? It's like I knew I could rely on you, trust you, love you eternally. From the day we met. So it's not... Anything you said or something specific. I just chose you. All of you. To be mine. All mine." He pulls you into a tight embrace and you feel the way your body wraps around his by instinct. Like you were molded to blend together. "You're mine." He kisses the side of your forehead and butterflies wreck your tummy. "My wife."

"But you could have chosen anyone else..." You still mutter unsurely, but Chris shushes you and pats your head.

"But I didn't. And I won't." He reassures you, rocking you left and right in a calming motion. He truly wishes he would be better at showing you and telling you just how much he loves you, how much he wants you in his life. He could never blame you for having insecurities about yourself, but at the same time he feels although he's failing as a lover if he lets those those thoughts invade your mind. He truly wishes his love could seep into your bones.

"So you don't just want me for my spicy chicken recipe?" You try to joke, to ease the atmosphere, bringing Chan out of his thoughts.

"I mean ... The spicy chicken is included in the package, right?" He continued the joke, but underneath that pearly smile he gave you, Chan was set on making you the happiest wife on earth. Whatever it took.

Even if that meant some arguments, some bumps down the road, and making you uncomfortable with affection and attention until you allowed him to love you well. That was a part of marriage no one warned you about, something you had to figure out along the way - that sometimes you have to make each other uncomfortable in order to grow. Sometimes you have to push some limits to become happier.

And so many years into the future, after the birth of you first son, you pushed a limit that wouldn't even seem humanly possible to Chris. You somehow convinced him to go on tour and leave you alone to care for your son. He was two seconds away from quitting his job and becoming a convenience store worker upon hearing just how many months he'd have to away from you and your four year old son, who needed very much to be around his dad at that age. But you convinced him, reassured him everything was going to be okay in his absence.

"Dada's out there spreading happiness into the world." You whispered to your son, who was sleeping in the same bed as you ever since Chris left on tour.

"Like a superhero?"

"Exactly like a superhero, baby. To every single city he goes, he makes people so happy he saves their lives."

"Dada's so cool." Instead of being able to calm him down to get him to sleep, it seems your son gained energy from the conversation instead. He was now flailing his tiny limbs around.

"Do you wanna watch Dada perform?" There is a video of Chris you have saved up on your phone, from a solo stage he had during a concert where he sang a lullaby. It was the most children friendly performance you had, plus it matched the melodicity of the songs Chris used to sing to you at night to soothe your pregnancy pains.

Your son always falls asleep listening to his father's voice, almost through magic.

When his breathing evened out, you thought it was finally time you kick back and relax with an episode of your favorite show while enjoying some not-so-recommended late night chocolate. As you headed into the hallway, you spotted Chan leaning on the wall and had to glue a hand over your mouth to not scream and wake up your son.

"Chris, you scared the shi- .... heck outta me! What are you doing here?"

"We have a few days off in between stops and I couldn't just sit in a hotel for three days while I was dying to see you two."

"So you're telling me you spent 10 hours on flight, to stay here for one day and then fly back to god knows where?"

"Exactly." He says, face full of dimples and his eyes sparkle in the dark shadows of the hallway.

"You're insane." You laugh quitely.

"No, I'm... a superhero...? That saves lives...? You gotta let me know what you've been telling him, or else he might be disappointed in me when he finds out I can't fly."

"You don't need to fly to be a superhero."

"Oh yeah? Then care to tell me what makes me a superhero?" He flirts with you, gently pushing your hips into the wall behind you as he leans over you. You keep an eye on the door to make sure your son doesn't wake up and walk in to see how big of a flirt his father is. He'll have decades to cringe over it later.

"Remember when I used to feel bad for all the nice things you used to do for me? All the help and the gifts?"

"Mhm." The limits Chris used to push and how they bothered you - they resulted in a lot of friction early on in the marriage.

"And you told me that I need to allow you to make me happy. And since then... I chose to. Just how you chose me to be your wife... I chose to let you make me happy. I chose to allow you to be my hero. It's tricky, because heroes need sleep too ..." You softly caress his cheeks, and even under the dim atmosphere of the hallway you can see the dark bags under his eyes. "and they can't always save the day... but I swear to God you make the world a better place. You make my world a better place. You're my hero."

Chris leans in to kiss you in the same way he did when you were young and unmarried. It's a kiss that burns you, a kiss that makes you feel like a woman. A kiss that made you want to be married. A kiss that teaches you to breathe underwater.

"You call me a superhero when you're literally managing a house, a job, a kid, a long distance relationship, a social life and yourself all at once. And somehow nothing is on fire and you're not losing you mind even when your good for nothing husband doesn't call or text for days."

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" You slap him on the chest, but unfortunately he's not in a joking mood.

"You're the superhero between the two of us, honey. If there's one thing I've learnt along the years it's... That the reason why I chose you as my wife.. the one you were asking me about all those years ago? Maybe there was actually a reason. That you were always stronger than me."

"Me? You're joking, right?"

"Not at all. You're the hero, I'm just trying to be the wind behind your wings. I'm sorry for missing your calls and not video-calling more often, and just.. being gone in general. I've missed you." You decided to drop the subject since Chris seemed too emotional to be coherent. You weren't mad at him for anything, and he surely was undermining himself by calling you the strong one.

Unfortunately, it's not like you would accept the title of hero and he wouldn't accept it either.

The one thing you didn't realize is that you were both superheroes. But it's okay, since your son was onto you a long time ago. He'll protect your secret, and hopefully, also grow into a superhero himself.

©amelee23 do not copy, translate or repost

Check out my ko-fi if you want to consider donating!

✂️ ------------------------------

I'm back bby

Please comment and reblog, a feedback a day keeps a writer's dread at bay!

Soft hours open! Send me your fluff fantasies so we can go delulu together!

[igotanidea]

Boss bitch and a princess: JT x reader

Summary: grumpy and sunshine trope with a little twist :)

***

The sun shining though the windows were quite surprising, if not shocking, occurrence in Gotham. Most of the citizens were used to constant rain, fog and misery surrounding them from every corner of the place. Therefore, the sight of a nice weather, for once was about to make some people content and energetic, finally getting the motivation to do some work and move on in their lifes.

Y/n was not one of those people.

It seemed like everything she did, was thrive in the October like atmosphere. Not because of the charming cosy autumn mood, but because she was cold and ruthless. She didn't give a damn about sun, butterfly, girly dresses and all that feminine stuff. Which obviously didn't mean she was a tomboy. Things like clothes and makeup just didn't took much space in her mind, she was acing them effortlessly and efficiently.

Exactly.

Efficiency.

That was definitely one of her favourite words and most definitely her life motto. Deal with shit, break the obstacles and if you cannot go though the doors, go though a window.

A taskmaster, if you may. A corporate rat. Ambitious, ruthless and unapologetic.

She woke up alone in her bed, just like every morning, immediately starting her routine of a few yoga poses, five minutes of meditation, ten minutes of setting her priorities for the day and getting into the right mindset.

She made herself a healthy breakfast and took a taxi to work.

The second she entered the building, her assistant caught up with her reminding y/n of the daily schedule, meetings, briefings and points on the checklist.

Obviously at the end of the day everything and then some was done. Including reprimanding her subordinates about being lazy and uncompetent.

In a mood she went home.

Opening the door.

"Hi baby." a little hoarse voice came from the kitchen.

"Jason!" she cried out happily, immeditely throwing her bitch boss attitude out the window. "You're back!" in a blink of an eye she was in his arms, kissing all over his face, hugging him and turning into a little ball of fluff, knowing her boyfriend was back.

"Whoa! Easy tiger!" Jason laughed wrapping arms around her waist.

"I was so worried when you weren't here in the morning!" she did not calm down even a notch. "I was thinking that something happened and -"

"I'm almost sure you just went on with your high corporate day and attitude without giving me a second thought, didn't you?" he teased, boping her nose.

"Hey, that's-" she started, his words strking her chords

"True?" he cut her off raising an eyebrow.

"Not fair!"

"But still true?' he pressed further and the roll of her eyes alongside with a pout gave him all the answers he needed. "don't do that or it will stay. would be a shame to waste such a pretty face, princess." he put one finger over her chin and lifter it out so she was forced to look into his eyes.

"You know exactly why I'm blocking it..." she whispered, getting a little nostalgic "I can't--"

"I know, I know. You've said it a million times. Emotions in your line of work are a deathbed." Jason mocked a little, empasising the fact that his beloved girlfriend had a tendency to overreact sometimes.

"It's true! You know it;s true! If any on my employees knew--"

"That you are soft for a guy?"

"That I have feelings!"

"Oh no! Look at you, you;re human and not a robot! How will you live with that?"

"And that's coming from a walking dead." she muttered, crossing arms over her chest and stepping away. "I hate you…"

Not for long though, when he reached for her in a practised move and pressed his lips to her ear.

"No, you don't princess..." his lips ghosted over her temple

"Yes I do...?"

"Really? Do you?" he moved to kiss her neck, softly, but teasingly "Cause the way you shivering right now make me think otherwise."

"Jason--"

"I know, I know... you love me so much my little grumpy." the grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her closer. "You've been lonely and that's the reason for the sourpuss mood, isn't it? Let me make it up to you..." another argument making her melt took a form of running hands all over her back, from the shoulders and down to the rear.

"You know what I like..." she responded with a hint of mischief in her voice.

"that I do..." he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the couch.

***

Half an hour later Y/N was splayed on the couch with the face mask on, hair freshly washed by Jason himself and her legs on his lap, having full control of the remote. In her own belief, this was the greatest torture she could impose on her boyfriend.

Little did she know, that is was his greatest pleasure.

Pampering her in all the million little ways. Using the most mundane, tiniest example of self-care (or rather boyfriend's care) as a way to spend time with her and have multiple excuses to touch and feel her close. Not that he needed excuses, but getting her to agree to this softness was not always easy, given her charcter.

Even that had to be somewhat productive.

But once she did agree?

Hours.

She would be glued to the spot for hours, letting him please her, comb her hair, apply skin care products on her face and body.

Finally sheding her work attitude.

Becoming his princess once more, cause with him - her deeply hidden, secretive sensitive part was safe.

[aayakashii]

Haiii i hope you are doing well !! ^^ can you make a fanfic about possessive and jealous taiga? if youve written it before can you make a part 2? Thank you in advance ^^

I don't know if this is exaaaactly what you wanted but I got possessed by the yandere ghost and wrote this so I hope you like it ( ˊᵕˋ ;)

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Extreme yandere behavior, possessiveness, obsession, blood, injuries, all that insane thing that comes with yanderes and Taiga too tbh.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE BEHAVIOR IRL, this is all fictional please!!!!!!

The switchblade passes swiftly through Taiga's fingers as he toys with it, mind and face blank while his unfocused gaze is locked in your general direction.

He isn't properly looking, but you're there, subconsciously in the forefront of his mind, while he swims in the muddied waters of his memory.

Most days, Taiga doesn't give a shit about his memory. His life is eat, kill, gamble, sleep and repeat repeat repeat repeat. Why should he care? Does anything even matter? His life goes on, aimlessly, static noise ringing in his ears as he drags himself to the inevitable end.

Right now, however, his memory is being a royal pain in the ass.

He aggressively rubs his face with his hands, groaning impatiently, trying to get the information in the depths of his mind.

And you whine, helplessly, afraid of every sudden movement he makes.

Taiga's head snaps at your direction, gaze finally focused.

Ah, yes. Yes.

He had already forgotten why he was even searching for a specific memory, but noticing you, trembling on his torture chair, he remembered.

Taiga gets up from his seat on the foot of his bed and grabs a chair, wood loudly rattling against the marble of his floor before he places it right in front of you.

You weren't even bound, yet you trembled like a little mouse. His chest frustratingly tightens and aches at the sight, so he sits in front of you, mouth agape as he looks at your sweaty face from under his eyelashes.

The switchblade is still on his fidgety hands. He opens and closes it, opens and closes.

You flinch at every little sound it makes. It could make him laugh, if he wasn't so concentrated.

Right now, Taiga thinks of love.

Or rather, he searches his poor memory for any instance of love he might have felt in his life before.

He comes up with faint whispers of something that resembles it, something old and long gone, something pure and pretty, something that felt like large soft hands raking through his hair as he slept peacefully.

But it's wrong. It's not what goes on inside his chest right now. What swirls in his heart is tumultuous. It's loud and destructive like thunder and lightning. It feels like possessive hands wrangling his heart, egging him to do the same with yours.

His instincts tell him to call it love, but he isn't able to compare it to anything else he has ever felt in his young life. Therefore, he doesn't know whether or not this crippling obsession could ever be called love.

Taiga stares at you, silently. Sharp eyes that could cut into your skin and leave you bare open for him to devour like the anomalies he covets.

When he doesn't speak, you swallow hard and loudly, gathering all the courage you have left inside of your body.

"I don't know why you're keeping me here, Taiga... B-but if I did anything that upset you, I apologize." you whisper. You feel like you're trying to bargain for your life with your very own predator.

Taiga leans back on the chair, closing the switchblade for a final time.

"Or... Or if you need my help with something, I can help you. Just please... don't threaten me like this."

"Threaten?" He tilts his head to the side before barking out a loud laughter. "I'm not threatening you."

You furrow your eyebrows in disbelief.

"I didn't even bind you to the chair. Come on. You're all free to move." he says with a smirk.

You make no movement. You're pretty sure he would shoot something (probably you) if you tried to leave, just like he has done plenty of times before when something doesn't go his way.

"I'm trying to understand" he says, opening the palms of his hands before crossing his arms.

"Understand... what?" you ask.

"You. Me. This." he motions to the both of you.

You keep your lips sealed, waiting for him to continue, since you are completely lost on whatever could he mean.

"Say." he leans towards you and licks his lips with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "I think I'm in love with you."

You deadpan and feel your heart dropping down to the confines of your intestines. Your skin gets unbearably cold out of nowhere, with goosebumps painfully pricking your arms.

Taiga laughs loudly once again.

"Look at your face! You should have seen your face! You look so fucking scared!" he says between giggles and, if he wasn't so dangerous, you could close your eyes and imagine him being a normal man who laughs in this boyish way for actual normal reasons.

"I'm not joking though." he adds with a grin before you could even think of relaxing.

"I think I want to keep ya." he murmurs, scratching his chin. "Wanna make sure no one else is gonna try to put their hand on ya, y'know?"

"Taiga-" you begin to plead, but he shushes you.

"Nah, don't even start. Too many assholes 'round here tryna hog your attention. Y'think I didn't notice?" his eyes harden and you purse your lips, preventing any reply from inadvertently leaving your mouth.

He gets up from his chair with a sigh and stretches nonchalantly.

"I was tryna figure things out just now, y'know. Like, 'do I really like you?' and all, but aaahhh..." he scratches his head aggressively, pulling a few strands of his red hair loose. "It makes my head hurt. I don't remember if I ever felt like this before. I don't care though."

He turns on his heel and leans forward, placing his hands on the chair's arms, successfully caging you under his body.

"I like you and I'm gonna keep what I like only for myself, eh? I think that's a good strategy." he murmurs, eyeing every inch of your face with careful attention.

Your bottom lip quivers at his words and he presses his index finger over it.

"Lulu won't care, as long as we don't make much of a mess" he grins maniacally "And I get to play with you alllll by myself. Alllll mine. Only mine. Sounds great to me, hm?"

You blink and tears roll down your cheeks despite how you tried so hard not to shed them. You are too afraid to ask him to let you go, and you are too afraid to stay.

Taiga locked you inside an invisible cage and you're pretty much sure there is no key that could ever set you free.

"Oh, of course." he perks up, as if he remembered something important. "I have to make very clear that you belong to me, don't I? Let me fix that."

Taiga swiftly grabs your left hand and puts your ring finger inside his mouth. And before you can even register whatever he planned to do, he bites down with a force that you were sure could rip your finger off. You scream in agony as his sharp teeth pierce you to the bone and your blood flow into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, humming loudly, eyes rolling at the coppery taste.

Taiga opens his mouth and eyes his work, satisfied, despite the tears that run freely down your face.

That injury was going to leave a scar that would never fade away.

"My turn" he murmurs, unceremoniously pushing his own ring finger inside your mouth. It was his left hand as well.

You stare at him wide-eyed, the pain on your own finger blaring inside your veins. It left your thoughts scrambled and confused, but Taiga isn't patient.

"Bite me." he pushes his finger further inside your mouth and against your teeth.

"Wai–" you try to protest.

"Bite me." he repeats louder, his voice and stare truly threatening. Now you understand why he said he wasn't threatening you before. Because you are pretty sure he is properly threatening you now.

You hesitantly close your lips around his finger and bite him softly. He grunts, still unsatisfied.

"Harder." he demands.

You force yourself to bite down, cringing at the feeling of his skin almost breaking against your teeth.

"Harder." he repeats, now breathlessly. "You have- have to draw blood."

You shut your eyes tightly and bite down with all the strenght you can muster, pushing down the nausea that comes with the warmth of his blood coating your tongue.

Taiga unabashedly moans at the feeling of your teeth breaking his skin and the sight of his very own blood seeping out of your mouth.

He takes out his finger from your lips and admires your work with explicit pleasure.

You weren't going to leave a scar, but he could very well tattoo your little bite marks onto his skin before they faded away.

"Did you swallow the blood?" he asks, sighing as he sees you trembling and wiping your mouth.

You nod weakly, feeling the corners of your vision darken as the pain on your hand finally takes over your whole body.

Before you pass out, you feel Taiga place his forehead against yours.

"Now we're together." he whispers as you go limp against his body.

Taiga observes you as you're unconscious. A sick satisfaction blooms inside his chest as he watches you, now splayed on his bed, the red and inflamed injury on your finger being the proof that you're entirely his from then on.

It doesn't matter if what he feels is love or if it's just sick obsession. You are now tied to him and his boring, depressing days.

As he trudges slowly to his inevitable end, you now walk right beside him.

He silently promises that you won't ever need to die alone. Don't you worry because, now, you can only die with him.

And if that isn't love, then what is?

[endofthelinepal107]

henry winter - praise fucking dionysus

{a secret relationship can only stay so secret when everybody's immersed in a bacchanal. dionysus is the god of debauchery, not secrets.} 11k words

notes: kinda OC henry, henry's a virgin, the twins are NORMAL, no bunny, ngl the original draft of this is even more depraved than this one but i edited it down to make it slightly less alarming (what can i say i'm down bad for henry)

warnings: explicit(!!!) sex scenes, cursing, kinda dom/sub dynamic, mention of ritual sacrifice

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

You arrived home late. There were plenty of excuses you could give. Julian had given you too much work. The book Henry had recommended to you was a slog. It was too warm to take the car. Really, there was only one reason: you were avoiding your friends. Or, more specifically, you were avoiding Henry.

It wasn't his fault.

Over the past few months, you had started to see your friend in another light. It had taken you a while to realise what the feeling was. You weren't always very perceptive about yourself. But, luckily, you had Francis and Richard, who very quickly pulled you aside and demanded to know why you were suddenly head over heels for Henry Marchbanks Winter.

Richard was the least surprised out of the three of you. He'd become friends with you and Henry at the same time, and therefore seen the two of you together in a different light to everyone else. Your other friends wouldn't have noticed how similar you and Henry were, after knowing you both so long. They wouldn't have seen the way that Henry's eyes changed when he looked at you, or how your eyes flitted to meet his when the two of you were in the same room.

It seemed sensible, distancing yourself from Henry for a bit. Maybe if you could spend less time with him, you'd be able to let your feelings fade away. Hopefully, he'd be out of sight, out of mind. So that was the plan you'd gone with. For two weeks, you'd barely seen Henry outside of Greek. If he noticed, he didn't make it obvious.

That was when Francis decided to thwart your plans. He and Richard wanted to see the two of you together. So they organised a spontaneous holiday to Francis' house in the country. The two of you would be forced into the same house for weeks. How could you possibly avoid him?

That was why you were late getting home. Because you knew that they were all waiting in your living room, chatting about the plans for the holiday. Henry's car would be parked in the driveway, behind yours. His keys would probably be in his hand, resting on the table. Everybody would still be in their coats, ready to go.

You slowly pushed open the front door.

"There she is!"

"Finally!"

You smiled tiredly, shuffling into the room. The scene was laid out just as you'd imagined it. The only deviation from your prediction was that Henry was sitting in your chair. Your eyes landed on him, resting on the comfortable seat and then his body in it. His gaze flicked to you, stayed for a moment, then settled on the glass of whisky he was nursing.

Why was he in your seat?

"Everybody okay?" You asked, walking in. There was a brief moment where you hesitated, unsure of what to do with yourself now that your designated seat was taken. Everybody noticed you fumble, glancing helplessly at Henry in your chair. Your eyes didn't meet his, but you knew he was watching you. All you could wonder was why he was doing this. He knew just as well as anyone that the chair was where you sat, every day, every night.

Francis came to your rescue. "Take no notice of him, Y/N," he said lowly, voice smooth. "Got a perfectly good seat for you right," he paused, resting his hand on your wrist and giving you a moment to move away. When you didn't, he pulled you onto his lap. "Here," he finished. His slender arms wound around your waist, head resting on your shoulder. Henry watched in silence from your chair. He and Francis exchanged looks. One was filled with smug satisfaction. The other was perfectly unreadable. Both raised the tension in the room.

"Well, I'm good, thank you," Camilla said loudly, effectively breaking the tension. Most of you looked at her with gratitude. "I can't believe Julian agreed not to give us homework over the vacation."

Charles chuckled. "Well, the request did come from his favourite student."

"He wants us to have a break," Henry shrugged. "We should just be grateful."

Richard nodded. "I'm sure he'll make up for it when we get back anyway. Let's just enjoy it while we can."

"Papen's right," Francis piped up. "We should enjoy it! So let's go enjoy it! Right, Y/N?" He had jumped to his feet by now, clutching your hands in his and pulling you close. When he saw a smile start to creep onto your face, he continued dramatically. "Let's run away to the country! We'll dine on wine and bread! We'll wander the hills under the morning sun! We'll cherish each day and go to sleep with a smile!"

An incredulous snort of laughter left your nostrils as you gripped Francis' hands. "How many drinks have you had, Francis?"

"One," he replied.

Camilla pointed at the stack of margarita glasses on the coffee table. "Five," she corrected dryly. "But I agree with the drunk. We should go now. That way we can spend as much time there as possible."

"Alright. Who's driving?" Charles asked. He stood up, throwing an arm around his sister's shoulders. You suspected it was more for balance than anything else.

Richard stood too. "Who isn't drunk?"

"I'm not."

"I'm not."

Henry's eyes met yours for a moment before you looked away.

"Great," Francis smiled. "Y/N can drive. Henry's driving makes me feel seasick." He walked out of the house. Camilla and Charles followed. Henry stood by the window, sipping his drink while you and Richard cleared up the glasses your friends had left.

Richard’s eyes were on Henry as he spoke to you. "Francis has a plan, you know."

"I guessed so," you nodded. "Are you at liberty to tell me what it is?"

Richard looked towards you. Simultaneously, you saw Henry turn to look at him. "Actually, I sort of want to see if it'll work."

"Fair enough," you shrugged, nudging him with your elbow as you walked past to put the dishes by the sink. "It's not going to, but if it was you or Francis involved, I'd probably do the same."

Henry looked between the two of you blankly. He had no idea what you were talking about. Richard smiled. "I think we all would. We all want to see each other happy, right?"

"I don't think this is the way it's going to happen, though," you reasoned, walking back over. Before he could say anything, you nodded towards the door. "Okay, you go first, I need to lock up." You turned your head towards Henry but didn't quite meet his eyes. "You too, Henry."

Richard hummed, disappearing out of the door. Henry lingered. You went upstairs to grab your luggage. When you came back down, he was setting his glass down by the sink. "I shouldn't have taken your seat," he said suddenly, his low voice loud in the silent house.

"No," you agreed. You were a little too tired to try and please him. "Can I get past you? I need some coffee if I'm going to be driving."

Henry didn't move. "Are you tired?"

"Yeah," you nodded. You were in front of him now. "So...can you move, please?"

He looked at you, dark blue eyes staring you down. You had to look away. "I don't think you should drive. You should sleep."

"I can't sleep in moving vehicles. Thanks, though," you shrugged.

Henry shook his head. "Then you can rest. I'll drive."

"Francis said-"

You caught the end of something flashing across his face. Anger, or jealousy, maybe. "I don't care what Francis said. I'll drive." He walked back over to the table, seizing his keys from the table and marching out of the front door. You followed a few steps behind, watching awkwardly as he ordered everyone out of your car and into his. Francis opened his mouth to protest and was silenced with a surprisingly harsh glare.

"What happened?" Richard whispered in your ear, standing beside you as he waited for everyone to sort themselves out.

You shrugged. "Nothing. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Did you tell him that Francis didn't want him to drive?"

You laughed. "I did. You can try telling him again, if you like. There's a chance you'll end up under the car instead of in it."

"I’ll give it a shot," he decided. "You know how annoying Francis gets when he's feeling sick."

You hummed. "Say it loud, so the others are listening in. Maybe it’ll make him listen." He nodded.

"Henry," he called. The tall man turned around, looking at Richard with a blank expression. "I'll drive. Francis gets sick when you drive." Before Henry could protest, an idea occurred to Richard. "Also, there's not enough seats for all of us."

Henry frowned. "Another one of us driving won't change that."

"Oh," Francis murmured from the passenger seat, smiling over at Richard in understanding. "Henry, there's not enough seats. I'm in the passenger seat. Richard'll be in the driver's seat. Camilla and Charles are in the back. There's only one seat left. You and Y/N still have to get in."

The realisation of what they were saying dawned on Henry before it could dawn on you. Richard saw this and nodded towards you. Francis continued for your benefit as Henry tried to make a decision.

"If you drive, Richard and Y/N'll have to squeeze into that one seat together. There isn’t enough space for them to sit next to each other. Richard would have to sit her on his lap." Francis spoke with a particular relish, knowing just what to say to sway Henry's decision. "If that's okay with you, then sure, drive. But if it's not.."

You finally understood what Richard and Francis were telling Henry. The last bit had been mainly for your benefit, but it still served to push Henry into making a choice. He took a step away from the car, nodding towards Richard.

"Fine." Your eyes widened in surprise. Wait, what? Before you could protest, Henry was sliding into the backseat and looking up at you. His face was shaded in the darkness of the evening. "We should leave now," he said simply. The hidden words rang out clearly in the silence: come and sit on my lap, before this gets worse.

You didn't say anything. There was a long pause as you stared at him. Then, still wordlessly, you ducked into the car. Henry's hands rested on your waist, guiding you to his lap. As soon as your back was resting against the place where the door met the car, his hands fell to his sides. There wasn't much space on his left because of Camilla, so his hand ended up wedged beneath his thigh.

Richard started the car.

--

Richard and Francis' plan had been a clever one. But it had one major oversight: they hadn't considered how awkward you and Henry were. They'd had a certain image in mind when they began. Something romantic, like the two of you holding hands or you leaning your head back against his chest and kissing his jaw. Instead, they got two of the stiffest people ever known to man. Henry was sitting so straight that he looked like he was experiencing rigor mortis. You were so still you looked like you were carved from stone. Both of your eyes were wide and panicked.

But, slowly, the two of you relaxed. There was only so long that muscles could stay so tense and eventually you had no choice but to loosen up. Henry melted into the chair beneath you. The curve of your back slotted into his front. Your head rested against the window. Your eyes met in the glass. Francis noticed the change and switched the radio on, giving the two of you the illusion of privacy.

Henry hummed, getting your attention. Everybody tried really hard to look like they weren't listening. "I apologise if I'm making you uncomfortable," he murmured.

"You're not," you whispered back. You turned your head to look at him. Both of your breath hitched; he was far closer than you had realised. His dark eyes bored into yours as you pressed the back of your head against the window, trying to maximise the few inches of space between his face and yours. "You make a comfortable seat," you joked, trying to alleviate the tension. Charles bit back a chuckle at the look on your face as you realised how inappropriate your remark had sounded.

Henry, with all his bookishness, wasn't well-versed in innuendoes. He didn't pick up on the crudeness of your joke. At least, not before he returned the sentiment. "I'm sure you're a wonderful place to sit too." When you looked completely uncertain, he realised how he sounded. There was a pause as the two of you blinked at each other. Then the corner of your mouth twitched. As the two of you laughed quietly in your little corner of the car, you quickly forgot about the others.

"But, seriously, Henry, you're not making me feel uncomfortable," you promised once you were calmer. He nodded. You could still see a flicker of disbelief hiding behind his eyes. Up this close, it was easier to see through the mask of indifference Henry put up. It still wasn't easy, but he was definitely more readable up close. You could see how unsure he was of where to put his hands and how to look at you when you were so near to him. You could see the fatigued twitch of his right eye and pick out each eyelash.

Your inspecting gaze didn't bother Henry too much. It gave him the opportunity to take a good look at you too. He appreciated every inch of skin, every flutter of your eyelids, every line on your lips. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," you nodded, looking up to his eyes. "You can ask me anything."

Henry felt a little warmed by your simple, genuine words. "Have you been avoiding me?"

He watched indecision flicker over your face. You considered lying to him, preserving his feelings. Then you considered telling him the truth, which you knew he'd like more. "Yeah."

"Will you tell me why?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay," Henry nodded. His eyes drifted to the hedge that was flashing by outside the window as he processed your words. "Will you stop?" You faltered. Henry filled the pause. "I want you to stop."

His words, spoken so matter-of-factly, took you by surprise. You couldn't help but nod. "Fine. I'll stop avoiding you." How could you refuse him? You'd never known Henry to be so upfront about something like that, something emotional.

"Thank you," Henry murmured. You hummed in response. The two of you turned your attention to the window, silently watching the scenery flashing by. Slowly, Henry moved his hands to hover over your lap. "Can I touch you?"

You were careful not to show how much his words affected you. "Sure." His hands rested in your lap. One of his arms shifted to wrap around your middle, fingers grasping the material at your side. Wordlessly, you dropped your hands down to rest with his. Henry turned his hand over, palm-side up. You slipped your hand into it. His fingers closed around yours.

--

By the time you reached the country house, it was early morning. The sky was still dark but the black was starting to melt away, slowly but surely. It took a while to get everyone's stuff in the house. Everyone opted to dump it and sort it out after some rest. You all traipsed upstairs to sort out sleeping arrangements. Francis and Richard's plan began to swing into motion again.

"So, there's six of us and five bedrooms," Charles pointed out superfluously. "Who's sharing?"

Francis chuckled. "I think the better question would be who's not sharing. Me, for one."

"Me," Richard agreed.

"Me," Camilla chimed in.

"Me," Charles nodded.

You blinked, a little too tired to catch on. Henry looked at you, then at the looks on Richard and Francis' faces. He sighed, unamused. "Oh, I see what you're trying to do."

"What? What are they trying to do?" You asked him.

He looked at you again. You could see dark circles beneath his eyes. You couldn't remember if they'd been there forever or just that night. "They're trying to get us to share a room."

"Oh," you nodded. "I don't mean to make things difficult, but I'm too tired to argue. I'm going to sit outside for a little bit." You disappeared down the stairs. They heard the front door open and shut.

Henry turned to glare at the others. Charles raised his hands in surrender. "What? She wasn't upset."

"You shouldn't try to make her uncomfortable," Henry insisted.

Camilla shook her head. "Actually, I think it's a good idea that you and Y/N sleep in the same room. I think she'd be most comfortable with you, out of all of us."

"And we all know you would be plenty comfortable with her," Francis pointed out.

Henry chose to ignore his comment. "Are you sure?" He addressed Camilla. When she nodded, Henry took a step towards the stairs. "Fine." He started to walk down.

Charles couldn't resist calling after him. "We better not wake up and find the two of you fucking on the front porch!"

"Why am I friends with these people?" Henry muttered to himself, opening the front door and slipping out.

You looked up at him from where you sat, perched on the swinging chair. "That bad?"

"Charles said.." Henry trailed off, deciding not to tell you what he had actually said. "He was just being an idiot."

You smiled. "Nothing new there, then." Your eyes flicked up and down his form. "You can come sit down, if you like."

Henry nodded, crossing the deck in a few strides. He sat down beside you. The swinging chair was too big for one person, but it was a little small for two. It was still comfortable. You were grateful to have a little warmth from his body pressed against yours. Henry had expected to feel uneasy being so close to you. However, he found that after sitting in the car with you for so long, he savoured the intimacy.

"Every time we come here," you said, voice clear in the crisp morning air. "I see you come out and sit here. I always thought that you looked peaceful out here. I thought I'd try it."

Henry glanced at you, smiling ever so slightly. "I have trouble sleeping. I wake up early. And when we're in a place like this, I feel like I should take it in. And you're right, it is relaxing."

"Blest who can unconcernedly find hours, days and years slide soft away in health of body, peace of mind. Quiet by day, sound sleep by night; study and easy together mixt, sweet recreation," you recited softly to yourself. You hadn't meant it for Henry's benefit, it had just popped into your head. You'd read it a few days earlier and the conversation made the poem spring to mind.

He looked at you. "Who is that?"

"Alexander Pope," you replied.

Henry hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't know him."

"Well, he's not Homer," you joked.

He smiled slightly sheepishly. "I read other things too."

"Like the Lexicon?" You continued to tease, liking the pink you could see tinting his ears. Henry smiled a little brighter, looking straight ahead. You hoped that this mini-holiday would be full of moments where you got to see him like that. "You know, when I found out about your obsession with Homer, it made perfect sense."

Henry was gazing up at the sky, admiring the soft pinks and oranges as the sun rose. "Mm?"

"It fits you," you nodded. "There were always a few quotes that reminded me of you. Like..." You wracked your brain. "Beauty, terrible beauty. That's just like that time you said beauty was terror."

He looked over at you. "Did I say that?"

"Yeah," you hummed. "To Julian. You really struck a chord in Richard, I think."

Henry nodded, pride swelling in his chest. Not only had he inspired a friend, but his words had stayed ingrained in your head for months. He decided to return your wordy affections in kind. "The Iliad. There's a line: Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. Every time I read that, I think of you. Your nihilism, your philosophical pessimism. And your beauty."

"Fucking hell, Henry," you protested with a bashful laugh. "I recited a poem about grass."

He blinked in surprise, not expecting that reaction. When he saw on your face that it was more genuine than anything else he could have gotten, he smiled. He liked that you were being more open with him. He'd seen you like that with Richard and Henry, even Charles and Camilla sometimes. But you and Henry had never really been as vulnerable with each other as you were in that moment.

"You can try again, if you'd like," he offered.

You looked at him, nodding and thinking. "Okay. Give me a moment." You thought. "Okay. Some Shakespeare for you, since I can't remember any more Homer." Henry nodded, turning to face you expectantly. You cleared your throat dramatically, winking at him in your awkwardness. A smile settled on his lips. "Shy love, I think of you as the morning air brushes the window pane. And how much time of all it takes to know the movement of your arm, the steps you take, the curves along your head, your ears, your hair. For all of this, each hand, each finger, each lip, each breath, each sigh, each word and sound of voice or tongue, I would require an age to contemplate. But for your heart: your mind, your thoughts. All these, to love them all, I need at least five centuries."

It was only once you were finished that you realised you had repeatedly said 'love' throughout your recital of the sonnet. You had just thought of the words you could think of that best described how you felt about Henry. You hadn't stopped to consider how strong those feelings were, especially when translated into poetry.

Henry was almost as surprised as you. It completely shocked him that someone could feel that way about him, even if you didn't feel as strongly as the poetry made it sound. But he found it very predictable that you would accidentally reveal the secrets of your heart by reciting a bit of poetry. He hadn't made quite the same fumble, always expert in his choice of quotation. But then he'd explained himself and had thoughtlessly called you beautiful.

"Get a room!"

The two of you peered upwards. All four of your friends were hanging out of the window above you. Francis, Richard and Camilla were trying desperately not to laugh. Charles looked a little drunk and was grinning down at the two of you.

"Honestly, your lovesick poetry's making me feel ill!"

You rolled your eyes. "No, Charles, that's the alcohol poisoning." Everybody laughed, including Henry, who chuckled at your retort. He waved them off and they all disappeared back inside. "I think I'm going to go in now," you informed Henry, slowly standing up.

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

You shook your head, holding a hand out to him. "Not at all." Henry accepted, grasping your hand firmly in his as he stood up. The two of you walked inside, hands naturally falling away from each other’s. When you figured out which bedroom had been left to the two of you, you let out a sigh of relief. Your friends had the decency to give you the master bedroom, with the largest double bed.

"I thought they'd give us the single," Henry admitted, peering out of the window before drawing the curtains.

You hummed in agreement as you sat on the edge of the bed to take off your shoes. "Same. I'm glad, though."

"Will it bother you to sleep with me?" He asked, sitting beside you. You looked at him, but he was bending over to unlace his shoes. "I can come up later to get some sleep."

You shook your head. "No, you don't need to do that. I'm fine with it. If you're not, I'll go down. We won't be on top of each other, anyway." 

Henry just shook his head. He stood up again to take off his blazer, folding it over the wardrobe door. You pulled your jumper over your head before lying down. Henry turned around, adjusting his suspenders before lying down beside you.

--

"I can't believe it worked that well," Richard whispered.

Camilla hummed. "They just needed a push. Someone to tell them it was okay."

"I feel like we should give them the room," Charles chuckled.

You kept your eyes closed as you listened to your friends talking. You guessed they'd come to check on you and Henry and found you in your current position. You didn't blame them for gawking. The two of you had migrated to the middle of the bed. Henry was spooning you, his front pressed to your back. His long legs were tucked under yours, pushing you closer to him. His arms were wrapped around your body. Your hands were gripping onto his forearms.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked suddenly. His voice was deep and low, nowhere near its usual volume.

Richard let out a gasp of surprise while Francis answered. "Looking at a changed man, it looks like."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He pointed out.

Charles shook his head. "Don't pretend you haven't been pining over her for months, Henry. Dishonesty doesn't suit you."

The room was silent for a few seconds. Then Henry spoke. "Don't wake her up."

"Why?" Francis asked smugly.

Henry sighed. "Because she's exhausted. Just like everyone else. I'm just trying to keep my friend healthy."

"Uh huh," the red-head chuckled. "You're not convincing anyone, Henry."

You could feel Henry's muscles tensing behind you as he tried to keep his composure. He just wanted to shout at them all to leave the two of you alone. He wanted to be able to relish in your closeness for a while longer. They were ruining it.

"Let's go," Camilla interjected. Everyone shuffled out, Charles and Francis complaining the whole way down the stairs.

You waited a minute before humming. "Hey."

"Did they wake you up?" Henry asked, voice already a little angry.

You shook your head. "I woke up just before they came in. I didn't want to make things worse by speaking up." 

He nodded. It occurred to him that you were both awake, yet you were still pressed against him. "Would you like me to move?"

"No." The response was too quick, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Especially not when Henry's arms tensed a little, pulling you even closer. "When did this happen?" You asked, referring to your position.

Henry hummed. "I don't know. In our sleep, I think."

"It's nice," you admitted.

He smiled at the back of your head. "It is. I like being close to you." He regretted the overly-honest words immediately after he'd said them.

Before he could take them back, you answered him with a smile. "I like being close to you. Can we stay like this for a while longer? Or do you want to go down?"

"I want to stay here," Henry replied.

The two of you laid in comfortable silence for a while. You cleared your throat. "Do you mind if I take off some clothes? I'm getting all twisted in the fabric."

"Take off whatever you like," he shook his head. "I might take something off in a while." 

You nodded, detaching yourself from him and standing up beside the bed. Henry watched you step out of your pants, letting them fall to the ground. You didn't notice his piercing gaze until you lifted your hands to unbutton your shirt, eyes falling to meet his at the same time. Henry winced internally when your fingers faltered. You looked at each other in silence. Then you just continued as if nothing had happened. Henry cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling instead of at your body. Still, the curves of your figure were ingrained on the backs of his eyelids every time he blinked.

By the time you laid back down on the bed, clad only in your underwear, Henry was decently flustered. You moved back into the same position. When Henry made no move to lie against you, you turned onto your other side to look at him.

"Henry?" You questioned. He hummed, not looking at you. Your eyes narrowed. "Everything okay?" He just nodded stiffly. Your eyes scanned his body for any indication as to what had suddenly changed. "Henry-oh."

His eyes widened and flicked to yours. Your eyes were fixed to the sizeable tent quickly forming in his pants. Henry's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He blinked at you in complete horror. Your eyes flicked between his face and his crotch. You drew in a deep breath, reminding yourself not to freak out. Henry already looked like he was about to pass out.

"Okay," you began gently. "Do you want to go into the bathroom and take care of yourself? We have the en suite."

He was still staring at you. "Take care of myself?"

"Yeah," you nodded. His expression was blank. "You know, uh.." Hundreds of different phrases danced along your tongue. You couldn't decide which one was appropriate for someone like Henry. You settled on a completely blunt one, since he seemed so clueless as to what you were telling him. "Do you want to go fuck yourself in the bathroom?"

A rose flush spread across his cheeks, unlike anything you'd ever seen on Henry before. "I..." He gulped, looking away from you. "I can't. I can't do that."

"You can't.." You frowned at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Henry squeezed his eyes shut, looking far more vulnerable than you had ever seen the stoic before. "It disconcerts me. I can't do it. I've never been able to do it." He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I know it's…strange. But I can't."

"It's not that strange," you assured him.

He shook his head. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," you shook your head. You moved closer to him in your eagerness. "It happens to plenty of people. It's not that weird."

Henry nodded. "That's a small comfort, then." He looked even more troubled. You only realised why when you felt his arm twitch beneath your fingers. Looking down, you saw that you had grabbed onto his arm as you'd been speaking. You quickly withdrew your hand. Henry glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "What should I do?"

"I don't know," you shook your head. "If you can't… do that, I guess you just have to wait for it to go away on its own?"

He nodded slowly. "I can... I can do that."

"Okay," you nodded. "I'm going to lie down. I'll face away so you don't feel... observed." 

Henry just nodded again, watching as you turned back over. You stared at the sheet in front of you, imagining him lying beside you. Up until that moment, when you'd thought about Henry in sexual situations, he'd always been pretty vanilla. But with him lying behind you, willing away a boner you were almost certain had happened because he'd watched you undress, your views had changed. You were beginning to see Henry in a new light, only furthered by the information about his never masturbating. Your mind slipped into daydreams of teaching him a few things right there and then, suspenders and all.

Henry's low voice pulled you from your reverie. "It's not working."

"Why?"

He turned his head to look at you, taking in the soft slope of your waist and the roundness of your ass in the simple panties. "Because I keep looking at you. And you're all I see when I close my eyes."

"Oh," you murmured, pleasantly surprised by his admission. You weighed up your options. You took Henry's apparent inexperience and naivety into consideration. Then you hummed. "You can cuddle me still, if you'd like."

Henry blinked, pushing himself up onto one elbow. "Are you sure?" He really hadn't expected you to say that.

"I told you," you shrugged. "I like having your body against mine." Both of you were aware that neither of you had said those exact words. But it was still true. Henry turned onto his side, hesitantly shuffling closer. His chest brushed yours, but he angled his hips so that they didn't make contact with you. "Henry," you said, voice low. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest. "Come on. Do it properly." He moved quickly, arms sliding over and under your body. He pulled you against him. Your ass pushed against his hard-on. "Isn't this more comfortable?"

Henry swallowed. "Not the word I'd use."

"Which word would you use?"

He thought. "Arousing?"

"Why is this arousing?" You questioned. The lilt in your voice made it clear that you were fully aware of why being pressed against you with his cock already hard was arousing to Henry.

He found himself answering anyway. "You're touching me."

"Women touching you is arousing?"

Henry shook his head. "No. You touching me is arousing."

"Oh," you hummed, smiling slightly. "You can come closer, you know." Henry looked down at the minimal space between you. Then he realised what you were implying. He tightened his hold around your waist, bucking his hips up into yours. His cock nestled between your plush ass. Henry's breath stuttered slightly. You leaned your head back so that you could see him. He looked down at you. You flashed him a smile. "Are you a virgin, then?"

He blinked. "I... Yeah."

"Oh," you hummed, frowning to yourself.

Henry panicked a little, worried that whatever was happening was about to stop because of your new insight. "Why?"

"I just always assumed otherwise, I guess," you shrugged. "I figured you'd be the kind to have sensual weekend-relationships all the time. Probably with men, like the Greeks did."

He shook his head. "You thought wrong."

"Very wrong, it seems," you smiled again. Henry got the feeling that you were getting some amusement at his expense. He didn't care in the slightest. "Have you really never had anyone?"

Henry shook his head again. "I'm not exactly the romantic type."

"Aren't you?" You frowned. "I think you are. I mean, over the past few months, you've turned up at my house with flowers, you've taken me out to dinner and lunch, you've walked with me, you've studied with me. Henry, you could be very romantic if you wanted to be."

He blushed slightly. "I didn't realise I was doing all of those things romantically until recently."

"What?" You blinked.

Henry frowned. "Is that not what you were implying? That you knew I was trying to- well."

"I didn't realise that at all," you shook your head. "Is that what you were doing?" He nodded. "Oh. Well, thank you, then. Does that mean this," you gestured between the two of you. "Can continue?"

He nodded slowly. "I thought you would be put off by my inexperience."

"Actually, I think it's making me want you more," you mused. "My neck's hurting, sorry." You tilted your head back to its natural position. Henry hesitated before resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled. "Comfy?"

He hummed. "More than I was before."

"Does it hurt?" You asked.

Henry frowned. "What?"

"Your cock."

He choked on air, surprised by your bluntness. Henry was used to hearing you make crude comments and lewd jokes all the time, but they were never addressed to him. When he recovered, he answered you. "Yeah, it does. I'm used to it, though." You nodded. You'd forgotten that Henry must have had years of dealing with blue balls.

"You can use me a little, if you'd like," you suggested.

Henry processed your offer. "I don't know how to do that."

"Do you want to?" You asked. He nodded. "Okay. I'll guide you through it, okay?" He nodded again. "Have you got a good grip on me? You don't want me to move around the bed." Henry's arms tightened around you. "And now you just... move against me. Say when you need something more."

Henry moved slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that felt good. His hips slid against your ass, cock dragging against your panties. He was still fully clothed so there was plenty of friction. It also meant that he had to press himself against you a lot harder to feel all of the sensations. Henry gripped you even tighter, using his grip on you as momentum to drag himself over you repeatedly. Wetness pooled in your panties as you felt him moving against you. His grip was tight, nearly bruising in his earnestness. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, eyes falling closed. You focused on the soft pants Henry was letting out. After a minute, he faltered.

"Can... Can I have more?" He asked in a hushed voice, as though he was asking something incredibly wrong.

You smiled to yourself at the timid question. "Of course you can." You decided to ease him into the more submissive role. "Say please."

"Please," he repeated without hesitation. He didn't seem to have really noticed your request.

You rolled over onto your front in his grip. "Move above me," you told him. He did as you asked, leaning all of his weight on his arms, pressing into the pillow either side of your head. You looked him over, smiling at the sweat starting to seep through his shirt and the heavy rising and falling of his chest. You lifted your right thigh. "Put your legs on either side." Henry followed your instructions. You dropped your leg. "Hump, Henry," you murmured.

His blue eyes were blackened with lust as he blinked up at you. He looked genuinely surprised by your words. But his legs still dropped down onto the mattress. He rocked his hips against your leg.

"No," you said firmly. He stopped immediately, looking at you again. "I didn't say grind. I said hump." Henry swallowed, nodding slowly.

He looked over your body. "Can I touch you?"

"Mhm."

His hands found your waist, flexing around your hips. When he was satisfied, he dragged his crotch up your leg, then back down again. His lips parted in pleasure. "Oh."

"Good?" You hummed. He nodded. You cleared your throat. "Henry."

He started to move faster. "Y-Yeah, it feels good."

"What feels good about it?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he shifted slightly to the left. The tension disappeared from his face when he found the angle he was looking for. "Your leg. It feels good against my.." He trailed off, unsure of which word to use. It wasn't like Henry to swear, or to talk dirty. You wanted to urge him to do it, to try and flick a switch inside of him. But then you also liked the idea of him shying away from it still.

"Say it," you whispered.

Henry let out a gasp, jaw going slack. His movements were starting to falter. "You feel good against my c-cock."

"Good boy," you praised, feeling a jolt of satisfaction when his cheeks flamed red and his eyes sparkled. "Get off, before you cum."

He sat back on his knees, looking at you in confusion. "Did I do something wrong?" The lost puppy look was surprisingly fitting on his face, a nice contrast to the hubris he usually exuded.

"No," you smiled. "I just want to draw it out. I don't want this to end so soon. Is that okay?" Henry nodded quickly, still amazed this was something you were offering him. "Are you going to keep doing what I tell you, then?"

Henry nodded again. "Anything." From the way he was looking at you, like you were Helen of Troy herself, you knew he was telling the truth.

"Stand up, then," you told him. He did as you asked. You moved to your feet too, padding around the bed to stand in front of him. Henry towered above you, but his head hung to look at you and his eyes showed only awe. It felt like you were bigger than him, not the other way around. "Look at you," you murmured. "Can see the precum on your trousers."

Henry looked down in confusion, shocked to see that there really was a wet patch spreading on the grey fabric of his pants. "I only brought one pair."

"Really?" You smiled, looking back up at him. "We better get you out of them before you make more of a mess, hm?" Henry nodded. Your hands fell to his crotch, ghosting over his hard length. You paused to rid him of his shirt, folding it roughly and throwing it on the bed. You smiled at him warmly. "Have you kissed before?"

Henry shook his head. "No."

"What do you think about it?" Your fingers worked at the button on his trousers as you spoke. You could feel him pulsing beneath your fingertips.

He watched you with bated breath. "I don't think I want someone's tongue in my mouth."

"Do you want someone's tongue anywhere?" You asked.

He nodded. "Anywhere else. E-Everywhere else. And teeth, too." You hummed with interest, storing away everything he was telling you. You pulled his trousers down his legs, falling into a squat as you pulled them from his feet. You couldn't help eyeing his cock as it sprang up in your face. He looked big.

You rose to your feet, looking at him again. One of your hands splayed across the back of his neck. You pulled him down a few inches to meet you, nudging his nose with yours. Henry's eyes fluttered shut. You closed yours too, closing the small space between you. His lips weren't too warm, a little chapped from his heavy breathing earlier. He was a sweet kisser, as you'd expected. Your lips parted and you smiled at him gently. The two of you kissed slowly, like you had all the time in the world. His mouth was a little clumsy against yours and it took your lead for him to lose that characteristic stiffness.

"Pick up your trousers." It took Henry a minute to register your request. When he did, he quickly turned around to find them, picking them up and looking at you again. "Fold them and put them by the basket, I know you want to." He smiled slightly, nodding his head and doing as you'd said. He had been wanting to sort them since they fell to the ground around his ankles.

He turned to you when he was done. "What now?"

"We're going to make Henry Winter cum," you smiled, stepping closer to him. Your chest pressed against his. Henry glanced down at your breasts, then back to your face.

He looked incredibly nervous as he asked, "Can I touch you there?"

"Not now," you shook your head. "Next time, if you want a next time."

Henry nodded rapidly. "I do."

"Next time, then." Your hands slid down over his surprisingly toned torso to his briefs. Your eyes bored into his as you slid a hand over his cock. Henry's breath hitched in his throat as you took a firm hold of him. This felt completely different to all of the times he'd tried to relieve himself, before he'd given up on sexual pleasure completely. You started to palm his erection, still staring at him, watching his reactions carefully.

When you heard the beginnings of a proper moan rumble at the back of his throat, you took your hand away. Roughly shoving his underwear down to his knees, you pressed your hands into Henry's chest and pushed him backwards. He stumbled until his back made contact with the wall. You tilted your head to press a searing kiss to his lips.

"Wrap your hand around mine," you told him, pressing your chest against his firmly. "And look at me." He did both things, looking down at you as his chest heaved. His hand fixed to the back of yours.

You slid your hand down his body again, this time without underwear obstructing your access to his cock. Your fingers brushed over him with a featherlight touch before you took him into your fist. Henry's hand squeezed yours painfully hard and didn't relent. You didn't mind. You started to pump your hand around him, adjusting your ministrations when he had a slightly different reaction. He started to let out soft sounds, more audible than his pants.

"Sweetheart," you whispered. "I want to hear you."

He swallowed what sounded almost like a whine. "O-Okay. Please.." Henry trailed off.

"What?" You asked.

He let out a moan, hips bucking into your hand. Your free hand pushed his hip back against the wall. "Sweetheart. Will you call me that again? Or something like that. Please."

"Yeah," you nodded. "Don't move unless I tell you it's fine, okay, baby?"

Henry let out a breathy moan. "Y-Yeah." His mouth hung ajar as he looked down at you. He caught his breath enough to let you know where he was. "I'm going to-to-"

"Say my name," you murmured. "Say my name when you cum, honey."

His head lolled forwards, forehead pressing against yours. You opened your mouth slightly, inhaling every one of his breathy moans. "O-Oh.." He looked completely debauched, barely able to keep his eyes open as you gave him his first orgasm. Henry let out a cry, muscles tensing and his whole body shuddering. "Y-Y/N!"

"There it is," you hummed. "Good boy, Henry. Let go." His cum spurted across your hand in hot ropes. His body continued to shudder against yours as you supported his weight. He was as heavy as you had guessed he would be and it was quite an effort to hold him steady until he came to his senses. When he did, he swallowed, tongue darting out across his lips. His dark eyes fluttered open and he gazed at you for a moment, looking stunned. Your eyes flicked between his. A small smile crept over his hard line of a mouth and he opened his mouth to say something. Then he stopped, face falling.

"Henry?" You frowned.

He staggered forwards, catching you off guard. You barely had time to catch him. "I've got a headache," he muttered, clutching onto you for balance. His eyes squeezed shut.

"Is it my fault?" You worried, helping him to the bed. His briefs were still around his ankles, so you leaned down and pulled them all the way off.

Henry shook his head. "No, I could feel it coming on anyway."

"What can I do?" You asked.

He gestured weakly towards the window. "Pull the curtains all the way, please. I think I'll just sleep a bit more."

"Okay," you nodded, doing as he asked. When you turned back around, he was laying in bed. You pulled the duvet above his waist, giving him some semblance of dignity in case someone walked in. "Do you have medication?"

He nodded. "In my suitcase." That was downstairs still. You moved around, getting dressed as quietly as you could. After a quick trip to the bathroom to make sure that you didn't look like you'd been doing anything sexual, you grabbed Henry's stained pants and wandered downstairs.

You'd hoped to be able to do what you needed to without being noticed, but Richard and Francis were sitting in the kitchen. They looked up as you walked into the room. Both grinned, but Francis was the one that spoke. "How's Henry? Bedridden from pleasure?"

"Bedridden," you nodded. "He's got one of his headaches."

Richard winced, remembering the one time he'd walked into Henry in the middle of one of his headaches. "I hope he's alright."

"Me too," you agreed. You picked up his suitcase, putting it down on the counter. As you opened it, you put the trousers down beside it. You found the medication. While you were pouring out a glass of water, Francis leaned forwards and inspected the trousers. He spluttered when he found the stain in the crotch, genuinely struggling to wrap his head around what he was seeing. You turned, sighing and snatching it from his hands.

Francis stared at you in disbelief. "What are you doing, washing Henry's trousers?"

"He only brought one pair," you replied, taking them over to the sink and rubbing away the stain. "Honestly, Francis, you're very childish sometimes."

Richard smiled. "Did you two..?"

"We're talking about Henry, Richard," you pointed out, hoping that you could get out of the situation without lying.

You were halfway up the stairs when Francis called after you, "You totally did!" You smiled, shaking your head as you slipped back into the bedroom.

"Henry?" You asked. He grunted, lifting a hand in acknowledgement. You hung the trousers over the radiator to dry out. Then you sat beside him on the bed. "Oh, love," you cooed, seeing the sweat beading on his brow. "You don't look too well."

He shook his head. "It's not as bad as usual."

"I got you your medicine," you informed him. 

Henry tried to lift his head, wincing in pain. You shuffled closer, on your knees. You rested a hand behind his head. Henry didn't speak as he opened his mouth. You gave him the pill, then helped him sip the water. He leaned back down, catching your hand in his. You brought your other hand up to brush over his forehead, absently smoothing away his forehead creases.

The two of you sat there for a while before Richard walked in. You looked up at him, mouth falling open in dismay. This felt somehow worse than if you'd been caught earlier. Henry, who you'd thought was asleep, spoke. "What, Papen?"

"Francis wants..." Richard looked between the two of you again before taking a step back. "I'll tell him that you're busy."

You smiled when you saw the genuine smile on his face. He was happy that the two of you were happy. "Thank you, Richard." You nudged Henry.

"Thank you," he muttered, sending you a weak smile when you glared at him playfully.

--

A few hours later, the others were getting restless. They'd planned a bacchanal for that evening. Francis and Camilla were making the robes, adjusting sheets to make an approximation of a toga. When you'd gone downstairs earlier to find something for you and Henry to eat, you'd found Charles and Richard wandering around in theirs already. Yours and Henry's were the only ones yet to be fitted. All of the supplies had been gathered. They didn't want to leave without you, and they needed Henry's knowledge. So they had been waiting.

Charles burst into the room. "I'm fed up with waiting," he declared.

Francis and the others came in shortly after. "I thought you had a headache?" He asked, seeing Henry sitting beside you. He had recovered impressively quickly. It really hadn't been as bad as usual. The position the others found you in was only really compromising for Henry. You were reading, sitting with your back against the headboard. Henry was lying perpendicular to you, his head in your lap. He wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. You'd heard footsteps approaching the door and quickly covered his bottom half with the sheets.

"He did," Richard supplied. "I came up earlier and he was genuinely sick."

Camilla stared. "Is Henry naked?"

"You two did-"

You cut Francis off. "Henry got too hot."

"Too hot for you to resist, sure," Charles hummed. You sent a glare his way.

Francis sighed. "Look, whatever. We'll delve into you and Henry and your promising sex life tomorrow. For now... the bacchanal. Camilla and I need to fit you into your robes."

"Alright." You stood up, gently patting Henry's forehead as you did so. You walked over to Francis and Camilla. She was unfolding a sheet.

Francis was a little happier now that you were standing in front of him, ready to be made into an Ancient Roman. "We're doing makeup in a minute, too."

"On everyone?" You asked.

Camilla nodded. "Yes. Just redder lipstick on you and me."

Francis' fingers started to deftly unbutton your shirt. Henry sat up quickly, eyes flicking between the two of you. The sudden movement caught all of your attention. Everybody blinked at him. Henry cleared his throat, clutching the sheets to his lower half and looking away. You smiled slightly to yourself.

Francis rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to regret pushing you two together."

"Nothing's happening," you sighed. 

You met Henry's eyes for a split-second before you looked away. Francis continued to undress you. You didn't bat an eye. It wasn't the first time you'd all attempted a bacchanal. Last time, Francis had been in a rush to get all of you in robes before the sun set, Camilla doing people's makeup at the same time. He'd stripped you down to your underwear then, too. Now, you supposed that making Henry jealous had played a role in that.

Henry cleared his throat again. "Francis." The red-head looked up, nodding slightly and walking over to Henry. He leaned down as Henry whispered something to him. Francis came back looking amused, yet bewildered.

"Yeah, you'd better undress yourself," he told you, cracking a grin. "I'd like to keep my hands."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at Henry. He just shrugged. You undressed quickly until you were standing in your underwear. Henry watched you from the bed with undivided attention. Everybody was too amazed by his obvious adoration of you to be annoyed with him. There wasn't any sexual tension in the room anyway, because you were focused on recovering the lost time in preparation for the bacchanal.

"Okay, I'm ready," you said, pushing the straps of your bra down. Camilla appeared in front of you, Francis behind as they wrapped the sheet into a robe like everyone else's.

Charles whistled. "Underwear! Gotta go all natural for the Ancients!" You laughed, slipping your hands under the robe and pulling your underwear off. Again, you didn't bat an eye. Henry gripped the sheets with white-knuckles.

"Let me do your makeup quickly," Camilla pulled you towards her. You stood still in front of her as she drew on your eyeliner and dark eyeshadow. Then, true to her word, she painted your lips with the brightest red you'd ever seen in lipstick.

Francis looked over at Henry. "Your turn, Winter."

"I'm not wearing any clothes," he deadpanned.

Richard snickered. Charles laughed. "I don't think you've worn an item of clothing since last night, Henry."

"Can I have the sheet?" You asked, taking it from Francis. You walked towards Henry. The others watched, biting back laughs as you replaced the sheet of the bed with the makeshift toga. You managed to pull it around his body like a cloak. "Stand up, love."

Charles jeered, "Love!"

Henry did as you asked without question. He pulled you back when he saw that you were going to lead him over to Francis to fix the robe. "If the bacchanal works, we'll lose all inhibitions." He spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Isn't that the point?"

He shook his head. "I don't want to... do things with the others."

"Oh," you hummed in understanding. You thought. "I won't do it, then. I won't do the bacchanal."

Henry nodded. "Will you stop me from doing anything with the others?"

"If you consent to that now, completely sober and under no influence," you nodded. "Because it could get violent. It's a bacchanal after all, right?"

He nodded, taking a step closer to you. He seemed to have forgotten about your friends because he leaned closer. "Do whatever you need to do. I don't want to do anything with them."

"Should I stop you from doing things with me, too?" You questioned.

Henry shook his head. "I don't want you to. But if I make you uncomfortable, yes."

"Okay." You turned to your friends as Henry walked over to Francis and Camilla, getting his sheet fixed and his eyes painted. "I'm not going to take part in the bacchanal."

Charles hummed. "Why?"

"I think it's important that we have someone sober and sensible there, just in case. We haven't had a successful one of these yet, but if we do, crazy things can happen. I'll be able to prevent anything too serious. Also, I can tell you about what fools you've made of yourselves tomorrow." You added the last part with a smile, hoping that they'd forget about how Henry had whispered to you.

Richard looked at you. "It's not because Henry just asked you to?"

"No," you lied. "We've all read about the ritual madness. I just want it to be safe for everyone."

Charles hummed. "I think," he said dramatically. "I think that Henry asked you to make sure he didn't do anything with anybody else. But if you want us to think otherwise, because you somehow think we're all going to buy that you two aren't fucking, then sure. You're being safe." You were genuinely surprised by how well Charles guessed your conversation. Still, you shook your head and made sure to keep your expression impassive.

"Y/N," Camilla called. You looked over at her. "You do Henry's lips." You opened your mouth to protest, not wanting to support their beliefs. She shook her head. "It's not because of that. I need to get in the bathroom and do my own."

You nodded, taking the lighter lipstick from her. Henry stood in front of you, dark eyes boring into yours. "You suit the eyeshadow, Henry," you complimented him.

"When monarchs and nobles bled, guillotines and flags turned red, those revolutions were jealous of the red of her lips," Henry recited to you with a smile. You smiled back at him, pleased by the warmth you could see returning to his eyes after a day of sickness. Your hand cupped his jaw as you swiped the lipstick over his lips. You dropped the stick, using your thumb to smooth it organically. Henry pressed a light kiss to your fingertip as you pulled it away.

You turned to follow the others out of the room. Thankfully, they'd been talking and hadn't witnessed your moment together. The six of you made your way down to the kitchen. You were charged with carrying the wine while Henry brought the speaker. Your fingers traced over the ribbed glass bottles. Then you all journeyed out into the countryside.

They'd chosen a good night; the air was still warm, the ground dry. You walked for only half a minute before stopping. The group couldn't be too far from the house in case of an emergency. The speaker was set in the middle of a circle that the six of you formed. You handed around the wine, not taking a single sip yourself. Henry caught your eye from across the grass, nodding slightly. You knew what he was saying; remember what you promised me. You nodded back. I will. He tipped his head back and drank. You leaned forwards and pressed play on the speaker. The Dionysian ritual began.

--

It was madness. True, complete and utter madness. You were thankful that you'd chosen to not take part in the ritual. It had started slow at first, with your friends looking drowsy and absent. Then it escalated suddenly. Now, you were scanning the marshes for Henry's white robe. You caught sight of him, finally, and rushed over to him.

He was walking quickly, stumbling over tufts of grass and sticks. He didn't notice you at first. You followed his intent gaze, seeing that he was walking towards Camilla, who was lying beneath a tree.

"Oh, no, you don't," you mumbled, catching his wrist.

Henry whirled around on his heel, staring at you. It took a few seconds for recognition to set in. His reddened lips parted and a sweet, toothy smile pierced the dusk. He looked like a purer version of himself, freed of hauteur and ego. "Y/N," he whispered. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chanted your name like a prayer, taking steps towards you.

"Hey, Henry," you smiled, catching his hands in yours. He was holding a half-full bottle of wine. "Feeling a little woozy?"

He was still smiling. "Lie down with me."

"What?"

He yanked his robe off, laying it on the grass. Henry fell to the ground, rolling onto his back and staring up at the night sky. You blinked before laying beside him. He looked at you. "I love you," he declared. Your mouth fell open.

Henry smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He moved onto his front again, leaning on his elbows. Suddenly he was on top of you, looking down at you. He reached over and picked up the bottle of wine, taking a long swig. Then he was sliding down your body until his head was level with your crotch. He sent you another grin before disappearing underneath your sheet. You moved onto your elbows in surprise. This was the debauchery that you had all known bacchanals would bring, but seeing it in Henry was something entirely jarring.

His lips pressed against the insides of your thighs as he felt his way around. You knew he had no idea what he was doing, so you were surprised when he licked a wide stripe over your pussy. You gasped, falling back against the sheet beneath you. He gave an experimental prod of his tongue into your hole before changing his mind. His lips moved upwards, lapping at your juices.

You moved your hands to his hair, tugging the robe out of the way. Henry hummed when you tugged his head higher. His lips fastened onto your clit. You let out a cry when he gave a harsh suck.

"Fuck, Henry."

He took note, continuing to do what he was doing. Even without being able to see his face, it was obvious Henry was completely focussed on his task. He ate messily, sloppily. The abandonment of any of his rigid manners made it oh-so much better. Your body melted into the grass, eyes fluttering.

"Oh, christ," you whispered.

Henry’s head lifted to examine your expression. The bottom half of his face glistened in the moonlight. His eyes were darker than usual as he moved up your body, lips finding yours. Your eyes rolled at the sweet taste of yourself and wine on his lips. His hand snaked between your legs, fingers clumsily finding your clit and drawing firm patterns that you were sure he didn’t know felt so good. He pressed  kisses to your lips repeatedly. Your mouth fell open as you panted. He didn't stop kissing you, just moved his targets to around your mouth instead.

When you came, Henry lifted his hand to his lips and licked away every drop. Watching him treat your body like something to be venerated and treasured turned you on more.

"Henry," you whispered. He looked at you. "I want to have sex with you.”

He jumped to his feet, grabbing the wine in one hand and your wrist in the other. You clutched your sheet around your body as you ran with him through the grass. Henry stopped once you were close enough to the speaker to hear the music properly. Then he laid down in the grass, looking up at you with earnest expectedness. You wished that you were a painter, so that you could commit the masterpiece in front of you to an oil canvas and hang it proudly in a gallery.

"Ruin me," he whispered, looking up at you with wide eyes. Dionysus’ perfect old Roman.

You stared down at him in disbelief. Then you moved to straddle him. "Sit up, sweet boy." Henry did as you said. You took the wine from his hand, pressing the neck of the bottle to his lips. His eyes didn't leave yours as he chugged the alcohol. You pulled away a few seconds after it became too much. Wine trailed down his chin.

Henry watched you. "Cover me in it," he murmured, kissing your lips. You licked the wine away from his chin.

"I want you inside me first," you told him. Your hand found the base of his cock. Slowly, you slid him inside you. It took you a moment to accommodate his size. The whole time, Henry was sucking at your neck. Once you were used to the feeling of him inside you, you moved his head so that you were looking into his eyes. He looked back at you. You trailed kisses along his neck, leading upwards to his jaw. You kissed the junction of his jaw before sucking a mark there. Part of you felt like this was some messy, depraved dream, and you wanted to leave a mark to prove it was more than that. Henry's hands lifted to grab your hips. You took his jaw in your hand, pushing his head back. "Close your eyes, Henry," you told him.

Henry's eyes fluttered shut. You tipped the wine bottle, watching the stream of red disappear into Henry's hair before it flooded his face and shoulders. His jaw jutted outwards as he gasped. You watched hungrily until the bottle was empty. You pressed kisses to Henry's lips as you swiped the wine from his eyes with your thumbs. They opened and he grinned at you.

Finally, you started to move, rocking your hips against his. Henry laid flat on his back, pressing his feet to the ground so that he could buck his hips up into yours. He hadn't forgotten about your clit, which he had only just discovered the existence of. His thumb moved from your hip to your clit, rubbing circles there as the two of you gasped and groaned.

"Y/N," he moaned. "Please, don't stop." You watched him, feeling his strong body tense beneath your fingertips. He let out a cry that was loud enough for anybody out of the grass to hear. "Y/N!"

--

"So, where's loverboy?"

You looked over at Charles. All of your friends were sitting around the dining table, making their way through breakfasts that you'd prepared for them. They were all drowsy, but not too hungover. "Charles, don't make me take back your breakfast."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "But, really, where is Henry?"

Francis hummed. "Speak of the devil. Morning, Henry."

"Morning," he replied. You had already turned around to plate up food for him, so you didn't see what all the others did.

Camilla gasped. "Henry, what's happened to you?"

"Are you hurt?" Richard frowned.

You turned around in confusion, eyes widening when you saw him. "Oh, Henry," you murmured, placing the plate down on the table. "Love, you look like Satan."

"I don't feel that hungover," Henry frowned. Charles laughed. You grabbed Henry's hand, pulling him to the bathroom in your room. He looked in the mirror. "Oh."

You chuckled. "Yeah." His hair was stained a reddish-brown from the wine the night before. To make matters worse, his face was still covered in trails of maroon.

"What is it?" Henry frowned.

You blinked. "You don't remember?"

"No," he shook his head. "Did you stop me?"

You nodded. "Yeah, but we did stuff. You asked me to do that." You gestured towards his face.

"To... cover me in blood?" Henry frowned. “Was it some kind of ritual sacrifice? A lamb, or something?” He didn’t look as concerned by the prospect as he probably should have.

You shook your head. "It's wine."

"Oh," he nodded. "Of course." He looked in the mirror for a few more seconds before he shook his head slightly. His eyes flicked between yours. "Will you help me wash it out?"

You smiled. "Sure. Strip off, get in the tub." Henry did as you asked, naked and in the bath within seconds. You switched on the shower, holding the showerhead in your hand as it warmed up. Henry watched you with his constant and once again unreadable gaze.

"What did we do? Last night?"

You shrugged, starting to massage his head. "We had sex. You gave me oral sex. I rode you and covered you in wine."

"I see," Henry mumbled to himself. "I wish I remembered."

You hummed. "I'm sure we can do all those things again when you're not completely out of your mind."

"When we go home, after this," Henry began. "Do you intend for us to just return to normality? Or can this- can we continue?"

You smiled. "I'd like it if we did. Especially if we spend our time doing what we've done this holiday."

"It is the Greek and Roman way," Henry pointed out, tilting his head back.

You pressed a kiss to his lips. "It is."

He hummed against your lips. "Praise Dionysus."

"Praise fucking Dionysus."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks to anon for asking me to edit and publish this one. i'm so sorry about how depraved it gets lol i swear i toned it down from what it was originally. there's a critical shortage of henry winter content on here though so as far as i'm concerned it's god's work.

F <3

[deathbxnny]

hello, aventurine blade and jing yuan with a teen reader thats like lynette from gi? (please do include lynette‘s backstory as well) :3

Hello there, Anon!! Thank you for the request, and I hope you'll like it!<33

Content: Platonic relationships, vague non-descriptive mentions of past child abuse/kidnapping, reader is a young teen, characters are older brother/father figures, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》AVENTURINE

You and Aventurine found a lot of similarities in eachothers pasts, mainly because you knew how it felt like to suffer at the hands of greedy nobles. He saw a younger him in you, which made him initially, therefore, take you in when you first arrived in the IPC. You were quiet and extremely reserved at the beginning, which he respected in his own slightly teasing way.

He knew his patience eventually paid off when you'd ask him to join you for some tea, where you'd open up about your favorite books or interests. He'd calmly listen to you whilst enjoying that rare moment of relaxation you gave him.

He definitely also teaches you card tricks once he finds out about your little magician's assistant gig you had going on. Aventurine finds a sense of pride in watching you master new skills taught by him, as he silently wonders if all he does for you is enough to set you on the path of having a good life one day. Even if it is one without him around to guide you anymore.

》JING YUAN

Jing Yuan doesn't pry about your past more than what was necessary. You were brought to him after you killed the noble that had abused you, and at the sight of your rather young age, he decided that taking you in was a good idea. He didn't mind how cold and reserved you were to him, he was a patient man and had all the time in the world for you.

He eventually began inviting you for tea, where you'd play chess together and speak about topics he slowly found out you were perhaps into. Jing Yuan also definitely made you hang out with Yanqing as well, figuring that having someone of your age around would be helpful. And despite both of you being annoyed by it at first, you two grew to be a very strong team together.

The general makes sure you know that you can always rely on him if your past haunts you. He's not going anywhere and neither are you.

(He definitely also pats your head often, unable to hide his secret cuteness aggression from how adorable your cat ears and tail was. He finds your deadpans funny.)

》BLADE

Blade didn't care about where you were from or what made you end up joining the Stellaron hunters in the first place. You were uninteresting, just another kid with a dark past... until you were assigned to work for him, and he therefore became somewhat of your caretaker. Neither of you was thrilled, but you learned to move on and deal with it slowly. Your past was only brought up once, and despite being seemingly indifferent to it, Blade was somewhat impressed by how you were still able to be so calm and collected after all of it. It made him somewhat... easier on you.

As time went on, both of you grew closer as mentor and student in a way, both of you knowing that you can rely on the other when things got bad. He kept your back clear, and you kept his clear. That was the silent deal you struck. Blade definitely trained you to become a master assassin as well, figuring that you'd need it if you wanted to survive in this world. He didn't care if he had to be a bit sterner or even colder, but he knew you'd thank him one day.

Eventually, life would make you part ways one way or another. Whether it was through him finally being relieved of his cursed burdens or you moving on from him as a mentor, he knew it would come to an end. But until then, he figured your company wasn't too bad, as he simply decided to keep being your teacher until fate said otherwise.

Alrighttt!! I'm sorry this took so long, but as everyone knows, life sucks. Anyhow, I hope this was okay, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!<33

[wheeboo]

the secret life of jun | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. in which jun gets set up on a blind date by his best friend. PAIRING. zoolinguist!wen junhui x gn!reader (ft. minghao, gyu the golden retriever, boo the duckling, and lil mentions of some members as their representative animals. not hybrids.) GENRE. fluff, humour, kinda strangers to lovers, magic-realism au WARNINGS. cursing, jun just being a very cute awkward shy boy :(, my first attempt at something remotely magic/fantasy WORD COUNT. 3k

notes: this is for the caratlibrary secret gift exchange event! and therefore, this gift is for @phenomenalgirl9 who also gifted a fic for me hehe. i hope you enjoy <3 this is also my first time writing something remotely fantasy/magic, so... feedback is welcome! ty to my lovely moots who read this over for me ^^

"Jun! Can you tell your dog to get the fuck off me?" Minghao attempts to shove away the ever-persistent golden retriever pawing and licking at his face, but Jun doesn't seem to hear, seemingly engrossed on something else entirely in the kitchen.

Minghao just groans annoyedly, and just as he's about to call out for his best friend's name again, a thought crosses his mind. A sort-of stupid one that he knows won't work, but he'll try it out anyway.

He brings a hand up, watching the dog follow it with curiosity, and he points to the ground while firmly saying, "Down."

Unfortunately, the dog only tilts his head inquisitively, as if dazed and confused by the action, before relentlessly pouncing on the boy again, and all he could do is surrender himself to the attack of excitement. Right, he thinks, these animals don't exactly understand him normally.

Jun finally emerges from the kitchen after what feels like an eternity, a black cat cuddled gently in his arms, lightly running his fingers through its fur carefully. When he picks his head up, he could only chuckle at the sight in front of him. Minghao only rolls his eyes, shooting a playful glare to his best friend who only seems amused.

"Your dog is a menace," Minghao declares, wiping away the slobber from his face.

"Come on! Gyu just likes you."

"I'm not sure I share the sentiment right now," Minghao replies almost coldly, perhaps even half-jokingly, attempting to regain his composure.

Jun just sighs and sends out a whistle from his lips to get the dog's attention. And with a subtle look from just his eyes, as if sending a silent signal, Gyu hops off the couch and trots over to Jun, letting out a few barks in response.

"He says he doesn't like your attitude today," Jun translates, setting the cat in his hands down on the floor. "but he's forgiven you."

"Gee, thanks," Minghao scoffs and crosses his arms together, still trying to maintain a façade of irritation, though it's quite easy to see right through it.

He watches for some time as Jun crouches down to the dog's level, the two of them communicating in a way he knows he can never understand, but is grown to be amazed by every time. It isn't a secret that he knows that his own best friend can communicate with animals, as strange as that might sound (because... it's true), but it's a fact he's fully accepted.

Jun probably has more animal friends than human friends at this point. He's made friends with the birds at the park, the stray cats that roam the streets, a deer that comes to visit occasionally behind his place, an otter that frequents at a nearby pond, hell even one of the tigers at the zoo𑁋the list goes on.

And not to exactly complain, but he also really wants Jun to find a fucking partner.

Not that it's a bad thing Jun isn't seeing anyone, and it totally isn't the entire reason why Minghao is here right now. He has tried to set Jun up on dates, but the older boy almost always manages to find some excuse or simply doesn't show up, claiming he got caught up in a conversation with a stray cat or a butterfly on the way. Or the date ends up in disaster with a chase down the street of the neighbourhood raccoons stealing food.

But then again, that's Jun for you𑁋unpredictable.

"One more date."

Jun raises his head, and the moment he sees that particular smirk to Minghao's face, he groans.

"No."

"Oh, come on, just one more," Minghao insists. "I promise you'll like them. They're an animal lover."

"Just because they're an animal lover doesn't mean𑁋"

"You're either going to be drinking 'till you're absolutely couch-ridden on new year's because you're single and lonely again, or you could be celebrating with someone special. Your call, dude."

Jun finds his face flushing out of embarrassment, scratching absentmindedly behind Gyu's ears as Minghao's words wash over him. Then his features soften, and he lets out a sigh.

"Fine," he relents. "One more."

Shit, he's screwed. The minute Minghao told him the date would be happening in the middle of the park where he often chatted with the local squirrels and ducks, Jun knew this already wouldn't end well.

He also had quite the love-hate relationship with blind dates𑁋or dates in general, to be honest𑁋and the thought of meeting a stranger made his palms sweat even with the cold threatening through his thick coat (he's convinced that Minghao is pulling anyone out of his ass at this point).

The park is covered with a light blanket of snow, the trees standing tall and glowing with strings of fairy lights against the grey winter sky. Jun shivers in place and adjusts the scarf around his neck, partially from the cold and partially from the impending awkwardness he anticipates.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for being late! The traffic was awful coming here and I got a bit lost..."

The voice is frantic and panicky to Jun's ears akin to his equally panicking heart, who turns around to a figure rushing up to him, covered in layers and letting out misty breaths that appear in the air.

"It's okay," Jun says, voice coming out a bit awkward. He offers a reassuring smile. "I'm, uh... Jun, by the way."

"Y/N," You say, relieved as you finally catch your breath and look up at him with a cute grin. "I'm so sorry for being late. I hope you weren't waiting for too long."

"Oh, not at all. I... just got here as well." It's a bit of a white lie𑁋he was beginning to worry you ditched him, honestly. Jun feels his hands fidget in his pockets nervously, yet he sees the ease that washes over your features at his words, and he relaxes slightly. There's something about the way you carry yourself and the slight blush on your cheeks from the cold that eases some of his tension.

And maybe, just maybe, his heart stutters a little at your smile, like a startled butterfly in his chest. Did the lights at the park grow brighter?

"Would you like to, uh, maybe grab some hot chocolate?" Jun suggests, gesturing towards the small, lit up kiosk nestled in the corner of the park that seemed quite busy with customers. "It can help... warm you up."

Your eyes light up to his words, grinning. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As you both walk towards the kiosk, the air seems to crackle with a nervous energy Jun hadn't expected. Despite the awkwardness gnawing at him, he can't deny the strange sense of hope fluttering in his stomach, somewhat like a small bird unsure of its flight. He's not the best at dates and probably never will be, but for some reason, feeling this sort of apprehension is unlike anything else he's felt. It's not uncomfortable per se, but more... exciting?

The two of you stand in the back of the line, shoulder-to-shoulder, hands tucked deep in your pockets and sharing silences punctuated by the occasional nervous giggle when your eyes meet. The line at the kiosk is surprisingly long, a mix of bundled-up families with laughing children and young couples warming their hands around steaming plastic cups.

When your shoulder brushes against his, Jun freezes for a moment, feeling a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. He steals a glance at you, finding your gaze already on him, and there's a shy smile that you both share before you look away first.

Then Jun notices it𑁋you're shivering.

It's almost imperceptible at first, a slight tremor running through your shoulders as you shift your weight from foot to foot. He hesitates for a moment, then a nervous breath leaves him. Fuck it.

Without a word, he unravels the wooly scarf from around his neck and drapes it over you, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary as he adjusts it comfortably. You blink up at Jun with wide eyes.

"Sorry I, uh... noticed you were cold," he mumbles, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

You glance at him, surprise evident in your eyes, and then you chuckle. "Are you sure? I don't want you to freeze."

"I'll be alright," Jun just assures calmly, though the chill creeping up his neck is a bit hard to hide now.

The line moves forward, and soon you're ordering hot chocolate for the both of you. Jun pays for both, insisting with a small nod when you attempt to pull out your wallet.

As Jun and you clutch the steaming cups, the warmth radiating through the thin plastic felt almost comforting. The park bustles around you, but with each sip, the outside world seems to fade away, leaving only the diffident hum of conversation and the fluttering hope that dances between you.

"So, uh, what kind of animals do you like?" Jun asks, trying to break the ice as you both trail down an empty path close to the icy pond nearby. He's not exactly smooth with conversation, but he figures asking about your supposed love for animals is a safe bet. "I've been told you like them."

Your eyes light up as you take a swift, long sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth quickly spreading through you.

"Oh, all kinds!" You answer eagerly. "I volunteer at an animal shelter not that far from here and take care of the injured ones. I have a lot of pets at home too𑁋a hamster, a dog, a few cats, a rabbit... How about you?"

You spoke so quickly that Jun could barely register it all, but he can't help but grin at your enthusiasm. It’s almost infectious.

"Wow, I have, uh... a dog and a cat at home... Gyu and Woozi are their names," Jun replies slowly, almost unsurely.

"That's really cute!" You tell him, catching the way the corners of his lips crinkle up just slightly and how he has to angle his face down just to hide it. "My hamster's name is Hoshi! My dog is Minnie, my rabbit is Hannie, and my cats are Wonu, Nonie..."

Listening to you list your pets' names and some of the ones you've taken care of at the shelter makes Jun feel just a tiny bit lighter with each step he takes with you, and also from the way your eyes sparkle with every word you spoke. He finds himself letting out giggles at your stories of Hoshi's escape attempts and Min's stubborn streak, and for the first time in a long time, he feels truly comfortable, truly seen in a way that didn't feel fake.

Yet it doesn't take long for that feeling to falter just slightly. He doesn't know what Minghao exactly told you about him, or if anything at all𑁋how does he explain to you that he can quite literally talk to animals?

He knew that spilling the beans could go one of two ways: either you'd think he was crazy, or you'd be amazed (and maybe even a little scared). He's never exactly revealed it to any person he goes on a date with because, in the end, after a handful of mishap encounters with animals that don't mean to ruin the date, they end up leaving anyway.

Should he tell you? The words dance on his tongue, ready to tumble out, but that unwanted fear of rejection holds him back once again.

But before he can say anything, a squeaky quack pierces through the air, snapping Jun out of his thoughts. He looks down to see a small duckling waddling towards them, its tiny yellow head bobbing with each step. It stops in front of you, tilting its head inquisitively as it looks you up and down curiously, before heading to Jun's feet and quacking loudly.

It's Boo, one of the park's young resident chatterboxes who loves nothing more than socialising and the occasional spread of gossip. Jun had befriended Boo a while back, often sharing stories and snacks by the pond. But what was Boo doing here, and why does he look so worried? Jun could almost hear a frantic heartbeat echoing through the duckling's chest.

Boo lets out a series of rapid quacks. Jun strains to decipher the splurge of words, picking up snippets about stolen food and a local raccoon, and... how one of his siblings is stuck somewhere.

"Oh my gosh, you're so cute!" You exclaim, kneeling down upon noticing the young duck in front of Jun and extending a tentative hand. "What are you doing out here, little one? You're going to freeze."

Jun could only listen as the distraught duck spills its frustration on you. Yet you didn't understand anything, only continuing to coo about how cute the duckling is, and Jun watches as Boo looks up at him with pleading eyes, urging him to do something. He knew he had to act, but he glances at you, still kneeling with outstretched hand at Boo, and his mind races.

Should he explain his... ability to you and risk making you uncomfortable? Or maybe try to handle it on his own, somehow decipher Boo's instructions and lead you on a cryptic animal rescue mission that might look completely bizarre, delusional, and psychotic?

"Do you think it's lost?" You ask worriedly, glancing back up at Jun. And when his gaze catches yours, warm and hopeful in the glow of the fairy lights surrounding you, a surge of determination pulses through him.

Jun only quietly chuckles at Boo's attempts to tell you his name, his tiny feathered body vibrating with slight annoyance, but your gentle cooing and outstretched hand seem to soothe him a little. The sight stirs something deep within him, a warmth that spreads beyond the simple comfort of the hot chocolate from earlier.

"He's not lost," Jun says, his gaze meeting yours. "He's... a friend. And he's telling us a story. Oh, and his name is Boo, by the way."

Your brow furrows in confusion, a tiny crease appearing between your eyes. “You… understand ducks?”

Jun offers a hesitant smile, a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach. There's no going back now.

“It’s a bit more than that,” he admits sheepishly, watching your expression shift from curious to intrigued. “I can, um, like... sort of talk to animals, I guess. Or they sort of talk to me, basically, yeah..."

The silence that follows is deafening. Jun braces himself for a wave of disbelief, rejection, maybe even a startled shriek. But instead, your eyes widen with awe, a growing smile forms on your lips, and Jun can't quite bring himself to tear his gaze away from you. He'd taken a leap of faith, and you, instead of running for the hills, were looking at him with... wonder?

"Wow, that's..." You breathe, voice hushed with wonder. "I-I mean I always knew that... sort of existed? Like, in research papers and ancient history, but meeting someone who can actually do it is just..."

Jun blinks, a bit taken aback by your reaction.

"You're not... freaked out or anything?" he asks cautiously. "Like... you actually believe me?"

"Jun." You turn to him, shifting so that your knees are slightly touching in the snow. "Minghao told me like... a lot of things, or tried to at least. I mean, at first I found it ridiculous, then I realised that this is Xu Minghao telling me this, and if he's vouching for you, it must be true. And, well... I really wanted to get to know you too."

Oh. "Oh," Jun mutters, cheeks flushing and face burning. Minghao, of course. He should have known his best friend with a 'credible' reputation wouldn't simply set him up on a blind date without throwing him under the bus a little bit. "I mean, it-it's nothing too fascinating. No mind-reading or telepathy exactly, just… understanding their gestures and stuff. It's kind of like learning a new language, you know?"

"Well, can you tell me what Boo is saying then?" You quirk up expectantly, and Jun swears he cannot handle more than five seconds of you peering at him without melting completely. His heart does a little double flip in his chest, landing somewhere around his ankles.

Jun chuckles, a warm sound that feels right at home amidst the snowy air. Then he takes a deep breath, steadying himself under your gaze, before turning his attention back to the little duck at his feet.

"Alright, alright," he teases, ruffling Boo's feathers playfully. "Don't get jealous, little guy. Spill it."

Boo then goes on an insistent frenzy of quacks, and you could only watch in awe as Jun listens carefully, nodding and humming in response. There's a certain magic in the air that you can sense, as if you've stepped right into a fairytale of some sorts. The small duckling then looks up at you with begging eyes, as if seeking your help as well. Jun shoots you a quick glance, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"He's pretty worked up," he admits, clearing his throat. "He's telling me about a raccoon that stole his flock's food, and... um, one of his siblings is stuck in a log somewhere. I have some food with me, but he wants to find his sibling first. He knows the way."

"Then let's do it," You say, rising to your feet and dusting off the snow on your pants.

Jun hesitates again, staring at you in slight disbelief𑁋you want to come with him? He glances at Boo, who lets out a frustrated quack, urging him to make a decision. Then he looks back at you, your kind eyes holding his own, and suddenly the choice becomes clear.

"Do you trust me?" Jun asks softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

You hold his gaze for a moment, a thoughtful look on your face. Then a smile blooms across your lips, one that reaches your eyes and seems to chase away the worry.

"I trust you," You answer, stretching an open hand towards him.

Jun feels a warmth spread through him, and he grabs your hand in his. Relief and something else courses through him, like excitement and perhaps a bit of fear. You were in, and that was all that mattered.

Boo lets out a triumphant quack, and with him waddling excitedly at your feet, you follow Jun deeper into the park, the fairy lights casting long shadows against the snow-covered ground. It's a strange sight𑁋you walking on one side of Jun and a duckling trotting on the other𑁋but with every step, whatever awkwardness that was lingering seems to melt away.

And maybe, just maybe, something else was blossoming too.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

[respectthepetty]

scared of your thoughts on fk - i think they confuse their friends & each other - feels so intricate

You asked about one specific pair, but . . .

You opened a floodgate!

I already wrote that I like fan service; therefore, I like First and Khaotung's special brand of teary-eyed fan service. However, I also wrote that JoongDunk are my GMMTV favorites because Joong is always hyping up his homies, and Dunk stays Pretty Boy Petty.

So I'm excited to see all four promote The Heart Killers when the show is ready to be released since I think it'll be a hoot watching First and Khaotung call each other best friends with tears in their eyes while Joong sits next to them commenting on how banging Dunk's body is and Dunk openly agreeing that his body is, in fact, banging. Joong and Dunk are always firing shots at First x Khaotung for no good ass reason, so I'm thrilled they will get to do it to First and Khaotung's faces for an extended period of time.

Because to me, most fan service is good since it allows people to see people of the same sex casually being affectionate with each other without the belief that it should be shameful or hidden, so give me all the styles of GMMTV fan service! Give me Force x Book's eighty year friendship, Pond x Phuwin's nerdy fashion model energy, Earth x Mix's marriage and divorce era, Tay x New's fist fights over dessert, Off x Gun's evolution of skinship, Jimmy x Sea's intellectual companionship, Gemini x Forth's "fuck it, we ball' attitude, and all the other 31 Flavors of Branded Pairs the BL world has to offer us.

Because I really do not care what these men do or do not do or if it is real or not. What bothers me is these companies (not just GMMTV) encourage this behavior, then when fans get toxic, the companies leave the actors to deal with the fallout. I also don't like that out actors aren't as well protected and even straight actors and their girlfriends are targeted by fans, which only encourages queer actors to stay closeted while delivering a queer performance and for straight actors to feed into this mind fuckery by being in a pseudo-monogamous relationship with their acting partner which is an extension of our heteronormative societies and their belief that affection can only be reserved for one person.

So my thoughts on First and Khaotung are irrelevant because I'm going to like all these pairs regardless of what they give me. Max and Tul were as open as possible about Max having a girlfriend and Tul being gay, yet that in no way influenced how I enjoyed their fan service. Yin and War have stated several times that what they do is their job, and I'm still clapping every time War chokes Yin. And as much as I truly believe Mos and Bank are married, if they came out today and said they actually hate each other and cannot stand the sight of each other, I'd be proud at their acting skills all these years because I have faked liking my coworkers for a lot less money.

As a Catholic and a slut, I think there is a great sociological study here about how branded pairs help with queer representation regardless if the people in the pairs are queer or not, yet how the pairs must still fit into a digestible frame of traditional (hetero) relationships with affection only being given to one person forever and ever until death (or their contracts) do them part.

So First and Khaotung aren't the only ones confusing people because this entire setup is confusing. They aren't creating some intricate strategy but these companies are. These actors are just out here telling their homies they look cute and going on (hopefully) company-sponsored trips. And if they like it, I love it.

Because I've been pretending to like Karen from Finance for years when I can't stand that bitch, yet I still have a job that pays my bills, so "get it how you live it."

And make it a little queer along the way.

[dearly-somber]

SLUMP | h.js

-> pairing. jisung x 9th member!reader (f)

-> genre. angst, emotional hurt/comfort

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1382

-> warnings. angst; Y/N overworks herself; Y/N passes out; a lot of worrying by the members; emotional distress

-> a/n. This song is 🥹🥹

-> collection. songfics

-> started. ???

-> fin. Dec. 28th, 2020 @ 10:32

-> edited. Wed., Oct. 24th, 2022 @ 21:25

You were stuck staring at your ceiling, mind blank and body restless.

You felt like you were lagging behind at this point. Chan had reassured you that there was nothing wrong and you were doing as well as everyone around you, if not better. But you felt otherwise. A lot of anti's had been posting tweets, posts, videos, all about how you were meaningless to the group, except for the fact that you were the only girl and therefore gave the group a bit of pizzazz.

You wanted to prove yourself.

You wanted to prove that yes, you were a good rapper. You were a good singer. You were a great dancer. But they always compared you to your members.

“She can't rap like Changbin, Jisung or Felix.”

“She can't sing like Seungmin, Jeongin or Chan.”

“She can't dance like Minho or Hyunjin.”

“She can't write or compose like Jisung and the other 3RACHA members.”

“She's useless to the group, except for publicity.”

You pulled off the covers and walked to your bathroom, putting on some light make-up and brushing your teeth and hair before heading over to your closet to get into some decent clothes for practice. You pulled out your phone and checked the time:

03:45 a.m.

It's fine. More than enough time to practice. You shook your head, managing to sneak out of the dorm and head around to the practice room. When you got there you immediately connected your phone to the speakers and started practicing to songs with which you wanted to improve rapping. That you did for two hours until 5:45 am. Then you did vocal practices and warm-ups until 6:45. Then for the last few hours until the other members would show up, you practiced your choreography and dance in general. You had muted your phone and couldn't hear any message notifications, hence why you couldn't hear your members blowing up your phone.

•••

"Where is she? She's not anywhere in the dorm—"

"She's not picking up her phone, either..." Jeongin added anxiously, looking between his hyungs.

Chan, though worried, tried to keep cool to make sure chaos was kept to a minimum. "Don't worry, guys. I'm sure we'll find her somewhere in the building. She probably went to practice a bit earlier today."

"You think so? She usually never wakes up early." Changbin said, biting his inner cheek as he tapped his phone case worriedly.

"That's true. We always have to wake her up." Minho added, folding his arms as he finished fixing his hair.

"I'm sure she's fine." Felix said hopefully, smiling in a calming manner before heading out to the practice room with the others.

•••

You stopped for the third time in the last 2 minutes. Your whole body was aching and your head hurt. You took a sip of water and a quick 30 second breather before restarting the song. It was midway through the Side Effects choreo that the members stumbled into the room, frantically looking around before visibly relaxing at the sight of you. You tried to put on a bright smile, turning around to look at them fully. “Who's late, now?" You stuck your tongue out half-heartedly, laughing airly as you went to unplug your phone, flinching at the large amounts of texts and missed calls.

"Where've you been?" Jisung asked as he walked over for a hug, his blue hair illuminated in the light. You shrugged, opening your arms to hug him. Once you leaned into him you went limp in his arms, your eyes closing blissfully and body appreciating the break. Jisung cocked a brow as you pulled away almost forcefully, but decided to keep quiet, staring blankly after you since you refused to tell him what was up.

•••

"Okay! Five, six—five, six, seven, eight!" Minho counted you all in and you missed the beat, stumbling forward and bumping into Seungmin.

"Sorry, Minnie. You okay?"

"I think I should be the one asking that question, noona… You look pale."

"No, I'm goo—woah.” The floor danced beneath your feet as a sudden wave of dizziness overcame your senses, Changbin catching you as you fell back.

"Y/N, you don't look good." Changbin said worriedly, keeping his hands close to you even after you had shoved them away.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"Y/N—"

"I said I'm fine!" You snapped at Chan, your shoulders tense. Everyone looked at you nervously. You were known for your patience and almost never got angry, though when you did it never ended well. Sniffling, you swore under your breath, storming out and into the bathroom.

With a collective sigh, Hyunjin stopped the music, watching as Minho ran a hand through his hair while others paced nervously, Jeongin fiddling uncomfortably with his fingers.

“Jisung?"

The blue haired boy turned to look at his leader attentively, his bottom lip captured between his teeth.

"Would you mind trying to talk to her?"

Nodding, Jisung walked over to the door and gently wrapped his knuckles against it.

"Come in..." You said hoarsly, sounding like you had been crying. It was pretty obvious that you had a soft spot for Jisung, hence why Chan thought you'd talk to him.

"Noona..." Jisung said quietly, walking over to your hunched form at the end of the bathroom: leaning against the wall and crying into your knees. He wrapped his arms around you and you cried further into his shoulder, trying hard not to be too loud. Jisung was on the verge of tears himself, rubbing circles into your back in hopes of comforting you. When you calmed down, you explained to him that you had been practicing for at least seven hours and after he did the math he looked at you seriously.

"You've been here since three a.m?" You nodded, leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder, eyes closing. "Noona, that's dangerously long!"

"I know, Sung-ah... It's just that... I wanna do a good job, you know? It's like everyone's miles ahead of me, just out of reach, and I'm the only one at the bottom of the pile, waiting to be forgotten…” You were crying again, and Jisung felt his heart ache as he hugged you closer.

“I just want them to root for me, too. I wanna show them all of me because they're all watching but I don't know what they want."

Jisung gently leaned back and took your face in his hands. “Whoever 'they' are, they don’t matter. You're giving us everything you've got and it's more than enough. You don't have anything to prove, noona. You're doing fine just as you are and doing this to yourself is far from what we want from you."

You nodded, leaning into his touch and slumping down slightly. Jisung nodded and brought you closer, eventually noticing that you had passed out, most likely from exhaustion.

"What happened?" Hyunjin asked questioningly when Jisung came out carrying you. He shook his head, looking from you to his members.

"She passed out. She's been practicing since three this morning. I'm taking her back to the dorm to sleep it off. We'll be able to check up on her later. She should be awake by the time we finish up here."

Chan nodded and told Jisung to head on up to the dorms as practice continued.

•••

When you woke up, you smelled pizza. Rubbing your eyes tiredly you walked into the living room where Jeongin attacked you with hugs.

"You feeling better yet, noona?"

"Innie~ that's a bit tight, love.”

"Ah, sorry—" Jeongin pulled away with a hint of pink on his face because of your pet name.

You ruffled his hair and nodded. “I'm feeling much better, maknae-ya."

"That's great! We left you your food in the kitchen and there's a buddy coke for you in the fridge." Jeongin smiled happily as he joined his hyungs by the TV where you guys were they were watching fail army.

"You better not do that again, okay?" Jisung said seriously as he walked up to you, leaning against the counter while watching you get your food and drink.

"I won't, Sung. Thanks for helping me today..."

Jisung smiled as he side hugged you quietly. “Always."