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saintescuderia · 11 months ago

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ANTINAL // CS55

(a pancakes oneshot!)

AKA - carlos tries the local food in jeddah without you - and suffers as a result

series masterlist here :)

the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: this was written as a coping mechanism for the fact that carlos is sick and might not make jeddah

“Please tell me what you were thinking.”

You walked into the room to see the Spanish driver sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes from the nap you had just woken up him from. Good. You had seen his Instagram story and the bragging of the 50km bike ride around Jeddah. With the Ferrari contract coming to an end, Onoro was working overtime. Carlos’ schedule was now jam packed with all these PR moments, both official in having meetings and dinners, and unofficial and his Instagram was now becoming his CV.

Case in point, let me show off my athleticism.

“I wanted to go for a bike ride.” Carlos said simply. His ran a hand through his bed hair, wild from his nap, and then his eye adjusted to you. “Don’t dump your bag there.”

“Then don’t keep your shoes here.” You retorted as, of course, his shoes were right by the door. You two had often argued about it, him haphazardly taking them off as he walked into the hotel and you tripping over them and then nagging him about it as you kicked them to the side. As now, you nagged at him and kicked the white sneakers out of your path.

However, in doing so, you stopped and bent down to pick up the shoes. You looked at him and then back at the shoe with the Nike swish. A surprised smile found its way on your face, distracting you from the issue at hand.

“You went out in dunks?”

“You bought them for me to wear.” He said as if it were obvious. “Girlfriend affect.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute that was. For a second, the whole thing disarmed you and made your forget why you had rushed to the hotel room in a huff.

Then Carlos reached for some pills on his bedside table and it all came rushing back.

It wasn’t like you disagreed with all the extra stuff Onoro had his cousin do. Carlos needed to start working now if he wanted to find another seat for next year. You all agreed to it. What you didn’t agree to was Carlos taking stupid risks with his training and doing stuff like a 50km bike ride in Saudi Arabian weather without you. The heat stroke alone was enough to knock him out and prevent him from actually racing that weekend.

Case in point, right now.

“Alright kids I gotta get to work, if I don’t input those numbers… doesn’t make much of difference.”

You snorted, immediately tuning into the iconic voice of one Chandler Bing. You look to where the TV was playing one of the earlier season of FRIENDS, the cast looking especially younger. You looked back at Carlos and frowned, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What? You always say I should watch it.” He said.

It wasn’t that Carlos was watching FRIENDS. It was the fact that he was in bed watching FRIENDS. If there ever was someone more pedantic about sleep hygiene, it was him. If he had just woken up from a nap, it wasn’t planned. Suddenly, your worry about his wellbeing overtook your anger.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you came to sit on the edge of the bed he was still reclined in. You brought a hand to his forehead and noted his temperature. Nothing alarming. Though, he was shirtless and the AC was on. You also noted the green gel of aloe vera he had likely stolen from your own suitcase. At least he was taking care of himself.

“Better now that you’re here.” He said and reached up to bring the hand that was feeling his forehead to bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to your fingers. You rolled your eyes but still couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re not going to get out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“Carlos, I saw your story.” You said.

“One second mi amor.” Carlos flipped the bed sheets back and then climbed out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. You stared at him confusedly as suddenly there was music playing from inside the bathroom. You were really at a loss with this one. Especially since you recognised the song and wondered since when your boyfriend willingly listened to Metro Boomin?

Carlos was particular about his bathroom time and if he was playing music, you could only assume he wasn’t in there just to take a piss. Evidently he was going to be in there for a while and that meant you would have to occupy yourself until then.

There was a coffee machine at the small kitchenette that was calling your name. You had woken up earlier than usual to help Oscar through some drills before the race weekend and the need for caffeine was all too real. As you popped the pod into the Nespresso machine, you realised the spread of half-eaten food Carlos had likely ordered - and dumped into the kitchen sink.

You knew his diet well since you had been the one to essentially create it. It had been a painstaking process to carefully craft a regime that allowed Carlos to hit his protein goals - and indulge in his love for food. Because man, did Carlos love food. He had pretty much wept at the sight of you poached chicken breast all those many months ago. Since the relationship between the two of you had shifted on from the strictly business of a trainer-driver relationship to becoming a fully fledged romantic couple, Carlos had taken you out to countless restaurants. He had a list in his Notes app of all his favourite restaurants, bars and cafes all around the world and had decided to take you to every one come a Grand Prix weekend.

You thought it was stupid since he needed to work but one could never be mad at those eyes. It was how he managed to get you to let him eat all that he did.

So to see that Carlos Sainz, the Spanish foodie Carlos Sainz, had ordered a lunch of plain fruits and plain toast— you were immediately confused. Suspicious even. Carlos eating plain toast was… unfathomable.

You made your coffee and opted to just wait until Carlos could explain his choice of breakfast. The way you saw it was that he was restricting himself with such low calorie foods in the hope of shedding weight and hopefully then bettering his race.

The coffee had finished pouring and you huffed as you picked up the cup and went to sit on the bed.

“I can’t stop smiling.”

“I can see that. It’s like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”

Sitting on the bed, you blew on your coffee and tried to focus on Rachel and Monica on the TV - and not how Carlos was currently his own worse enemy. It was no use to tell him off now. Reyes had told you how the Junior was like the Senior in the toilet being a sacred space. You don’t bother Carlos on the toilet.

You had done that once and it was the only time Carlos had ever snapped at you.

Something buzzed in your pocket. It was likely Oscar asking about lunch and so you went to set the coffee on the bedside table to free up your hands and respond - when you saw it.

You recognised the Ferrari water bottle with the personalised 55 decoration.

You also recognised the Antinal box of pills that were half opened beside it.

Oh.

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The plain foods, the lack of forewarning as he jumped to the toilet, the impromptu nap. Carlos wasn’t unfit for Jeddah because he was overworking himself, Carlos was unfit for Jeddah because he had diarrhoea.

Looking down at the familiar bottle of pills, your only question now was how in the fuck Carlos knew to take it. Sure, Antinal would’ve been your go to if you were hit with gastro or food poisoning or whatever it was that was now plaguing your boyfriend. Your auntie used to have a hoarded stock of the medication in her cupboard above the microwave. You swore that the stuff was magic. It was better than any of the medication you had found in the US or UK. Though, how Carlos had managed to get hold of Egyptian diarrhoea medication was beyond you.

You looked back at the white dunks by the door and remembered how while you had been training with your brother, your boyfriend had been doing some PR for Saudi Arabia and touring the local streets.

The door finally opened and out came Carlos, patting his stomach. You said nothing as he came to sit on the bed beside you, not questioning how you took his side. He wordlessly climbed back under the covers and you felt all the anger, all the worry wash out of you. All you felt now was genuine fondness for the sick boy beside you.

“You tried the local food without me.”

It was a statement but Carlos still curled up beside you and mumbled an affirmative “Yes.” to your side. Your arm came up to wrap around him and start playing with his hair.

“How the fuck did you find Antinal?”

“I asked Oscar.”

“Oh, habibi.” You couldn’t help but croon as you had to imagine Carlos going to your brother, someone he admittedly didn’t get along with all too well and asking for help because he had stomach problems. Still, you knew Oscar wouldn’t have said anything or made jokes. No matter his feelings towards Carlos, Oscar wasn't like that. Besides, you had taught the young driver enough.

For example, to always have gastro medication. No matter what.

Carlos didn’t saying anything and you didn’t feel the need to add anything. Instead, you slowly got up from sitting on top of the covers and came to slide yourself underneath them. You brought your arm back around Carlos and resumed your comforting massage as he rested beside you, eyes closed. You, however, were sipping on your coffee, half your attention on the 90s sitcom currently playing - “I can’t believe you didn’t know it was a line!” - and the blue and grey text bubbles between you and the driver you considered your little brother.

Oscar was now asking if dinner was an option since lunch was evidently now forgone that Carlos was asleep next to you.

“I’m sorry.”

Or so you thought was asleep. You blinked, looking down at the boyfriend you thought had drifted off again.

“For what?” You said, dropping your phone and sliding down to bring your face to his. You lightly traced his face and saw the way his frown between his brows eased, his lips lifted slightly.

“Ricciardo made a joke about my contract in front of Lewis. It’s why I went out for that bike ride and posted about it.” He admitted. You bit back any of the words that immediately came to mind and how you wanted to rip into the stupidity of letting someone like Daniel Ricciardo getting to him. Sure, there was some clear bad blood but you really had hoped Carlos wouldn’t have let it get to him. Danny was just a scorned ex after all.

“If anything, I should be mad that you went to explore restaurants without me." You said lightly. "What happened to us having one couple date a weekend?”

Carlos’ eyes blinked open at that as his smile grew. You felt warmth inside you bloom seeing that beautiful, beautiful smile of his. Your phone buzzed again and you turned over to pick it up and read the message from Oscar. You snorted.

“What?” Carlos asked.

“Oscar says he hopes you feel better.”

“That’s nice of him.” Carlos said, sitting up slightly to reach over you and go for his water bottle. This made you sit up also and now you both had your backs to the headboard, sitting up in the bed.

“I think he just wants you to race so he can get payback for Spa last year.” You said. Oscar’s next text thread confirmed this and you chuckled and went to pick up your coffee to take a sip. Carlos shook his head and went back to lay his head on the pillow.

“When does this kick in?”

“The antinal?” You asked, grinning as you still couldn’t believe Carlos Sainz was using your Middle Eastern auntie’s magical cure for anything stomach related. “Maybe an hour after taking it, depending on how bad it is.” Carlos frowned and closed his eyes, shifting a lot as he tried to get comfortable back in the bed. Your grin fell slightly and you brought your hand back to his hair.

“Sleep it off, habibi.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Watch FRIENDS.” You said with a shrug.

“I was supposed to watch it.”

“Not my fault.” You sassed back. “I’ll rewatch it with you again later. You just work on fixing your stomach and I’ll read through race strategies and debrief you later in case you can race.” You paused and took a sip of your coffee. “I also need to convince Lando to come to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Since you and I haven’t had dinner and I was supposed to be with Oscar for lunch but I’m here with you.” You explained. "He's wanting dinner plans."

“He saw you all of yesterday and this morning.”

Carlos' complaints made you smile. “We’ll go out us four. You two can bond again.”

He only huffed. “When have we ever bonded?”

“When you got over yourself and asked him for antinal because you wouldn’t stop shitting?”

Carlos’ response was to reach his hand up and flick you on the nose.

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sbnslver · 4 months ago

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I Know You 𓈊⋆ ˚ Huening Kai

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bestfriend! Huening Kai x fm!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Summary: You've fallen in love with your best friend and you just can't stand it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Fluff and minor angst!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Author's note: First TXT fic here 😼

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Masterlist

---

The movie had been playing for at least an hour already. To you there was just a blur of colors and mumbled words. You had no idea what was going on, not when he was so close to you. Unaware of the effect he had on you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. Sitting next to him, you were aware of your own breathing and the fact that your heart was practically beating outside of your chest. Secretly hoping that he was oblivious to the state that you were in.

“Are you tired? We can shut it off for the night,” a warm voice interrupts your thoughts as you are suddenly brought back to reality. Kai looks at you, worry etched on his face.

“Huh? What–no I’m totally into it,” you adjust yourself on the couch pretending like you’ve been paying attention all along.

“Oh yeah? Then what just happened?”

“Uhm well you know the killer just killed someone.”

“Wrong. They actually just defeated him.” He turns his whole body so that he’s completely facing you. “Hey..are you feeling okay? You know you can talk to me right?” Kai reached for your hands that had been resting in your lap and slowly rubbed his thumbs over the back of them bringing you some comfort.

Feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at the feeling of his touch you immediately stiffen and retreat your hands. “Really Kai, I’m okay,” you offer a small smile his way and place your hands back in your lap ignoring the hurt look on his face.

He looks unconvinced but he tries to move past the nagging feeling that something is wrong. “Well it’s pretty late, do you wanna just stay over? The guys will be home late. I don't think they’ll mind, they never have before.”

You hesitate. Thinking back to how just watching a movie with him made you feel like you were about to combust, you’re not sure that you can handle sleeping over. Even if in the past you’ve done it dozens of times. Ever since you’ve realized that you’ve liked Huening Kai more than a friend thanks to Beomgyu, you can barely handle being in the same room as him. “Actually I think I’m just going to go back to my place, I appreciate you offering though Kai,” you offer a smile.

“Oh–okay..” Kai looks down at his hands as you begin to gather your things. “Y/N, are you..sure you’re okay? I didn’t do anything wrong did I?” He looks up at you from his position on the couch, worry clear in his eyes.

You ignored the guilt rising in your chest and swallowed hard. “Of course not. You were right I’m just tired,” You turn away from and continue to gather your things. Kai remains silent. “Okay..well I’m going to go.” The air was awkward around you both not sure of what to say to fix it.

“Oh yeah...well get home safe..Y/N,” Kai is stiff he sits on the couch not moving and not meeting your eyes as you move towards the front door.

“Goodnight Kai,” you smile at him even though he refuses to look at you. You feel an immense amount of guilt knowing that it’s most likely because of you that he is acting the way that he is. Kai is ridden with worry and concern for you racking his brain for anything that could’ve gone wrong throughout the night.

As you’re walking home you decide that it would just be best if you avoid Kai for a while while you sort out your feelings for him. No longer wanting to put him through unnecessary situations that would make him feel uncomfortable much like one tonight just because you can't get a grip. You begin to recall your conversation with Beomgyu from just last week…

---

“Y/N are you serious? You seriously don’t think that you like Kai?” Beomgyu looked at you like you had grown a second head. You two had been playing a game together while everyone else was out getting food. Beomgyu let out a groan as the words “you lose” display across his screen. “I mean seriously have you seen the way you two are? You’re practically a couple already, it’s sick.”

“Start the game and are you serious? We’ve been friends for 8 years and if I haven’t liked him yet I don’t think I ever will. Platonic friends exist, you know.” You roll your eyes, smashing buttons on the controller eyes not leaving the screen. “Also what’s wrong with the way we are? So we’re a little cuddly. I mean we are close, I don’t see the issue.”

Beomgyu pauses the game and gets up, putting his face right in front of yours. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“We are platonic friends, whatever is going on between you and Kai, that sure as hell is not platonic.” His hands are on your shoulders shaking you slightly. “Think about it, could you cuddle with me on the couch during a movie? Sleep in my bed and wake up tangled in each other's arms? Spend every second of every day with me?”

As you look at Beomgyu it’s almost as if alarms start sounding in your head. You push Beomgyu away and jump up from the couch. “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?” You exclaimed looking at him in horror. “Beomgyu..I think I like Huening Kai.”

“You think?!”

---

You laugh as you think back now. How could you be so oblivious? The signs were all there. Huening Kai is the only person you wanted to see everyday. He’s the one you seek out to be with in any social situation. Pretending to be asleep when you stay over just so you can be in his arms even if it’s for a second longer. Tracing his eyelashes and admiring how beautiful he looks when he’s asleep. Lingering looks at his lips just wondering what they would feel like against yours…

As you unlock your front door your phone buzzes in your pocket revealing a text from Huening Kai.

Huening - Let me know when you’re home >3<

God you love him. How could you not when he’s so unapologetically him.

---

You wake up the next day feeling more exhausted than when you went to sleep. You spent the entire night tossing and turning the only thing or person occupying your mind was Kai.

You reach for your phone seeing you’ve received another text from the man of the hour.

Huening - Want to go to this new cafe I found? I’ll buy 🙂‍↕️

You stare at the text hovering over the keyboard before shutting your phone off and tossing it aside. You couldn’t. Not until you’re able to be yourself around him and not some nervous wreck.

Instead of dwelling on this any longer you decide to throw yourself into work that you’ve been letting pile up. You put on headphones and blast music allowing time to escape you as you sit in front of your laptop working away.

---

You have no idea how long it’s been since you’ve started working but you notice the sun is going down. You stretch your arms above your head and rub your eyes. You close your laptop and move to grab your phone which you haven’t looked at since this morning. Expecting nothing you're surprised to see that your phone has been blowing up since this morning with not only texts and calls from Huening Kai but also texts from the rest of the boys.

Huening - Hellooo? Did you want to go? :(

Huening - Y/N?

Huening - Are you mad? Please tell me what I did?

Huening - y/n? :(

He had called you a total of 10 times. Guilt started to eat away at you. You definitely weren’t expecting this when you decided not to text back and this was certainly not what you wanted. Continuing to go through your missed messages you read the ones from the boys.

Beomgyu - Hey did Kai do something?

Beomgyu - You better text him back dude cuz he’s really freaking out

Soobin - Hey Y/N is everything okay between you and Kai?

Yeonjun - Please answer Kai he won’t stop whining 😭

Taehyun - Is everything alright with you?

Without thinking you grab your shoes, put them on and run out your front door towards Kai’s house. It didn’t matter how late it was or how much of a mess you look like, you couldn’t bear the thought of him being upset because you decided to be selfish. You arrive at his house knocking incessantly until someone answered. It was Yeonjun.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Did you run here? You’re all sweaty.”

You ignore his questions. “Where's Kai?”

Yeonjun widens his eyes at your worried tone. “He’s in his room. Last he told us he said he was going to bed. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah I just...need to talk to him.” You move past the boys in the living room practically running to Kai’s room not paying any attention to the bewildered looks from the boys.

“I need to see this,” Beomgyu laughs slowly following behind you peeking from around the corner. “You’re all about to owe me 20 bucks.”

You raise your hand to knock on his door hesitating slightly. You swallow and softly knock.

“I said I wasn’t hungry Taehyun, I’m going to sleep” His tone sounded groggy and soft not his usual cheery and excited tone that you’ve grown to love.

“Kai? It’s me..can I come in?” You hear shuffling from the other side of the door and then slowly the door knob turns revealing a disheveled Huening Kai. He looks at you for just a second before engulfing you in his arms. His head instinctively tucking itself in the crook of your neck breathing in your scent. Your arms stay at your side, your body going into overload at the sudden intimacy. He’s warm and smells like he always does. Your eyes close and you take in the closeness and warmth he is bringing.

“Wait.” Your eyes shoot open and you push him away keeping him at arm's length. “Kai I–”

“Y/N?” You look up at him to see his face full of hurt. He’s confused and hurt and it’s all your fault. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean–”

“No!” He jumps at your sudden outburst. “Sorry it’s not you…it’s me.” You look down at your feet unable to meet his gaze.

“Please just talk to me…I can’t stand this.” He puts his hands on your cheeks forcing you to look at him. “I tried to ignore it, I really did but I know you and I know when something’s wrong. You’ve been pulling away from me all week..why?” He’s looking in your eyes almost as if he’ll find the answer that he’s been looking for. You look at him and see all his hurt and pain he's feeling.

“Kai I just–” You look into his eyes. “I don’t think I can say it.” You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that are threatening to fall. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You can tell me…anything you know this.” You feel his thumbs wipe away stray tears that have fallen. “You’ll never lose me…I’m yours…forever.” You open your eyes to see him still looking at you with that same intensity.

You couldn’t do it. You just had to know…you crash your lips against his losing the internal battle you’ve been fighting you finally gave in. Your lips move against his. His lips soft and warm, everything you dreamed they would be. Realization slowly starts to seep in you also notice that he’s not kissing you back. You pull away and taking in his wide eyed gaze.

“Kai I’m–” You’re mortified. “I’m so sorry but I just…couldn’t help myself.” You look at him. “You’re all I think about day in and day out. I can’t pretend that everything between us is completely platonic, not when you make me feel so many things.” You grab his cheeks in between your hands forcing him to stay by your side. Preventing him from escaping. “I am so completely in love with you.” You look at his eyes hoping and waiting for him to say something, anything. “Please…just say something.” You beg. With each passing second regret starts to fill you.

You begin to remove your hands from his face when Kai lurches forward crashing his lips on your own. You almost fall backwards, his arms wrapping around your waist preventing you from doing so. Almost immediately your eyes flutter shut and you’re kissing him back. Lips intertwining with one another breath intermingling. His hands are sliding up your shirt gripping onto your waist tightly afraid you may disappear. Your hands move to wrap around his neck tangling your fingers in his hair tugging slightly.

You feel yourself being led backwards. Not breaking the kiss Kai lays you down on his bed, him on top continuing to kiss you, slighting biting down on your lips signaling you to open your mouth as his tongue slides in meeting yours. You let out a soft sigh as you enjoy the warmth spreading throughout your body feeling like you're on fire. Kai’s movements started to get hungrier hands sliding higher under your shirt, light touches sending shivers down your spine.

Needing to get some air you pull apart a small laugh leaving your lips as you slowly flutter your eyes open to see Huening Kai with pink tinted cheeks and heavy breaths on top of you. “I’ve waited so long for a hint or anything from you. You have no idea how much I love you. How long I've been waiting to just kiss you.” He says barely above a whisper, his breath touching your face as he makes his confession.

“I love you too, Kai.” He smiles and slowly lowers his head wishing to meet your lips again.

“HAH! I told you. You all owe me.” You and Kai sit upright at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice bumping heads. You rub your head muttering an “ow”

“You guys bet on us?” You’re mortified.

“It was only a matter of time.” They all agree.

You look at Huening Kai expecting him to be annoyed but he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He kisses the top of your head. The boys are expressing their joy and being themselves wishing you congratulations. You look at Kai and see him mouth “I love you.” You smile and cuddle into his side watching as the boys continue to bicker about the bet. You and Kai settle into each other like you're the only one's in the room.

---

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sweetprfct · 11 months ago

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Is It Over Now?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what?

Author's Note: Here we go! Part 8!! Enjoy! Comments are always welcome! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, smut

Wordcount: 4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

The sound of a squeaky toy and a sudden sharp pain that you felt on your face woke you up the next morning. You shot your eyes up and found Elena standing in front of you. Her small fingers playing together as she stared at you, acting like throwing one of her squeaky toys on your face was a normal thing.

“Hey Elena.” You murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Abby quickly picked up Elena in her arms. “Elena, we don’t throw toys at people’s faces.” Abby shook her head and walked away.

You blinked your eyes, adjusting them from the light that was coming through the window. Your eyes shifted around the room and realized that you were laying on Sara and Abby’s sofa. The blur memory of you running out of the event last night and the thought of not knowing where you could go, you slowly remembered crashing at Sara and Abby’s place.

Mascara stained tears on your face and your strappy heels in your hand as you knocked on their front door at midnight. You knew bothering them was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had nowhere else to go, and you definitely didn’t want to go back to your flat after what happened at the event. After a few knocks on their door, you figured they were asleep already, especially with having Elena now. So, you sat on their front steps and quietly sobbed. Your hands on your face as you tried to make sense of everything that happened.

Joe kissed you.

You kissed Joe.

“I want this to be real.” Joe’s voice echoed in your mind.

You gazed up at the starry night sky and asked the Universe as to why you were put into this situation. Why was it so difficult for you to accept someone good in your life? Why was it whenever you tried to let go, you kept moving a step back? Why were you so terrified? Usually, you’d blame your own mother for being so cold to you all your life and the fact that you grew up seeing her marriage fail miserably but as you thought about Joe, this wasn’t your mother’s fault anymore.

This was your own doing. You were an adult now, and you have been blaming your mother for all the fears that you had, but you didn’t have to. You had your own choice, your own life, and your own decisions. You weren’t like your mother. Joe wasn’t like your father, who would pick fights. You were your own person, and you were the one who kept making these shitty decisions in your life.

Hearing quiet footsteps from the inside, you looked over your shoulder and saw the lights illuminated the house through the window. The front door was unlocked, and Sara stood in her silk robe with Abby standing right behind her.

“Hey.”

As soon as you got up from the steps, Sara’s eyes widened from the image of you. You were barefoot, your dress was all wrinkled, and your mascara was basically melting on your face. Before she could say something, you immediately ran to your best friend’s arms in embrace. Sara was taken aback for a moment as Abby gave her a concerned look. This wasn’t like you. Sara knew there was something terrible that happened if you were the one who initiated the hug. Abby softly rubbed your back as they both comforted you, closing the front door and letting you inside the house.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sara rubbed your back softly as you sobbed on her shoulder.

“I fucked up.” You whispered through your sobs.

“Let me get you some tea.” Abby said, walking away from the both of you.

Sara led you into the living room and settled you on the sofa, wrapping a throw blanket around your shoulders. You set your high heels down on the floor and pulled the blanket close to your chest. Your body was trembling from the cold and all the emotions that you were feeling.

“Here.” Abby handed you the cup of tea before sitting next to Sara, rubbing her arm softly.

“Thanks. I’m sorry I came here so late.” Another tear rolled down your cheek. “I… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“What happened?” Sara asked.

“Joe and I kissed.” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your hand. “I fucked up.”

“Hey, come here.” Sara pulled you into her embrace as you wrapped your arms tightly around her.

“We can talk about this tomorrow. You need to rest.” Sara murmured.

“Yeah, you look so exhausted.” Abby pursed her lips, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Okay.” You sniffed, pulling away from Sara’s arms.

Abby gave you a small sad smile as she softly rubbed your back. Eventually, the two women handed you a pillow and a blanket. Leaving you alone on the sofa, you stared at the dark empty nothingness in front of you, repeating the events of the night in your mind. Brushing your lips softly with your fingers, you remembered Joe’s lips on yours and how soft they were.

“Are you alright?” Sara asked, snapping you back in reality.

You nodded your head, sitting up on the sofa and found Sara standing in front of you with two cups of tea in her hands. She handed you one and sat next to you, settling herself comfortably on the sofa.

“Sorry about last night.” You took a sip of your tea.

“Don’t worry about it. Abby and I were pretty worried about you. What happened?”

Letting out a sigh, you explained to Sara exactly what happened last night and all the emotions that you have been feeling towards Joe. Though, it wasn’t something you expected at all because why would Joe even waste his time on you since he has been trying to get Ivy’s attention this whole time? You explained to Sara how you have been telling yourself over and over again that it was all because you two had a few drinks and maybe, Joe was just tipsy and wasn’t thinking right. At the same time, the words he told you, you couldn’t get it out of your mind.

“Have you ever thought that maybe Joe doesn’t feel that way about Ivy anymore?” Sara asked.

“He’s so obsessed with her. There’s no way he just stopped feeling that way about her.”

“What if he never felt that way about her this whole time? What if he finally realized that?”

Abby walked back in the living room with Elena in her arms with a smile on her face.

“See, I know he had feelings for you this whole time.” Abby chimed in.

You watched as Elena reached her arms for you as you smiled and took her from Abby’s arms. You settled Elena on your lap, brushing her hair softly.

“Babe, that doesn’t matter unless she also accepts the fact that she feels the same way.” Sara told Abby.

You watched as Abby sat behind Sara and wrapped her arms around her. You gave them both a small smile before gently playing with Elena’s tiny fingers. You watched as Elena tried to put your index finger on her mouth, while you pulled it away. The sound of all your laughter echoed in the living room as you continued to play with Elena on your lap.

“You need to stop being so terrified of your feelings, my sweet.” Abby told you, making you gazed up at her with furrowed brows. “You need to accept the fact that you like Joe. That you actually feel something for him. You deserve to be happy too, you know?”

“As much as I didn’t like how this all started…” Sara rolled her eyes at the idea. “I want you to remember that you’re not like your mother nor your parents. Not all relationships will end in fire.”

“What if…” You sighed. “What if he only thinks he likes me because I’m the one who has been spending so much time with? What if he changes his mind then? I don’t want to be a rebound or his second choice just because it didn’t work out with her.”

“Maybe you really should stop running and tell Joe that.” Abby suggested. “If all of this doesn’t work out, at least you could still save your friendship.”

“Yeh!” Elena exclaimed, holding up her toy in the air as the three of you laughed.

“Even Elena agrees.” Sara laughed, poking Elena’s stomach softly, making the little girl giggle.

“Yeah? Do you?” You tilted your head at Elena and planted repeated soft kisses on her cheek as she giggled loudly, kicking her feet.

Going home later that afternoon, you were ready to try and face whatever was waiting for you back in your flat. However, as you walked down the hall, you saw the one person that you didn’t expect to see after what happened last night. Ivy exiting out of your flat and passing you by, her eyes giving you a death glare. Her hair was a mess, and she looked like she spent the night at your flat.

Suddenly, the knot in your stomach started forming again as you unlocked the door and entered the quiet flat. You found Joe picking up the extra pillow and folding the throw blanket on the sofa that you guessed Ivy probably used last night.

You couldn’t believe it.

You were ready to let Joe know how you felt about him but here he was fucking Ivy on your sofa after kissing you last night.

Was he trying to just play the both of you? Was he just lying to you last night about not being a second choice?

You didn’t believe anything he said anymore because as far as you saw, his actions were speaking louder than his words.

“Hey,” Joe said as soon as he saw you enter the flat. “Can we talk?”

Your eyes were focused on the pillows and blankets, and you didn’t know why but anger and frustration was washing over you. Joe told you all those things last night and yet, here he was with Ivy again. He just couldn’t let her go, and you didn’t want to be the collateral damage because Joe was being so indecisive about what he wanted.

“About last night…I’m not sure what happened.”

Of course, all of a sudden, he sounded like he was regretting what happened. You should have known. You should have expected this already. Joe was just like everyone else. He was the same as your father. He was the same with the many many toxic men out there. You didn’t know why you fell for him anyway. You should have seen this coming.

“No, it’s fine. I think I know what’s going on…” You cut him off, helping him out with his explanation that he was struggling to tell you. “You were caught up with everything, and you realized that it was a mistake, which is okay because I know how much you love Ivy.”

Joe knitted his brows, confused. He dropped the pillow and blanket on the sofa and walked around it.

“No,” He murmured, walking closer to you. “I mean I’m not sure what happened. What did I do for you to run away? Did I do something wrong? I thought–”

“No, you didn’t.” You cut him off again. “I… It was inappropriate, Joe.”

“How is it inappropriate if we both feel the same?”

Joe slowly took a few more steps as you felt your breath hitched, his eyes staring in yours. You were weak for him as he gently cupped your cheek with one hand. You couldn’t breathe. You felt the butterflies flutter in your stomach and Abby and Sara’s words echoed in your mind: You deserve to be happy too, you know.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Joe told you something different last night and then you found him with Ivy the next morning. So, what made his words now any different? You were left to bleed last night as he enjoyed another night with Ivy.

“I’m leaving, Joe.” You spat out the words.

“What do you mean?”

You looked away, letting his hand slip from your face as he stood there in shock. He knew that you were trying to move out, but he didn’t think he was going to lose you this fast.

“I found a new flat. I’m leaving.” You stated.

You knew it was a lie.

You haven’t even done one research for a new flat. If you had to live on the streets or crash into a hotel then so be it. You couldn’t stay in this flat any longer and face Joe. You couldn’t keep letting your emotions lead you and then get disappointed again.

“Why? Why are you running away from this?” Joe asked.

You walked around him and started making your way down the hall. “I’m not running away from anything. The plan worked and so, maybe it’s time for Ivy to move in here, and you both could finally be together.”

“Why can’t you see it?” Joe grabbed your hand, pausing you from your tracks in the middle of the hall.

You looked over your shoulder and stared at your hand with Joe’s. Your eyes met his, and he could see the anger in your eyes, but he could also see how much you were holding back from him. He stepped forward, turning your body to face him.

“Why can’t you see that I don’t want Ivy? That for a long time, I never wanted her anymore. That it’s you that I want.”

“Joe, this isn’t…” You shook your head.

You felt Joe’s thumb softly caressing the back of your hand. His face was inches from yours. You found his other hand slowly caressing your cheek, and you were slowly becoming a sinking ship, and he was the ocean.

How could he make you feel like this?

How could one touch, one stare from those chocolate button eyes could immediately make you a puddle on the floor?

“You’re never a second choice nor a rebound.” Joe murmured. “I want to be with you because I love you.”

Suddenly, your heartbeat was beating like there was a storm in your chest. Joe loves you, and you have forgotten how to breathe. You had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming and to make sure that you actually heard that right.

“Joe…” You whispered, looking through your lashes.

Your lips trembled as he softly brushed his nose against yours. His thumb softly tracing your pink lips.

“I love you so much.” Joe added. “It consumes every bone of my body every day and knowing that I couldn’t hold you in my arms, it kills me.”

Your lungs couldn’t find air, and your eyes were starting to get hazy as you felt the fire between the both of you radiated. Your hands found his wrists, gripping it on tightly, and your eyes sparkled as you stared at him. It was almost like a permission that you were giving to Joe.

A permission that you were finally letting go.

A sign that you wanted him.

That if you were to stand here one more second without kissing him, you didn’t know what you would do.

He studied the constellations in your eyes before pressing his lips against yours. This time, you couldn’t let yourself hold back. You kissed him back deeply, closing your eyes and letting every emotion that you held in for the last few months finally washed over you. His kiss sent electricity down your body and down to your toes.

This was real.

You were kissing Joe for real this time, and no one was stopping you.

Joe’s hands slowly ran down your back before finding your hips and pulled you close against him. A small moan escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. You let his tongue slide inside your mouth, earning a moan from him. You both stayed like that in the middle of the hall, Joe’s back pressed against the wall and your body pressed against his.

The world was a blur around you both until you finally pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. Joe pressed his forehead against yours, a smile creeping up on his face that made your heart skip a beat. Your fingers tugged on his shirt before you pulled it over his head. You let your eyes study his bare skin, your fingers tracing every inch of him, wondering what secrets he kept in there. What scars did he also have in his skin for him to understand and love you this way.

He didn’t say anything as his eyes followed every move your fingers did.

He was so beautiful.

Joe’s skin was hot, and he stood tall in front of you with broad shoulders. Joe’s fingers had found the zipper of your dress, and he slowly unzipped it, letting the shoulder straps fall gently from your shoulders. Pulling you close, his soft lips kissed your bare shoulder as you gasped softly. Then, his lips traced the edge of your jawline and down your neck, letting his mouth suck on the skin softly.

He was kissing away all your fears.

Kissing away all the insecurities that you have trapped inside of you.

Kissing it all away so gently.

As Joe earned another soft moan from you, he let his hands slide down the back of your thighs before helping you up and let your legs clung around his body. He walked you into his bedroom, your eyes studying the four walls. You have never crossed his boundaries before and this was your first time inside his room. You were entering his private space that you have kept yourself distant for a long time. He was letting you inside his world, and you couldn’t help but study every detail of it as he gently laid you down on his bed.

“You’re so beautiful.” Joe whispered, towering over you.

Your eyes were staring in his chocolate button eyes, your hands reaching for his cheek as you gently let your fingers brush the soft stubble that was on his face. Your eyes followed your fingers as it danced across his skin, making Joe close his eyes and enjoy your soft touch. Then, your thumb found his lips, tracing it all so softly.

He seemed so delicate, and you didn’t want to ruin him.

“I’m terrified, Joe.” You whispered.

Opening his eyes, Joe gazed down at you. His stare was pulling your heartstrings as you felt the butterflies in your stomach flutter. You have never felt like this with anyone, and it was a terrifying feeling.

You wanted this to be right.

You wanted to trust Joe.

You wanted to leap as he caught you on the bottom of this cliff.

But would he still accept you even if you were covered with past scars? Would he still love you then? Would he understand everything if you snapped yourself in half and let him see every dark corner inside of you?

Taking your hand that was on his cheek, he leaned against it before planting a soft kiss on the palm of your hand.

“I know.” He murmured. “I know it’s scary, but I want to show you how much I love you. How much you deserved to be loved and cared for. I want to understand every corner of your mind.”

He breathed heavily. A soft kiss pressed on your lips before his eyes found you again.

You didn’t know where or who you were anymore.

You were just now floating.

“I want to be the one who makes you smile and forget all those fears that you have inside. I want to make you happy.” He added.

A small smile tugged on your lips before letting your hand slip through his hair and onto the back of his head, pulling him down to you and kissing him passionately. Both of your lips moved together as you started unbuttoning Joe’s pants and slipped it off of him, throwing it on the floor along with your red silk dress.

Joe’s lips trailed down your neck and down between your breasts as he used his hand to cup one of your breasts and squeezed it lightly. He earned a small gasp from you as he smiled through your skin and sucked one of your nipples, making you moan his name out loud.

“Joe…”

You arched your back as Joe trailed his lips all the way down to your stomach and down to your inner thighs, planting soft kisses on them. He pushed both of your legs to open them wider, his finger finding your wet clit.

“Oh, darling. You’re so wet for me already.” Joe chuckled softly, letting his fingers play with your clit, earning another moan from you.

“Joe.. I—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Joe’s mouth had found you, and your body was squirming from the way he licked and sucked you. Your hands had found the bedsheets, clutching it into a fist as you let Joe eat you out until you were breathless. Towering over you again, Joe kissed your lips, tasting yourself in his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Mmm..” Joe moaned softly in your ear.

You wanted him.

You needed him.

Now.

Taking his member in your hand, you let himself slip inside of you, both of you moaning together. Joe slowly moved inside of you, his lips finding yours again, his spare hand squeezing your breast and playing with your nipple. Your hazy eyes could barely open as Joe moved faster, your walls slowly tightening around him as he let out another moan.

Kissing you deeply, your nails dug on the skin of his back, your legs trembling as you felt yourself getting close. Breathlessly, you arched your body as Joe trailed his lips on your jawline and down your neck before burying his face there.

“Ohmygod.” You whispered breathless. “Joe—!”

“Let go, darling. Come for me, love.” He whispered as he moved deeper inside of you, your walls tightening around him even more.

Not a minute later, both of your bodies trembled as orgasm washed over the both of you at the same time. Loud moans echoed around his room as you both tried to catch your breaths. Finally opening your eyes, you saw Joe gazing down at you with a small smile on his face. He gently brushed the strand of your hair that was sticking on your forehead before planting a soft kiss there.

“I love you.” He murmured those three little words again.

They were only three little words but how come it always made you forget the world around you? It was like a switch that turns on inside of you, and you were just in your own little world with Joe.

But you couldn’t say anything. There was still something that was holding you back, and it wouldn’t be fair to him. Although, Joe wasn’t in a hurry for you to say it back. He knew how much you struggled facing your real feelings, and he never wanted to press you on that. Laying next to you, Joe pulled his duvet covers over you and pulled you close next to him. As you laid your head on his bare chest, you closed your eyes and repeated those three little words again.

Joe loves you.

But the thought of Ivy being here with him last night was still making you struggle inside your mind. You wanted to believe him because you felt the same for him, but how could you? You just fucked your flatmate and the man that you have been pretending to be your boyfriend for months. He was telling you those three little words, and you couldn’t help but scold at yourself for having a hard time believing it.

Joe loves you.

You love Joe.

So, what the fuck was the problem?

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imayfeel · 1 year ago

Text

I'm in love with a dying man.

;; Morally Grey, Mortician, Yand! Husband. Tender, Prone to physical harm, Househusband/wife! Reader. Opposites dynamic. Mentions of bodily harm [Both variables], not intentional wounds [Reader]. Unethical thought process. Hinted insomniac reader. NSFW. Unprotected sex. Genitalia [Of Reader] unmentioned. Hinted dacriphilia. Hinted breeding kink.

He is a reasonable man, he thinks. Right and wrong, good and bad, pious and sinful; all are considered mere words of the English language to him— adjectives with no purpose but to describe actions. They hold little to no true significance towards what actions should be done, he thinks. He holds little consideration towards what the general population would consider something to be done, and in turn what is not to be done.

He is not so immersed in narcissist beliefs, in the thought process of 'what I say must be correct, for no one besides me holds any worth', he was not so much of a vain man to think so. In contrast, he did not like such people either. He merely did, and if what he did evoked reactions, pleasant or unpleasant (or perhaps none at all?), it simply weighed no burden on him. The clock will still tick, day will still submerge into night, night will bleed into day, and the seasons will go on.

Some may consider him to be a nihilist. Whilst the thought of it may be logical, he could not find himself agreeing; for one detail. He could not care of his actions, nor the consequences they may evoke (unless they were to affect him or present to him tiring obstacles), if it was not for his spouse. His spouse, who laid heavy in the backs of his minds— who's image he could not cast away whenever he were to do even the smallest thing.

It is something he finds could drive a man insane. The constant nagging thought that reverberates inside the depths of his mind, what would they do in this situation?—

But he is not a fool. Anyone in the town could call him many things, but a fool is not one of them. His spouse has the opposite nature of him, much different, much less brutal. With each daily experience, he may think of what they would have done in his place, and he imagines it easy. It flows into his mind especially well, the image of their all-too-eager tendency to jump to help anyone who seems to be in need. He is also aware that, with them being unlike him, he is also consequently unlike them. Despite what he feels— knows— what they would do, it is not in his nature to help.

He continues walking calmly along the stone pavement, thick cigar hanging from his lips, the rain pouring down harder— he stays within the confinements of his mind, paying no attention to the intruding splatters of cold rain seeping through his long black coat, down to his work suit. The droplets harshly fall off of his thick black hair, crashing almost dutifully against the ground. It is not until he passes by the small flower shop that he is brought to the real world, that he becomes conscious of his surroundings. It is late at night, though not late enough for the roads to be completely silent just yet, but even still it would be around the closing times for most stores. He lifts the cigar away from his mouth, blowing out the smoke into in the cold night air.

He thinks to his spouse, likely waiting for his return in their home, but he also looks back to the shop. He lets out a sigh, putting out the cigar as his hand grips the handle of the door and steps in, his dark eyes narrowing as they adjust to the blinding (and in his perspective, annoying,) white light of the store. The worker, an assumed part-timer, seemed to have been in the midst of preparing to shut the store soon, her head snapping up almost immediately upon the sound of the bell ringing. The sweeping of the broom stops, and she smiles, far too bright for him to stomach (a shocking revelation for him, considering the field of work he partakes in). She prepares to speak, her lips parting—

"Closed?" He asks, though his tone seems to have been more of an observation, but loud enough for her to have taken initiative of replying to. His voice is heavy and almost overbearing, with a gravelly brutality to it, but a man who rarely speaks (a man who has little words to speak) has no use for a soft voice or pleasing tone.

Caught off guard, but still smiling happily, she responds, "Not quite yet, fortunately enough. What are you looking for?" She has the typical politeness of a worker, but something about her evokes an unpleasant feeling within him. Her voice is too high pitched and bouncy. Her smile is much too harsh and wide, for what a smile should be.

His spouse is not like that, no. It would be even insulting to say so, to assume they had anything in common. His spouse had a quiet voice, the type to lull a person to sleep, the voice that was only ever soft and pleasant to hear. They could say anything with that voice of theirs, and he would, in a trance, nod along. Their smile was the same, never quite gone and always comforting, whether it be a full smile or the slightest upturn of their lips.

But, simply from looking at her, he can get a read on her character, even from this small interaction. He could almost laugh. It is interesting how a mortician can read a person despite working with the dead. She looks to be the sort of person who talks your ear off, he thinks. The type to tell you of the past 15 years of her life on the very first conversation. Why is she smiling? What is she so happy about? He could never understand, why do people find themselves happy when surrounded by weeds and greeneries? Stop smiling.

People say that when a person smiles, that is them at their loveliest. Only his spouse looks lovely when they smile. And it only made sense for his spouse to be happy around flowers and plants and trees, because only his spouse grew the prettiest and most pleasant ones.

Upon hearing her question, he pauses. What is he looking for? He.. wasn't sure. He saw flowers. He walked in. He thinks, and after a beat, he answers. ".. Anything. Flowers. A plant. Something you can keep growing in a garden." His words are short and kept that way, forever straight to the point.

The worker nods understandingly, "Not a bouquet or something to put in water, I take?" She tries to confirm, to which he gives a nod of his head. The nod sends a few more droplets of water to fall onto the tiles of the ground, she notices this, laughing a little, "My, you're soaked. Such harsh rain is not to be taken so lightly." She speaks, with a friendly and joking tone, one which he has no patience for. He merely nods once more, ".. Indeed."

She takes him through the store, pointing out a variety of things, to which he merely nods or gives a word of understanding. He is barely listening to her, merely following behind her a few steps away, his eyes wandering from item to item. His eyes settle on multiple clear boxes in the wall, each with a different mix of what he can only understand are herbs or flower petals. He stops, and the woman hears the steps stop too, prompting her to turn around. As she turns and notices where he's looking, she smiles, "Types of herbal tea. They have different uses, it's amazing how many uses plants and flowers can actually have! You just boil some water, put some of the mix in, stir, and .."

He drowns out her voice, lost in thought as he analyses the clear boxes and their contents. Different uses? He wonders. As the woman keeps on rambling, he cuts her off, "What uses do they have?" He asks. She flinches a little as he speaks up and stops her speaking, looking apologetic and flushing a little from embarrassment as she realises she had spoken a bit much, ".. Many. Some are for cholesterol, some for reducing stress, treating nausea, helping you to sleep, have antioxidants.. " She lists with a little shrug.

His ears catch on when she mentions them being able to improve sleep, "The one meant for sleep." He states, his eyes flicker to her. She perks up at realising that he was interested in buying. "Then, I'll get you a pack," she says, "we keep the packaged versions behind the counter."

She turns back around and walks across the store to return to the counter, prompting him to follow and stand in front of the counter as he waits. As she rummages around, he lifts his wrist slightly to check his watch, carefully keeping track of his time. They should be getting ready for bed now, he thinks. He would like to see them before they did, though, he did not like to worry his spouse. As he stares at the ticking hands on the watch, he's brought back to reality as the woman places the small bag of herbs on the counter and notices, "You have very rough and scarred hands," she notes, before realising what she had said, "ah— um, pardon me, not that it is a bad thing. I tend to speak without thinking." She explains, in an attempt of apologising.

Nothing like his spouse, he thinks. Though, he wonders, although after a long moment of silence, ".. Do you think my hands are injured?" He asks, his voice flat. She blinks. "Well.. I suppose, yes." She says, a little timid.

He smiles, "You should see my spouse."

The smile is gone as fast as it came, not that it was much of a smile to begin with. Not comforting or kind, as a smile commonly is, nor did it bring any warmth to his features. If you had blinked the moment his lips turned upwards, when you had opened your eyes, it would be as if he did not smile in the first place.

It was not that she was wrong. His hands were large, with thin scars littered across both the palm and top of his hands. Some lighter than others, some darker, some deeper, some mere surface level scratches. The skin of his palms were rough, strangely so.

She blinks again. Then again. Then again. But by the time she gathers her thoughts, he had already moved on from that, asking for the price. In return, she had also quickly, subconsciously, switched topics along with him. "This is the medium sized bag, so it would only be XX, though we have been trying to enforce a small sale on certain things, so it would reduce to.. XX?" She offers, to which he merely reaches into his pocket to retrieve his black, leather wallet. This reminds of something, "Ah, did you not want something that could be planted as well? If you're still interested, there are a few sprouts that could easily be placed in new soil within a pot or garden to be grown much, much larger!"

Her offer makes him pause. It seems ideal. He speaks, ".. Get me it." To which she nods and soon has both of the items packed in a small and brown paper bag. Ignoring her call as he walks out of the store to return sometime and have a good day, he's out once more. The rain has not stopped its downpour, only continuing in their dispense. He barely takes any notice of it. He needs to get home, he thinks. It is late, a little later than he would prefer. Later than he would like to be home.

The paper bag is practically soaked through, too, as he finally reaches closer to his destination. The town was a quiet and dreary place, often dark and dull, with wuthering winds and all too often storms. But they brought him in more work, so perhaps he should have been more grateful towards the disastrous weathers. Him and his spouse had moved here during a time which felt like many decades ago, but truly was only a few years, when they were new to marriage.

The corners he turns are becoming more and more familiar as he grows closer. He nears with each step. He then eventually is stood outside of the door, clicking the key into the socket of the small home as he creaks the door open, silent and swift. He stares inside, stepping in after a beat.

His spouse is there. With their back turned towards him, their focus on the oven in front of them, as they appear to be baking something. The atmosphere is warm and pleasantly quiet, a stark contrast to the outside world, with its pouring rain and dull, grey sky. There is a soft lamp lit, along with a couple of candles, illuminating the space with a comforting warm look. His spouse hums to themselves as they continue on, not noticing his presence just yet. He does not rush to let himself be known. He waits, taking his time to watch from afar.

He watches, even as his spouse lightly hums to themselves as they continue on, the plain white apron they were wearing curving around their figure softly, tightening even more so from every little action. He watches, leaning against the doorway, as his spouse seems to have accidentally made contact with the searing hot metal within the oven with their bare hand. He watches as they flinch and let out a soft gasp, dropping the utensil they were holding. He watches, as they turn and bend over to pick it back up, before flinching once more when they notice him out of their peripheral view. He watches, and his throat goes dry, as their surprised expression softens into a gentle smile.

They speak his name in greeting, quiet and polite, but never has his name ever held so much weight before. His dark eyes flicker down towards his spouse's hands, going over each small scratch and bruise and minor cut, all adorned with bandages and plasters of their fitting. The burn was a new one, pink and tender and likely painful, but even so, his spouse smiles at their husband. He sees their eyes soften as they look over his soaked appearance, taking small light steps towards him before taking the coat off of him and hanging it up. They turn back to him, with a small and gentle, but he could tell worried, smile.

His spouse smiles so much, so, to most, it may seem like the same smile being used over and over again, repeated throughout their life. But he knows much better. He knows that their smile links to the look in their eyes, the slight tremble of their eyebrows, the smallest twitch of their fingers, he easily reads their emotions despite their attempts of a mere comforting smile.

They turn back towards him, one of their hands reaching upwards towards a lock of his curly and black (also, dripping) hair. "You're soaked. Did you not take an umbrella? You could have caught a cold." They speak. If it was someone else to have said this, they may have come off as nagging. If it was someone else who was to try touch him, he may have abruptly pulled away in disgust from being in contact with another living creature. He hated mankind, hated its ugliness, hated how bothersome it was. To live in solitude is a life lived correctly, away from the two-faced and haughty civilians.

But he had never, not once, included his spouse within that large group of people (as in everyone else). Not even when they were younger, before they had gotten married, he had never once had the thought of them being a nuisance. It was a strange revelation to find himself enjoying the company of another instead of finding them to be a liability. He had never been the social type, never been the type to attract people— more-so the type to chase them away. But he had never, despite his lack of expression, his lack of sympathy or basic human emotion, they had never taken any of it as reason to leave. Though, if they did, he would have little to no reason to blame them for it.

As their hand had reached up, their fingers curling around a lock of his dark and wet hair, his hand reaches up also. His thick fingers trail across the top of their much smoother hand, the tips of them barely touching the skin and running over the edge of another plaster as he hooks his thumb in the crevice of their palm. He uses the light grip to bring their hand further towards him, letting him press a little kiss on the small burn. He merely replies, "Warm me, then."

They laugh at that. A quiet and humble thing, not at all like the squeaky and ear-bleed inducing laughter from the insignificant woman earlier. He merely watches, his fingers still around their hand. Their eyes drift towards the brown paper bag, now close to ripping due to the intense rain. He notices their shift of attention, lifting it towards them and pressing it lightly against their chest and their hands lift upwards to take hold of it by its sides. He does not speak, merely beginning to step forward, his hand still lightly around theirs— to avoid pressing down on any injuries or the burn— as he leads them along towards the sink.

They let him lead them, curiously peaking into the bag with one hand. Their eyes catch onto the "Helps with: relaxation, fatigue, restful sleep! 100% tested and proven!" tag, written in small, bold letters in the corner of the packaging. They don't speak of it or mention it, merely smiling quietly at the thought of the action. They notice the small plant as well, eyes shining. They notice the cold water spilling onto their fingers from the tap, their husband holding up their burn to the water. He's quiet, having realised that they had looked at the items, and it embarrassed him in a way.

Their smile grows as they notice his stiff shoulders, his back towards them and his eyes forward. The two of them stand still for a long and quiet moment, only the sound of the water running is heard in the silence. After a minute, they lean forward and press a small kiss to his jaw before leaning back again, their head now leaning against his broad shoulder. He does not react, his eyes focused on the water.

The water hits the tips of his fingers whilst he holds their hand up to it. He remembers the feeling of water on the day that he had proposed to them, too— though, it was less of a proposal, and more of a statement. They had still been practically children when they had wed; with him at 19, and his spouse at 18.

It had been a strange scene. In the woods, far away from either of their homes. Although, he, an orphan, did not consider himself to have a home. He remembers them, his memory exact, to have been sitting up against the thick brown oak of a tree, knees up for the flowers to lean against them. He remembers their fingers gently, yet skillfully, twisting the stems of them together into little knots and conjoining them ever so carefully.

He remembers standing in the midst of the small and cold stream, the water up to his calves and his shoes held together in one hand, hanging from his side. He stared for a long amount of time, the noise around them so silent, the noise in his mind so silent. There was little to nothing going on within his brain, feeling almost dereslized and apart from the real world inside this moment. He was not a man to speak without thinking, and neither was his spouse, but his mind failed him. The words had left his lips before he had the chance to process—

"Let's get married."

Even after he had spoken the words, his mind was still in turmoil. He had not the chance to react before his, soon-to-be (at the time), spouse had turned their head towards him with their soft smile and given him a tiny nod of agreement.

He had been dumbfounded. Not once before in his life had he ever felt so lost in his thoughts and emotion, as it typically was the case of the lack thereof, but this time, it was the opposite. The emotion was much too strong and complex. He had not spoken a word after that, and neither did they. He had laid awake in bed that night, his mind full of different thoughts, yet at the same time, nothing at all— I am going to marry them.

It was a small marriage, but not unexpected of two children either. He had no family nor friends to invite, and, despite being well loved within the town, neither did his spouse. The marriage had been the talk of the town for weeks, and probably had continued to have gone on even after the two of them had moved to this town. Someone who had little to no involvement, who was avoided and barely even known, marrying someone who was every elderly person's favourite, who did not complain or grow annoyed no matter how many tasks the locals bashfully asked for them to complete?— "What a shame for such a bright child! A miracle if it were to last above a year!"

It was not like they were wrong, either. He was aware of how golden they were, of how the children rushed to play with them, of how people greeted them with "Good morning!" or "Good afternoon!" at each turn. Though, what use did it have, when at the end of the day, when both of them had snuck out to meet one another, it was him who's shoulder they had put their head on and quietly spoke of how lonely things were, even in the loud town.

The town was small, but a place which involved themself into the business of all others. A place which he disliked since childhood, and neither of them had much to miss there. He was glad they had moved, this town was much more quiet, much less chatty and arrogant. Though, even here, his spouse was loved dearly by the neighbourhood children, would politely converse with their neighbours, would be seen as a regular at the small bookstores and gardening shops. It was amusing, even, seeing townsfolk try to hide their stares as they ask themselves, "That man is their husband?", seeing the local children ask his spouse if they really were married, and who to, then shrinking away at meeting his eyes.

Still, here, they lived quietly, in a small home where he was sure they were free to enjoy whatever pass times and hobbies they enjoyed. Where he did not have to worry too much for them, knowing that they would be there when he returned home each day.

He's brought back to reality as he notices the raw pink flush of the tender skin gradually going down, switching off the tap and opening a cabinet to reach for bandages. He places one hand on their hips, bringing them in front of him so that their back is pressed against his front. He wraps the bandage around the burn before cutting it off with scissors. His eyes flicker down towards the flesh that connects their neck and shoulders, unable to hide the constant underlying emotion of desire that he represses within him whenever he merely glanced or thought of them.

He leans his head down and presses a kiss there. Then another. Then another. And then he is pressing multiple kisses to their neck.

He was not a man who necessarily had much need for hedonistic activities such as sex. But it changed dramatically whenever it came to his spouse. Especially as he hears the soft sigh drawn from their lips at the sensations, as they melt into him and he feels more of their weight leaning back on him. It isn't long before his tongue starts tracing over the flesh, his teeth digging in ever so slightly, his hands travelling. And by the way they were reacting, their long lashes fluttering slightly, eyes shut as their head leant back, he took it as yes.

It was not long before he had his large arms hooked beneath their knees, hands resting on the pillow on either side of their head, his cock buried deep inside of them. Their knees are folded towards their chest in a mating press, their nails dug deep into his broad back, scratching almost violently as he fucks them brutally—

They married a brutal man, after all.

Perfect like this, he thinks. The only time he can see them unravel, the only time he thinks they could bring themselves to every physically harm someone, as he feels the burning of the scratches on his back. It was amusing, even, to see them fret the night after over the almost animalistic marks.

As if they did not notice their own body was covered in bites and marks. He drags his lips over their neck, his teeth sinking in as he leaves a love bite, making them flinch. "Nnh.. W— Wait—" They protest, although in vain. His tongue runs down and over their collarbone, down to their chest. His tongue flicks one of their nipples before grazing it with his teeth, making them shiver and let out a whine. All the while, his hips meet theirs repeatedly, his thick cock pounding into their warm and soft insides.

It's maddening, just how soft and warm it all is in this moment. Their bare flesh pressed against him, their tears of ecstacy, their nails dug into his flesh. He presses his lips to their cheek, kissing the tears as his tongue swipes against their hot and wet cheeks. They look so perfect, he thinks, crying for him. The only way he prefers them crying, with their mind foggy from pleasure.

And soon, he can feel his own climax rising too. He mutters, "Seem to be getting along with those neighbourhood kids so well, makes me want to give you one of your own." He can't even tell how much of it is teasing and how much of it is him speaking from what he subconsciously wants. With one last thrust, his thick and hot cum had filled them up, before he had pulled out to watch the scene before him.

Perfect, he thinks again. Their legs shaky, their half-lidded eyes glossy with tears, their chest and neck littered with all sorts of bloody bites and hickeys, his cum dripping from their pretty hole. The sight was enough to tempt him into a second round, and a third, and a fourth. He had all the libido in the world when it came to his spouse to fuck; all night if they had merely said the word, and once they did, he would be unable to stop. A brutal man he is, but also one which when left unrestrained, would not be restrained.

He was a tall man, at 6 foot 3, paired with a strong and broad physique and long lasting stamina. His back, torso, arms, all littered in scars, just like his hands as he had been previously reminded of. He was, by both nature and appearance, brooding and stoic, whilst his spouse was softer hearted. Though, despite the possibility of being able to continue on, he takes notice of the drowsy and tired out look of his beloved. His spouse was much less used to physical excursion as he was, but even so, he could not help but thrust two of his thick fingers inside of them, shoving the dripping cum back inside.

His lips whisper gruffly, his hot breath fanning over the shell of their ear, "If you can get so sleepy from me fucking you, would this not be more ideal to do every night rather than using tea or medication?"

Even so, they can't help but let out a soft sleepy protest, mind all fluffy and drifting off. He holds them close, tucking an arm beneath their back and placing another on their waist to turn them onto their side in order to hold them to his chest. He lets out a sigh as he feels them drift to sleep, and he enjoys this. He enjoys the nights they spend together, albeit that being every night. Each night, despite what had gone on during the day, they had found themselves entangled together in bed either way.

He had not felt complex emotion in many years.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #gender neutral reader #obsession #x female reader #x male reader #yandere boy #mortician #yandere mortician #oc x reader #Spotify

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mintyys-blog · 2 days ago

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SILKEN CHAINS— dark! peter parker

chapter V

The evening had finally arrived, and you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of your tight, black dress. The fabric hugged every curve of your body, showing off your cleavage and making you feel… powerful, in a way. But deep down, you knew Peter wouldn’t approve. The thought of him—his possessiveness and control over your wardrobe—nagged at the back of your mind.

He wasn’t here, though. He had been on his mission for a few days now, and he wouldn’t be back until next Friday. This was your night. Just you and Serena, a long-overdue girls’ night out. And so, you slipped into the dress and added a swipe of lipstick, determined to enjoy yourself for once without worrying about Peter’s watchful eye.

True to his word, Peter had called earlier, his voice warm and caring as always. “Have fun, sweetheart,” he’d said. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll come immediately if you do.” You had reassured him, saying you were fine. You didn’t want to worry him, especially when he was across the world, dealing with dangerous things that you didn’t fully understand. You just wanted a little bit of freedom, a moment to breathe.

Serena arrived to pick you up soon after, grinning from ear to ear when she saw you at the door. “You look amazing!” she gushed, her eyes scanning your outfit. “Let’s go have some fun!”

You laughed, feeling your nerves ease up just a little as you slid into her car. The drive to the club was filled with lighthearted chatter, music blasting from the speakers. The club came into view soon after, lights flashing, bass thumping through the air. Your heart started to race, the anticipation of the night ahead taking over.

Once inside, you made your way to the bar, ordering a couple of shots with Serena. The warmth of the alcohol spread through your body, loosening your muscles, making you feel bold. The club was alive with energy, people moving, dancing, laughing. Serena grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the dance floor, where you both swayed to the beat, letting the rhythm take over. The music was louder now, the lights flashing faster, and it felt like nothing else mattered. For the first time in a while, you felt free.

Hours passed, and you and Serena were both feeling the effects of the alcohol. More shots, more dancing. You were laughing, enjoying the night, until a man approached you. He was tall, dressed in designer clothes, his smile cocky but charming.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, “we have a VIP section tonight, and you two are invited.”

You exchanged a look with Serena. “VIP?” you asked, confused. But before you could protest, Serena was already tugging you along, eager to see where this would lead.

Inside the VIP room, two men stood waiting for you. They looked to be about five years older than you, both dressed in sharp suits, their smiles wide as they motioned for you to sit.

“This is Zane,” the first man said, indicating the one who had approached you, “and I’m Elliot.”

You sat beside Zane, feeling a twinge of unease, but you brushed it off, chalking it up to just being unfamiliar with the situation. As Zane leaned closer, you realized just how much his attention unsettled you. His hand brushed against your thigh, a little too familiar.

“I don’t bite,” he said with a smirk. But his touch made you uncomfortable, and when he leaned in closer, his hand slowly inching towards your waist, you instinctively pulled away.

“I’m married,” you said quickly, trying to explain. “I’m not interested.”

Zane scoffed, his expression turning cold. “Then why the fuck are you at a club dressed like that? In a slutty dress, throwing your ass around like you don’t care?”

The words cut through you like a knife. Your mind raced, feeling exposed, ashamed. Peter was right, you thought bitterly. My style attracts the wrong kind of attention.

Zane’s laughter only fueled the sick feeling in your stomach. He leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to touch you once more. “Come on, baby. Just have a little fun.”

In a rush of anger, you slapped him across the face, the sting of the action echoing through the room. “Don’t touch me,” you spat, pushing yourself off the seat.

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the VIP room, tears already welling up in your eyes. You found yourself outside the club, the cool air hitting your flushed face.

You pulled out your phone, quickly texting Serena to let her know you’d left. The next few moments were a blur as your emotions swirled inside you. You needed Peter. He was the only one who could make you feel safe right now.

With a shaky breath, you dialed his number, your heart pounding in your chest. The phone rang once, then twice, before you heard his familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Peter said, sounding cheerful at first, but you could hear the shift in his tone when he realized something was wrong.

“Peter…” you sniffed, trying to keep yourself together. “I…I’m at the club, and some guy…he won’t leave me alone. He made some comments, and I just… I don’t know what to do.” Your voice cracked, the tears threatening to fall.

There was a long pause before Peter spoke, his voice suddenly colder, more serious. “Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

You gave him the address, and there was a shuffle on the other end of the line before he responded. “Happy will be there in twenty minutes. Stay on the phone with me until he gets there, Y/N. Understand?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity, but eventually, Happy pulled up in front of the club, and you waved him over. You quickly let Peter know, and he told you again to call him when you got home.

“I will,” you promised.

As Happy drove you back to your house, he barely said a word. His voice was low when he explained that he worked for Tony Stark and that Peter was a good friend of his. You appreciated the quiet. The night had already been overwhelming enough.

When you got home, you said goodbye to Happy and stepped inside. You kicked off your heels, exhausted both physically and emotionally. You made your way upstairs, collapsing onto the bed, phone still beside you.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and before you knew it, you were in a deep sleep, oblivious to the missed calls from Peter.

#avengers #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #spider man #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #happy #Tony stark #marvel x reader #dark fic #the avengers

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ineffable-dads · 2 years ago

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Don't Wait Up

Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Dads, Light Angst, Mentions of Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Crowley, Child!OC

Ineffable Dads Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!

Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!

Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.

Word Count: 1.9K

Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score.

She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up. The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.

His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.

He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.

It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.

That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.

With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. No point in pretending to read. She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.

Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.

“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”

She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs. The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.

“Dear, are you alright?”

Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing. She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.

Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.

“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”

“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.

“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”

He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.

“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”

“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.

“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk. What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”

He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.

“Belle what have I told you about lying?”

“You do it all the time.”

He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”

“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame. “Now that is completely off the subject.”

There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.

He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”

Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good. For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him.

A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.

There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out. He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.

“What happened,” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly. “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”

The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”

“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear. I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”

Crowley nodded. “Right, best let me take the lead.”

“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.

“Tough love.”

He then turned his attention up the stairs.

“Izz! I’m coming up!”

It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered. And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.

“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”

“No!”

“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”

He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.

Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.

“That’s not fair!” she shouted.

“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion. Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human. It’s a very human thing to do. Now can’t I just cry?!”

It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one.

Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her. He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “There, there, it will be alright.”

Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.

“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.

She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke. I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”

“What joke was that?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Isabelle,” Crowley said.

That got both their attentions.

Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.

The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.

“It was all a joke,” she said quietly. “Thomas asking me out. It was all a joke.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.

“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did. After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner. So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”

She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.

“They just thought it was really funny. I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”

The tears were flowing freely now.

“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.

“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”

She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words. Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him. He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. Just let it all out.”

Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks. His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze. Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.

Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning. She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to take a while to recover from this. She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”

“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that. You got this angel?”

“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who.

He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause. He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him. Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable dads #crowley #aziraphale #isabelle crowley #child!oc #child oc

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primamchorus · 5 months ago

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The Choice is Yours

Zegnautus Keep is a cold, cruel place of horrors running amok. Yet, it is here that the party have been led -- where they will find that which they seek. Though separated in the beginning, they have since reunited, much to the joy they could spare for it. While the Crystal is indeed a priority, all have agreed that the best thing to have done was find Prompto first.

Word Count: 1,861

Notes: More or less a preliminary to the rewrite I have in mind for my project at large. Has spoilers for Chapter 13. Bound to be tweaked and fixed in the future for whenever I get around to it in my main writing endeavors for this project. Also, it's largely Primam- and Prompto-focused, so likely going to work on having less bias in the future pending.

Mechanical whirrs filled the air as Noctis hurriedly pressed buttons on the console to free Prompto from the device he had been made prisoner of. All the while, Primam had been near the device that held him, her hands held out in futile effort to concentrate her ice magics to at least soothe the swelling. With the magic nullifier that shrouded the area, however, Primam could only curse as she stayed close, soft ‘I’m sorry’s falling from her lips as she and Ros could do nothing to ease his pain.

When finally the cuffs retracted with a harsh electronic buzz and freed Prompto, he would have fallen to the cold metal ground had Primam not immediately hurried in and buckled with him to break his fall. Her arms were loosely acting as braces for him as Prompto hesitantly sat back after righting himself, uttering a pained “... Sorry…” to her.

Of course, there was plenty of concern from everyone else to go around.

“Hey--You alright?” Gladio stepped forward.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” Ignis leaned down, his hand starting to reach out with some trepidation despite not being able to see.

“Give him room to breathe…” Ros said, already digging in his belongings for a potion, or anything that could have at least taken the edge off.

“I-I’m fine.” Prompto breathed, biting back on his gasps of pain that so wanted to come out. Primam could feel him shudder under her touch, her expression of worry and concern ever lingering as she watched him and kept a hand on him.

“Thank you, Noct…” Prompto slowly looked over toward Prim as well as he adjusted to sitting on his knees. “And you, too… Prim… Everyone…”

There was a silence that fell as Prompto looked down at his hands in his lap, his brow furrowing and lips pursing. Much and more was on his mind as his eyes darted from his hands to his knees.

To the floor.

To what he could see of Primam.

To Noctis’ boots.

Then back to his hands.

“Tell me…” Prompto finally managed, voice still trembling with the emotional turmoil he had been tortured by still yet. He looked up at everyone, that pain of something far deeper than that of physical discomfort evident in his expression. “Were you guys worried about me?”

“Of course we were,” Noctis replied without hesitation. His tone was surprisingly gentle considering everything from before that weighed on him. “What kind of question is that?”

For a moment, Prompto’s lips parted, and he looked at everyone who was there, standing around him. Childhood friends, and friends made along the way as Prompto spent more and more time with Noctis and the Arms of the King from their schooldays onward. They were there for him…

At least, that was what was said. The nagging feeling at the back of Prompto’s mind still ate away at him.

“‘Of course…’” Prompto repeated, whispering the words as the emotions threatened to break the dam that prevented the tears from welling in his eyes. He looked to Prim and offered her a nod to signal that he was fine before starting to push himself up into a standing position. Though Primam slowly removed herself, she stayed close, just in case.

“I need to hear you say it,” Prompto said, not making eye contact with Noctis for a moment.

An uneasy tension formed.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Prompto,” Noctis replied, thinking that was all there was to it.

Prompto shook his head. “I-I need you to…”

He clenched both fist and jaw for a moment, steeling himself. “I need you to tell me that I’m not a fake -- that I’m the real me.” His voice grew quiet as he then begged, “Please.”

Noctis’ expression changed, mouth falling open only slightly before he closed it and furrowed his brow. He was disappointed with himself most of all for what had happened. He looked in Primam’s direction, who seemed to have already been shooting him a nasty look… Aside from very nearly throwing their train off course, he could not blame her for what she tried to prevent.

“I--we--wouldn’t come all this way for a fake, Prompto,” Noctis slowly replied. His words were haphazard at best -- then again, Noctis never really was the best at arranging his vocabulary well. “I’m sorry… Sorry that I caused this mess for you…”

“We should…all apologize…” Gladio spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tensions were high at the time, and…none of us were acting right. Especially not when Ardyn showed up and made fools outta all of us.”

Nearing, Gladio then clapped a hand to Primam’s shoulder and shook her lightly in a friendly manner. “I already know Prim’s not going to admit it, but she tried to stop Noct. She saw right through Ardyn’s illusion magic on the train.”

“... Yeah, that…” Noctis began in response, the disappointment within himself welling further as he recalled the events. His arm was still wrapped in a bandage from where her ice shards cut into him from her fury as a result of his brash actions. “That was a thing that happened…”

Prompto looked at Primam, surprise softening his expression only somewhat. He watched her as she pursed her lips and looked away. After hearing what Gladio said -- and while he was desperate to hear anyone say it -- he now wanted to hear her say it. To validate him. To reassure him.

“A-And now? Can…can you see me? The real me?”

Primam slowly turned her head back toward Prompto, bangs falling over her face somewhat. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and she gave a slow nod. “I’ve…I’ve always been able to see you, Prompto… M-Maybe…not the parts of you that you hide… But I can see you. I see you now. You’re real… I…I know you are.”

The dam broke, and Prompto brought the back of his hand up to his eyes to wipe away the tears that formed before staggering forward and throwing his arms around Primam. She had actually said the words he wanted to hear. The words he needed to hear.

All the while, Primam could feel how his arms and body shook. It broke her heart, creating this painful pit within her chest as she wrapped her arms around Prompto in kind with no amount of hesitation.

The feeling of Primam’s arms around him was more than enough to break the dam completely as Prompto sank into her. He buckled again, pulling her to the ground with him. His breath hitched and he buried his head into her shoulder, holding her close as he choked back those sobs he had been holding in this entire time. All the pain was finally coming out, and Primam, in that moment, was a lifeline keeping all of him as together as possible.

Noctis wanted to say something. Something that could have reassured Prompto further. However, any plan that he could have thought of was thwarted as Ignis softly spoke up: “It sounds as though we should give them some space.”

There was quiet agreement between everyone as just about everyone shuffled out of the room. Ros was the only one who lingered longer than the others. Glancing behind him for a moment, he approached the two, a vial of green liquid in his hand. Primam took notice of Ros, turning her attention up at him. When Ros handed her the vial, she loosened one hand to take hold of it.

Once it was passed off, Ros took his leave, not wanting to make the situation awkward for them.

Softly, Primam spoke to Prompto, “Hey… Ros brought a potion for you. Whenever you’re ready, I can administer it…”

Prompto took in a shuddered breath and nodded. It took a couple moments for him to find his voice, but when he did, he finally said in that quiet tone: “Do it.”

Bringing her thumb over the stainless-steel button, Primam took in a breath, holding it, and closed her eyes. She clicked it, and the vial sprayed its green healing mist into the air around them. Whatever hit her exposed skin tingled with warmth.

Prompto, on the other hand, lifted his head, tilting it upward and breathing in the mist as he and Primam sat there in each other’s hold. What warmth Primam felt was a more full body experience for Prompto as the sensation ran from his nose down to his fingertips and toes. His aches and pains started to subside, little by little, as he experienced this brief high. It was enough for him, as he soon returned his forehead to Primam’s shoulder.

Once the potion ran its course, Primam let it go. She let her breath go, listening as the spent vial clinked across the floor before she returned her full embrace to Prompto. As long as he needed it, she would be there.

“Can…I ask you a question?” Prompto spoke after several more moments of silence.

“Anything.”

“... Why have you always been nice to me?” Prompto asked, his question searching for…something.

Primam’s expression softened, and she leaned her chin on Prompto’s shoulder, rubbing a hand along his back as a form of comfort.

“Because you’ve always been nice to me… Why would I want to be anything other than kind to you in turn when all you’ve ever shown me was kindness?” Primam gently replied, sincere with her words.

Another part of her heart broke at that moment. She wanted to tell him so many little things that weighed on her mind. But…she kept the rest of her heart hidden away, simply choosing to close her eyes and allow the moment to linger as long as necessary.

“You should hate me…” Prompto choked. Despite his words, his hold on Primam tightened. “You should all hate me.”

Primam reaffirmed her hold on Prompto, nestling her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t have a reason to hate you. I have every reason to love you for everything you’ve ever done for me.”

“Even if I’m the enemy?” Prompto’s voice was barely a whisper. He spoke like he wanted the faint mechanical hum of the very building to drown out his voice.

Silence lingered in the air between them. Primam tried to piece together what Prompto meant by that. Instead of pulling away, she sighed and remained. When she finally had the words, she continued to speak in her gentle manner: “If you’re the enemy, then you have me in quite the vulnerable spot, don’t you think? I would be a fool to trust you like this…and yet, I feel no knife at my back. If you’re the enemy, then prove it.”

Prompto’s breath stuttered again, and he curled his face back into Primam’s shoulder.

“... No… Don’t make me…”

“The choice is yours.”

A moment passed, and Prompto withdrew his head from Primam’s tear-stained jacket. He looked at her, eyes red. Yet, there was this look of realization on his face that was a result of her words.

The choice is yours.

“... Thank you…” Prompto said, another stuttered breath drawn as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Primam’s.

#ffxv #ffxv writing #my writing #ffxv oc #oc: primam chorus #oc: ros viridis #noctis caelum #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #ffxv: reimagined #ship: quicksilver dancers

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justaduckarts · 2 years ago

Note

What if ideas for a story!

Sun didn't get possessed by Afton or drop the star

Eclipse wasn't blamed for Luna's death and exiled

Pluto didn't go all crazy on Moon

Lunar's family & village didn't die of lead poisoning

Solaris was proud of both of his sons

Luna died naturally

Star Holder was raised in Eclipse's temple.

We never became the Star Holder....

Hello!

Sorry for the delay <3

I must confess, I've been planning a story where we get adopted by Moon instead of going to Sun's temple, and some of your story ideas will be involved in that alternate timeline (I can't say which ones because that'd spoil the fun).

So I will choose one that DOESN'T coincide with this future story...

That being said:

What if we never became the Star Holder?

Birdsong carried across the fields. A cool breeze rushed across the seemingly endless sea of red poppies, sending their sweet smell rushing over you. Smiling, you adjusted the sack on your shoulder and carried on along the long dirt path that cut through the countryside.

Spring was in full swing. As you passed, you saw your neighbors out hanging sheets to dry or working in their gardens. Planting seeds that would become fruits and vegetables to be harvested in the fall.

Once more, you checked the list your mother had given you. Even though you were nearly twenty-five now, you were still living with her. Mostly to look after her health. Your brother had remained at home, too, taking to tending the farm to support the household. Though your sister had kindled a flame and left your village to marry the woman she'd fallen for while away for school.

Life was peaceful. Warm.

But sometimes, you felt... as if you should be elsewhere. Doing something important. What that thing might be, you couldn't imagine.

Still, the feeling nagged at you. You had these strange dreams of another life. One where you served at the sides of the gods and experienced all kinds of marvelous things. Cosmic entities. Magics. Strange creatures. Demons, even.

So, you'd become an artist. Painting all the things that plagued your subconscious onto canvas. Your works were pretty popular, too! Especially your depictions of the gods. Once, you'd even been commissioned to paint a piece for a temple. Your mother was so proud!

Life was good.

Finally, you could see the bazaar in the distance. The outdoor market was pleasantly uncrowded this early in the day. Vendors milled about, arranging their displays and preparing for the likely busy afternoon ahead. Usually, you'd be right alongside them, paintings on display while you worked on your latest piece.

Today, however, was your brother's birthday. And you and your mother had conspired to surprise him for all his hard work.

As you were approaching a table with a large scale and bags of grain all around, you noticed a pair strolling through the bazaar. Tall, dressed in elegant silks.

Your mouth fell open as you recognized them.

The gods. Here?

Why?

"Excuse me," Sun approached one of the vendors. A baker. She immediately perked.

"Oh, hello, your graces! It's an honor. What may I do for you?" The baker bowed her head.

"There's usually a painter here, isn't there?" Sun's smile was nearly as bright as the star he was named for.

"Ah, yes," the baker nodded, your name rolling off her tongue, "but I don't think they're coming today, I heard- Oh. There you are!" She spotted you behind the two towering gods and waved energetically.

Sun and Moon turned immediately.

You felt an overwhelming urge to turn and flee. A quiet war started in your head over leaving or staying. But as the two approached, you found your legs unwilling to cooperate with you.

"Good afternoon," you bowed your head, "your graces."

"Afternoon? You're mistaken, it's barely after sunrise," Moon tilted his head. Sun chuckled, patting his dear friend on the shoulder.

"Oh, Moon," he shook his head, "they're just nervous. Right?" He looked back at you. You nodded, unconsciously fiddling with your tunic.

"How may I help you?" You fidgeted. "Uh, your grace."

"There's no need to be so tense! You aren't in trouble!" Sun's milky eyes shone in the morning light, "I recently visited a temple nearby and saw the most beautiful painting. The priest there tells me you were the one to make it!"

Oh.

Relief washed over you.

"It was so lovely," Sun sighed, "Moon and I thought you'd be the perfect person to paint something for us."

"Truly?" Your eyes widened, "it'd be an honor!" You couldn't help the smile on your face.

"Wonderful!" Sun clapped, "I'm sure you'll make a lovely portrait of the Star Holder. Ordina will look so lovely, don't you think, Moon?"

"Oh, yes," Moon nodded, "if you're the one to paint it, I think it will look incredible."

"You wish for me to paint the Star Holder?" You felt a little stunned. Something inside you stirred, just saying those words out loud. And hearing Sun say them... It made you feel uneasy.

You'd heard of Star Holder Ordina. The woman chosen to protect the star from those who would use it for wrong. Hand-chosen by the gods.

You couldn't imagine how her life must be.

"But of course!" Sun nodded eagerly.

Well. Who were you to pass up the opportunity to work for actual gods? It... felt right, in some ways. And wrong, in others.

But this time, it was your choice. And maybe that's what mattered.

"I'd be honored," you nodded.

"Wonderful!" Sun practically bounced with excitement. He was so... different from how you'd imagined him. Bouncy, happy, warm. For some reason, you'd always imagined him being more reserved and distant.

"Walk with us," Moon smiled shyly, "we'll sort the details." He gestured you forward. Smiling in turn, you followed the gods further into the marketplace.

Life was good.

#justaduckarts answers #star holder au #what if you didn't have the star #surprise you end up working for the gods anyway lol #but under much happier circumstances #also sun is much less stressed did you notice #wonder how come #and theres no war either whoa #hmmm #interesting

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iambilliejeanok · 3 years ago

Note

I’ve never seen someone request this, but how do you think konoha 11 guys would react if the reader said their safe word when being intimate together? Btwww I love your writing sm <3

I love this one 🥺🥺🙊 and thank you💗🫶🏾

Warnings: 18+, smut, ddlg, short scenarios, loads of fluff, also a lot of smut, bdsm, brat taming, punishments

Gaara

“G-Ga…ra”, you whimper, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as another orgasm ripples through you, his hips still thrusting into you, deep and hard, never ceasing even as you cum hard around him. Feeling a ball forming in your tummy, you begin to grow nauseous. Maybe you’re too dehydrated to be engaging in such vigorous and intense behavior, but you are starting to feel sick, your head spinning as Gaara continues to fuck you.

“Yea babe?”, Gaara pants against your face, enjoying himself far too much to give you a break now. “B-bub…bles”, you barely manage to whimper, too weak to try and push him off of you. If the two of you were not so close, he might’ve missed it, but he swears he heard you say it, immediately pulling out of you just in case he’s right. “Bubbles babe?”, he softly asked, his voice horse from the stimulation. All you can manage is to nod your head, tears running down your eyes and you don’t know why just yet.

Gaara’s heart skips a beat and he immediately sobers up, “Baby, are you hurt?”, he asks, holding his breath as he nervously waits for your answer. You just weren’t feeling so well. You skipped breakfast and lunch today because of work, and you forgot all about that when you got home to Gaara. You desperately needed him to make love to you after such a long day, but now you regret it, feeling bad for stopping something you started. “No..”, you say barely above a whisper, Gaara leaning in closer, until his face was directly above yours. “What’s the matter love?”, he gently asks feeling your buddy still twitching beneath him. “Come here baby”, he says, scooping you up and carefully sitting up with you cradled in his arms.

“Answer me please dear”, he pleads, wiping the sweat off your forehead with his hand, placing kisses all over your face, your eyes closed to embrace all the attention you were receiving. “I, I d-don’t know, just f-feel sick”, you whimper, still recovering from the intense orgasm, hiccuping as you spoke. “It’s alright baby, let’s breathe”, he says, laying down on his back, a few pillows behind him, adjusting you so you lay right on top of him, your face snuggling his neck, your breasts squished against his chest.

“Breathe with me okay babe?”, he says, his arms wrapped around you, soothing you already. As he breathed in, you followed the notion of his chest, breathing in too, and as he breathed out you breathed out too, until you were calm enough that you stopped hiccuping. “I’ll go grab you some juice okay?”, he says, and for the rest of the night, you get babied until it’s time to sleep.

Sasuke

He himself is not sure if he’s a hard or soft dom, but today, he isn’t letting you get away with your embarrassing behavior at todays Hokage conference. Nagging him for all the things you wanted in between the meeting breaks, giving him attitude and rolling your eyes whenever he pulled you closer to him to warn you to get yourself together. Then getting all upset about it and nagging him to pick you up in front of everyone. Naruto, Kakashi, Gaara and Shikamaru so witnessing your needy behavior.

He was very mad y/n. That’s why you were tied up on the bed, closer to the headboard, you arms and legs spread wide apart, your hands handcuffed right above your head, your ankles handcuffed to the headboard, a vibrator inside your warms walls and another nestled right on your clit, Sasuke’s fingers spreading your lips apart pushing the hood of your clit bag for the ultimate torture. He knew you wouldn’t be able to take this from the jump. But fuck it, tonight he wanted to be ruthless. You needed to learn some kind of lesson.

You on the other end couldn’t stop crying and screaming to save your life, your body fully restricted, you could barely move, having cum multiple times in the few minutes Sasuke pinned you down for. Your orgasm was cruel and long, you thought you’d suffocate to death, barely able to breathe as you came, pushing the vibrator inside of you out as you squirted all over Sasuke for the millionth time. “Tch, you dirty brat”, he mumbled to himself, catching the vibrator in his hand to quickly stuff it back inside of you.

“D-daddy!!! I’m s-so s-sorry!!”, you screamed, crying hard when he put it back inside of you. “Tch”, he said, massaging your anus, knowing damn well you weren’t sorry at all. Putting the vibrator he held to your clit down, he smacked your pussy, making you scream. “I- I’m ssorryyy!”, you cried, only earning yourself another smack to your puss. “No you’re not”, Sasuke spoke, his voice calm and low, a smirk in his face as he watched you cry and scream. If you would not listen to him he was going to torture you like this. He loved making you suffer like this. “Y-yes yes I am!! I’m so s-sorry d-daddy”, you begged, your blindfold drenched in your tears. He smacked your puss again. You didn’t deserve this. You were a princess and deserved to be pampered with gentle orgasms, not this. “You don’t listen to me sweetheart, you have to be such little brat don’t you? Keep crying brat, we’re not done anytime soon” , he teases you, his harsh words only making you cry ontop of the vibrator he just place right back on your clit.

You cannot take this any longer and even though Sasuke made it crystal clear to you what the safe word was for, you needed it to save yourself right now. Yes the word was only for emergencies, like if he was hurting you, or if you were feeling sick, but you are a brat after all. “Yellow!! Yellow!!”, you screamed, Sasuke immediately put the vibrator in his hand down, pulling the one inside of you out, quickly removing the cuffs around your ankles and wrists. You couldn’t stop crying, you weren’t hurt, you didn’t feel sick, you were just as usual, being a brat, refusing to take your punishment. Sasuke already knew that, he did not in fact believe you actually needed to use it, but the safe word is the safe word. He wasn’t upset with you anymore though, even though you lasted a pathetic amount of time, scooping you up, your hands and legs wrapping around him like a sloth.

He knew you wouldn’t stop crying until he comforted you, saving himself the stress by rubbing your back and walking around the room with you. “Baby, I swear you drive me crazy. Are you okay?”, he asked, planting kisses on your neck and shoulder. You kept yourself hidden by snuggling into his neck. “No”, you answered, Sasuke rolling his eyes, still kissing you and rubbing your back. “What’s wrong?”, he asked, “You’re so mean”, you said, pinching his neck with your teeth, intending to hurt him but that didn’t even make him react. Sitting down on the bed, he grabbed a fistful of your braids, pulling your head back so you could talk to him like that to his face, your eyes avoiding his in embarrassment. You knew he knew this was all an act. And you also knew he would entertain it. You were going for the oscar’s tonight.

Shikamaru

The hardest of them all. You didn’t even intend to get yourself in this situation, you were just really upset with Shikamaru, your arms crossed and a pretty pout on your face the entire car ride home. Reason being that after a long day of shopping, eating delicious food and treats and hanging with your beloved, Shikamaru spanked and edged you in the bathroom because you couldn’t be grateful for everything he did for you today, nagging him to piggy back ride you back to the car. He told you no, you kept on complaining, he took you to the bathroom to help you understand better. Simple.

He let you have an attitude on the way back home, telling himself that he would deal with you when y’all arrive. And that’s why you were crying and begging him for a break, your legs shivering, barely able to keep you standing as he fucked you from the back, bending you over the kitchen counter as soon as the two of you stepped in the house. “Shikaaaaa!!!”, you cried, his dick so deep inside of you, constantly hitting a spot that made you see stars over and over again, giving you relentless orgasms. “Yes baby, you feel so fucking good, I need more”, he groaned, reaching for your neck to pull you upright, slightly crouching to get a better angle, the new change even worse than the previous position, making you gush like a tap, creating a puddle at your feet. You couldn’t take the orgasm, your legs giving out on you, but Shikamaru simply turned you around and lifted you up, turning around to press you against the wall, carefully placing your legs over his shoulders, lining himself with your vagina again. This was torture. You couldn’t do anything but take his fast thrusts as he continued to fuck you against the wall.

“Unicor—uuuuhhhhhhh!!!!!”, you screamed, unable to talk as Shika brought you to another mind shattering orgasm, and you lost all your senses for a hot minute, your body only focusing on enduring the incredible orgasm. By the time you opened your eyes, you were resting against Shikamaru’s chest, the room completely dark, only faintly lit by the full big, bright moon outside. You could smell the faint scent of your bath products on you and Shikamaru, and you began to remember little snippets of what happened. You remembered Shika hugging your limp body as he prepared the shower, you remembered him asking you so many questions, pampering you with kisses and cuddles. He carried you the entire time. You remembered not being able to fully say the safe word.

But Shikamaru knew what you were trying to say and he slowed down before he pulled out, your limp body pressed against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder and your arms and legs dangling on either side of him as you whimpered and moaned in his neck. He loved it when you got all soft like this, especially when you were giving him a hard time. Problem solved. Your attitude was dealt with. After giving you a nice shower, he got some snacks from the kitchen and bottles of water, carrying you everywhere he went. Setting all the stuff on the nightstand beside the bed, he lay in it with you still in his arms, kissing your forehead goodnight before he dozed off too.

Naruto

Naruto loves bullying you while he’s fucking you, teasing you everytime you tell him it’s too much for you, or tying up up when you start running from him. So the safe word is really there for you to stop him since he definitely won’t stop no matter how much you kick and push him away.

He’s been toying with your body for the past hour now, having made you cum too many times for either one of you to keep track. Giving you a much needed break from his mouth, he lined himself up with you again, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long this go for. He was getting carried away again, scooping you up to sit with you in the lotus flower position, his big hand on your ass to help you ride him, the other on your hip, easily lifting you up and pushing you back down, forcing you take all of him in your least favorite position. This one was always intense for some reason, your finger nails digging into his muscly bicep, your other hand scratching his shoulder as you tried to contain yourself, feeling like you were going to lose your mind if you had to endure another orgasm (Not that you hadn’t already lost it)

“R-ram…ramen”, you whimpered, Naruto summoning all his willpower and Kurama’s to pull out of you, laying you down with your head on a pillow, immediately placing kisses on your face. “Baby, that was amazing, are you okay?”, he asked, hoping to his mom and dad he didn’t hurt you. You couldn’t speak properly in this state, you just needed him to hold you, summoning the strength to weakly hug him, Naruto understood the cue, scooping you and letting you lay ontop of him, rubbing your body until you were breathing normally.

Hearing soft snores from you, he knew you were okay, smiling to thoughts about you.

Shino

You were seriously not feeling good. All day long you had horrible period cramps even though you weren’t even on your period. All you could think about was your bed and Shino. You needed a hot bath and some cuddles or else you’d die, calling him to whine and complain about everything, hanging up and feeling better about things, knowing that he’d be waiting for you to come home.

A warm bubble bath awaited you, Shino standing in the kitchen with a robe and a pair of slippers on. “Hello sweetheart”, he softly spoke, quickly approaching you. Opening his arms to give you a big hug, you decided to jump on him, catching him by surprise, but he quickly placed his hands on your bottom so you didn’t fall. “Baby, you told me you were not feeling well; has that changed?”, he asked in between kisses on your neck. “Noooo!”, you whined, and he wasn’t going say another word, he preferred not to talk to you when you were all moody and sick like this, just actions no words, or else you’d start whining and he wasn’t trying to get into that. He just wanted peace tonight.

Walking over to the bathroom, he sat you on the counter, getting your clothes off for you because you usually asked him to do that, then he took his own robe off, and to your surprise, seeing his well sculpted bare body made you feel things, his dick semi hard from stripping you, but he had such good self control and wasn’t going to ask you for anything since you weren’t feeling well.

Finally, you were both resting inside the tub, the hot water instantly relaxing your muscles as Shino rubbed your tummy. This was heaven, laying here in the tub with your lover. You knew he was all you needed to feel better, sinking further into him, arching your back as you stretched, relaxing again, a now noticeable ache between your legs. You were already feeling better anyhow, taking Shino’s hand and guiding it down to your clit, softly gasping when Shino took the hint, slowly massaging your clit in circles, bringing his other hand in up to separate your folds so he could have more access.

Shino knew your body so well, and he was absolutely amazing at taking you to different heights of pleasure with just his fingers, your fourth orgasm slowly approaching as he buried his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping the digits in and out, your hand gripping his forearm tight, your body slightly turned sideways so you could look at him like he told you too. Your other hand gripped his hair, yanking on it hard enough that he grunted, fingering your faster and harder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you lost yourself for a minute or two, still trying to recover from the intensity of it when he repositioned you to sit on your hands and knees, kneeling on one knee behind you, lining himself with your pussy.

Even if his hips moved at a slow and controlled pace, it didn’t take away from how mind numbing his dick was, the 7inch fat cock kissing every spot inside of you, especially the back, as he dove in deep before pulling all the way back, repeating the actions until you were shivering and crying, begging him to get off of you since it was way to much for you to handle. Maybe it was your cycle that affected the intensity of it all, but Shino was not ready to stop. He didn’t get to come and neither did you…at least from his dick that is, only wrapping his arm around you and placing his hand on your neck when you tried to get up, now you really couldn’t run, Shino leaning back a bit to get a better angle, slowly thrusting in and out of you, his other hand reaching around your hips to start massaging your clit, your whole body trembling as your orgasm approached, Shino having to hold you still so you didn’t hurt yourself as you thrashed in his arms, screaming through gritted teeth in attempt to take the overwhelming pleasure.

You finally came for him and that was all he was waiting for, for this orgasm right here, starting to move his hips again, but this time, he moved a little faster, thrusting into you harder, deeper, holding you tight so you wouldn’t run. This is what you asked for.

“S-strawberries!!”, you cried out, Shino’s hips slowing down but he didn’t pull out of you, only wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. “Is everything okay sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice husky in your ear. “Is t-too muuuch!!!”, you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. “Shhh, okay baby, I’m sorry, relax with me”, he said, now pulling out of you, relaxing back down you against his chest. All he wanted to do was hold you like this, showering your teary cheeks with kisses.

Later on at night, around 11pm, you woke up, Shino spooning you from behind, both of you under the covers of your shared bed. You smiled, knowing that Shino took care of you after you fell asleep in the bathtub. Biting your lips to the memories, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together, accidentally grinding back into him, gasping since his dick was still very hard, poking your ass. This would’ve been better inside of you, but you didn’t want to disturb Shino, snuggling back into him to close your eyes and drift off

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buckyalpine · 3 years ago

Text

Pretty Little Thing Part 1

18+ Minors dni

Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage) A/N: This is going to be in parts because it was getting way too long for a one shot. Felt like writing some protective Mob Bucky because he is an absolute treasure. Rumlow is a piece of shit. Please like, comment and reblog! <3

Warnings: ANGST, forced marriage, swearing, abusive marriage

Word count: 1.8k

Bucky reluctantly got in the SUV after Steve nagged him for 2 hours about the importance of maintaining civil relationships with business partners and rivals.

“You know what they say punk, keep your friends close and your enemies closer”

Bucky groaned, adjusting the gun in his holster wondering how he let Steve convince him to meet with Brock Rumlow again.

He had zero interest in having any business dealings with Rumlow; he had agreed to a meeting to maintain an air of peace. Though they were both part of the same world, Bucky had some morals.

As they neared the residence, something was different this time. Bucky frowned, wondering why the mansion they were pulling up to looked so…homely. A trail of flower bushes lined the gravel road to the entrance. A large garden swing sat on the lawn. Rumlow didn’t seem like the type to sit outside on a sunny day to lounge on a garden swing. Not unless someone half naked was on it. The large balcony that was typically occupied with the women Rumlow was entertaining that week was empty. Instead 2 guards that had previously never been seen had taken up residence at the main door.

“He’s up to something, this man didn’t suddenly turn into Mr. Rogers” Steve shook his head, doing a quick pat down of his weapons before exiting the vehicle.

The inside was no better; a giant bouquet of flowers sat in an ornate vase beside the stair case. The curtains had been opened, allowing natural light to pour through the living room. A number of family photos had been placed above the fireplace, replacing a previous cigar collection.

“Gentleman!” Rumlow descended the stairs, flashing them an unnaturally bright smile.

Bucky nodded, his stoic face unchanged. “I see you’ve made some changes”

“All this,” Rumlow gestured around him, “is for my beautiful new wife”

Steve hoped Rumlow didn’t hear him choke though Bucky definitely did, struggling to hide his smirk.

“Didn’t think you’d be one to settle down” Bucky said coolly, wondering which woman of the week he had convinced to marry him.

“You would too Barnes, if you got lucky enough to find a woman like mine. Let me introduce you!”

Before Bucky could protest (though secretly curious to know who would agree to marry such a creature), Rumlow called for you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, come down, meet my business partners!” “We’re not bu-”

Bucky immediately stopped upon seeing you descend the stairs. That wasn’t who he was expecting.

You quietly padded down the stairs in a simple white sun dress that stopped just above your knees, the soft material flowing between your legs with each step. Your hair cascaded down, softly bouncing as you approached them. As you neared, Bucky noticed the finer details that just added to your beauty. The small beauty marks on your skin that made you unique, the curve of your jaw, the way you nervously bit you bottom lip, the soft light color you had painted on your toes. Fuck you were angelic.

You stood quietly by Rumlows side, nearly hiding behind him, glancing at the two very handsome men that visited your home. If you’d even call it a home.

“She’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?”

Bucky and Steve stood in stunned silence, nodding after a moment. Rumlow smirked, getting the exact reaction he wanted.

“Barnes, Rogers, this is y/n, my sweet wife” Rumlow firmly gripped your waist, pulling you forward while placing a possessive kiss on your neck, his lips lingering on your skin for longer than necessary. You squirmed slightly, immediately stopping when you felt his fingers dig into your skin.

“Pleasure to meet you y/n” The handsome blonde gave you a soft smile, extending his hand. You hesitated before taking his hand; his hold felt firm, safe.

“Y/n, this is James Barnes and Steve Rogers, they came to discuss some of our business trades”

You smiled softly, nodding keeping your gaze down. You fidgeted with the large diamond ring that sat on your finger, the heavy rock a harsh contrast to your simple appearance.

“Gentleman follow me, we can discuss everything in the office. Y/n darling, prepare us some drinks please”

The office looked the same as the last time Bucky had been there; a large solid wood desk with simple arm chairs surrounding it and a large couch off to the side. Everything was the same except for one stark difference; a large wedding portrait hung on the wall behind Rumlow’s desk. He looked proud, as if he had captured the prey he prowled after, his arm draped possessively around you waist. You were in a plain white silk wedding dress, both your hands clasped around a bouquet of blood red roses. You’re lips were curved up in a small smile but your eyes looked lost, devoid of happiness.

“Take a seat, y/n please” Rumlow gestured for you to pour them their drinks while they sat. Another change; there were no longer maids or butlers in the house. There were security guards that walked the perimeter and few in the halls but the many women that previously waited on Rumlow hand and foot were nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t see any of your other….assistants?” Steve wasn’t sure how to refer to the lack of help. He knew for a fact Rumlow had them around for more than just cleaning the house.

“Ah, no need for them when I have this angel here. Got rid of them all after we got married”

He grinned at you, pawing at your waist as you dropped a few ice cubes into the crystal glasses. Your body tensed under his touch, quickly pouring the whisky so you could leave the room. Your nervous movements caused a splash of the dark liquid to spill onto Bucky’s shirt.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Mr. Barnes” You looked up wide eyed, frantically grabbing a cloth to dry off the spill. Your hands trembled as you quickly dabbed his chest, feeling the hard muscle under tense.

“It’s okay doll” The name rolled off his tongue with such ease before Bucky could catch himself. He took the napkin from your hand and set it on the table, giving you a soft smile. His eyes were a stunning piercing blue and you felt yourself get lost in them for a moment, collecting yourself when you heard a cough from your husband.

“That’ll be all y/n. Sorry gentleman, she’s still learning” Rumlow gave you a nod, smiling, however his voice and eyes were cold as they bore into you. You nodded, quickly retreating to your room before they could see the tears fall.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, while Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“Learning?” Bucky’s voice was cold. He already had no interest to be here but seeing the way you were treated angered him more.

“Yes Barnes, learning” Rumlow’s was voice equally cold, his hospitable demeanour slowly crumbling seeing the way you looked at Bucky.

“And how did she agree to this marriage in the first place?” Bucky sat back in his chair, genuinely curious to know how you ended up in his hellhole.

“Truthfully, that’s none of your business Barnes”

“We can talk about this first Brock” Steve said lowly, his hand gripping the arm of the chair to keep from punching the man’s jaw out of place.

“I don’t have to explain anything to you Barnes, or you Rogers, you came here to talk business,” Rumlow glared at the men, realizing the conversation would not move forward unless they got their answer. “But since you seem so keen, it was for her benefit”

“Benefit?”

“Her family owed me a large sum of money they couldn’t repay. Millions. I spared them in exchange for her”

Bucky felt sick, anger beginning to cloud his judgement. He should have known you would have been forced into this arrangement against your will. Steve sensed his friends change in mood, tapping his knee, signalling for him to cool down.

“So you forced her to be your wife?”

“Hardly”, Rumlow replied coolly, sipping his whiskey. “She agreed to the marriage in exchange for her family’s life”

“She’s a person Rumlow, you don’t trade lives for your benefit. She’s had to sacrifice her whole life for her own family, what the hell have you given her in exchange for it!?” Steve felt his own composure beginning to falter.

“ I’ve made plenty of sacrifices for her!” Disgust dripped from his voice when he mentioned you. “Do you see any women walking around this fucking place? Not one maid, no whores, all of them gone for her. I’ve remodelled the house according to her likings; I have not touched her once until she agrees. She is getting everything according to her needs, the least she can do is learn to pour a glass of whiskey”

Rumlow’s chest was heaving his frustrations grew. He knew your family would have paid the money off eventually but he wanted you. The pretty, sweet, angelic looking thing that sat on the swing in front of your family’s home, nose tucked in a book. So he made an offer. All debt’s cleared in an exchange of marriage. You protested, so he made another offer. He would change, become a better man. No more women, he would change his home to resemble your own. He wouldn’t lay a finger on you until you consented.

“You’re proud of not touching someone who doesn’t want to be with you in the first place?” Bucky scoffed, his hand itching to pull the gun from his holster.

It had been 6 months since the wedding and his patience was growing thin. The marriage had never been consummated and Rumlow was only willing to play his part for so long. He’d get what he wanted if you were not going to give it to him willingly.

“I’ve had to keep it in my pants for 6 months Barnes, I think I’ve been pretty generous, don’t you think?” Rumlow smirked, enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Bucky.

The floor screeched as Bucky stood out of his chair, heading straight for the door. A minute longer and a bullet would have found its way between Rumlow’s eyes. Steve followed without a word, as Rumlow sat back in his chair finishing off his whiskey.

In the car, Steve glanced at Bucky, shaking his head, knowing where his friends head was at.

“Be careful Buck”

“About?”

“I saw how you looked at her. Called her doll right in front of that piece of shit, God knows what he’s going to do to her now”

Bucky groaned, closing his eyes as you clouded his thoughts. Your bare feet softly padding down the stairs, your hair slightly tousled. Your soft y/e/c eyes that pleaded for forgiveness. The tear that slipped and rolled down your cheek. He noticed.

Part 2

1K notes · View notes

crystaljins · 2 years ago

Text

Stars Above | 08

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 5.2K

Synopsis: Your nagging roommate is desperate for a third person to help meet the rent and your university just so happens to be running a fully-funded government grant for anyone who signs up to participate in the Intergalactic Exchange program.

Having an alien for a roommate is just asking for all kinds of trouble, though.

Alien!Taehyung x reader

Rating: Teens

Notes: This is arguably one of the emotional climaxes of this drabble series. If I was aiming for a warm hug up until now, then maybe this part is fireworks at a festival? Maybe not ahaha. I’ll let you guys be the judges

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

For some reason, something makes you feel uneasy as you watch Rose unpack the boot of her car. You’ve gotten quite adept at sniffing out Nayeon’s schemes, and this certainly reeks of one. For one thing, you hadn’t thought the two girls close enough to warrant an invite to Nayeon’s “super-intimate but also super-casual” weekend away to her parent’s lake house. For another, Nayeon has been acting weird around you lately. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it started, but one moment she was being her normal, if a little irritating self, and the next she was cranky, irritable, prone to tantrums. Actually, in all honesty, Nayeon does have her cranky days and you’d be inclined to write it off as something simple like a guy not liking her or her favourite eyeshadow pallette being discontinued were it not for the way her ire seems directed at a specific person.

Or rather, alien.

Said alien comes scampering over to your cheerfully, a smile brighter than the sun above plastered upon his face. He’s steadily adjusted to earthen levels of UV radiation, and can now get away with a wide-brimmed hat and copious amounts of sunscreen to cope with the outdoors, but he’s missed a huge smear of sunscreen just under his left eye.

“Would you require me to carry your possessions over to your temporary inhabitance?” He enquires giddily. Something in you softens, at his tone. Like the warm autumn sunlight that spreads across the lake, it’s pleasant and sparkling, stretching to the tips of your fingers with a delightful fizz.

“No, that’s fine.” You say, bringing a hand up to gently scrub the blob of sunscreen away. He looks momentarily taken aback, but the look quickly morphs into a contented smile.

For just the briefest moment, you’re excited for this weekend. Taehyung had admitted he’d spent a lot of time watching human movies back on his home planet, and a trip with friends had been something he’d always wanted to experience. So Nayeon’s birthday weekend away had been the perfect chance for him to experience that.

Then you feel a heated pair of eyes on your back and the brief excitement melts away. Glancing over your shoulder, both Nayeon and Rose are glaring at you, and you’re immediately reminded that Nayeon is up to something. You don’t know what that something is, but you hope you’ve packed enough painkillers to deal with the headaches she’s sure to induce over the next 48 hours.

With a sigh, you turn back to Taehyung. He falls into step with you as you heft your baggage along and a few steps later he insists on taking it off you anyway.

“What are the intended activities?” He questions you. “Are we permitted to go “canooking”?”

You laugh, shaking off the chill of unease that Nayeon’s strange behaviour has set upon you.

“It’s “canooing” or “kayaking”.” You remind him. “But I think Nayeon rang a rental place and has us booked in for tomorrow. For today it’s just setting up for the barbeque and waiting for everyone to arrive. I think the boys also wanna play capture the flag or a spooky hide and seek once night hits as well.”

Taehyung nods eagerly, a little extra bounce present in his step upon hearing the itinerary.

The rest of the afternoon proceeds enjoyably- Jungkook and Jin arrive in the late afternoon and immediately start fighting over the barbeque. Dahyun decides that she’s a campfire expert and goes searching for firewood, while Nayeon and Rose sit in the evening sun with blankets and a bottle of wine between them, laughing at the boys’ antics. It’s nice, watching your friends have fun. You watch them through the window of the kitchen in between washing and prepping vegetables for dinner.

“If you wish to share time with them, I can complete the eating preparations on my own.” You start a bit when you feel a warm thumb slide along the collar of your shirt, tickling the top of your shoulder. Taehyung sidles up to you, shoulder to shoulder.

Despite yourself, you smile and shake your head.

“Then you won’t be enjoying yourself!” You remind him sternly. “Help me in here and we can join them more quickly- they’re planning on playing some game once dinner prep is done.”

Taehyung nods enthusiastically, reaching across you to retrieve the bowl of mushrooms you’d left unattended. He hums as he works- it’s a habit he picked up recently, not long after you downloaded Spotify onto his phone for him; since then he always seems to have a tune on his tongue.

You like his voice- it’s warm and velvety and suits the mood of a lazy autumn afternoon. You’re not really the singing type yourself but you could spend the whole day listening to Taehyung hum absently to himself.

You’re focused enough on your task that you don’t notice the way Tae’s voice gradually fades until you accidentally knock against the countertop and the resulting “thud” is abnormally loud in the kitchen.

Surprised, you glance over Taehyung to find his progress with the vegetarian skewers has stalled. Instead, he scans his gaze across the lawns to where Nayeon and Rose are settled on their picnic blanket, visible through the glass window. Something clouds his expression as he stares at the pair.

“Can I ask you a question?” He says softly. His voice sounds distant and contemplative; it’s like he’s a million miles away in that moment.

“Ask away.” You answer back, and suddenly the warmth of the afternoon seems evaporated. Something about the look in Taehyung’s eyes leaves you uneasy.

“How does courtship work on this planet?” He asks.

You splutter for a few moments, floored by the unexpected question. And then you follow his gaze once more and something clicks when you realise he’s still staring at the two girls lounging on the lawn.

Oh.

Something clicks into place like two puzzle pieces slotting together neatly. You clear your throat awkwardly before shrugging and turning your gaze away. Memories flash through your mind; Nayeon’s bad mood, Rose’s unexplained presence on this trip, and even a few weeks earlier when an upset Taehyung had informed you that Nayeon had been trying to set him up with one of her friends.

Was... was there something between Rose and Taehyung?

“It’s... if you... if you f-find someone attractive,” You begin. You’re sure that you sound like an absolute idiot with your sudden stammering but for some reason your tongue feels like it’s made from lead. “Then you spend time with them. On dates. Trying to decide if you like them enough to spend your life with them.”

A surprised expression crosses his face.

“That’s all? You spend time together and you are entered into a bonded agreement? How to you discern ‘courtship’ time together from ‘friendship’ time together?” He demands, completely and utterly baffled. And then his expression grows into horror. “If that is the case then I must attend to something in the immediate!” He cries, dashing out before you have a chance to interrogate him otherwise.

“Taehyung, wait!” You cry out, but he’s already out the door, leaving you by your lonesome in the kitchen. “Is there someone you want to “court”?” You ask to the empty kitchen anyway, knowing it won’t answer back.

You pretend you don’t notice him cross the lawns moments later and take Rose aside, somewhere out of view and instead focus your energy on finishing the dinner preparations.

It is entirely stupid to spend the rest of the evening sulking and yet that is what you find yourself doing.

You don’t even have any rational explanation for why you’re so upset. Taehyung hadn’t mentioned Rose by name at all prior to this trip; it’s a huge assumption to think anything would be happening between them. And, even if there is something happening between them, it’s genuinely none of your business. You’re just his roommate. Your sole job is to take care of him on this exchange. If he wants to fool around and have flings with Earthen girls, he’s well within his rights to do so.

But, nevertheless, something in you aches at the thought. And so, the easiest way to deal with the unfamiliar emotion is to avoid the trigger.

Now if only everyone else would let you do so in peace.

“What’s wrong? Did Taehyung find out you used beefstock in the veggie soup by accident?” Jin asks, siding smoothly into place beside where you’re seated on a log, a few metres away from the campfire and the majority of the action.

“No, I remembered to use vegetable stock this time.” You sigh, accepting the can of drink he holds out towards you. “I just...”

You trail away. If you can’t articulate to yourself why you’re upset, there’s no hope of you explaining it to Jin. At least not without significant misery and humiliation on your part.

Jin, to his credit, spots Rose enthusiastically chatting to Taehyung, a hand resting delicately against the alien’s forearm, and takes the hint to leave you alone. He smiles awkwardly at you before shuffling off to bully Jungkook.

Nayeon is nowhere near as tactful. She slumps down beside you on the wrong end of tipsy, wielding a beer can like a weapon and ready to complain.

“Why do you look so sad?!” She drunkenly demands of you. Startled, you glare at her in what you hope is an adequately distasteful expression. She doesn’t take your hint, continuing on despite the dour expression on your face. “You were supposed to not care! You never care about these things! Nothing ever gets to you.”

“Nayeon.” You cut her off sharply. Any other day you’d tackle this but today you’re especially not in the mood for her antics. “What on earth are you going on about?”

Nayeon stops her rant, staring at you wide-eyes. Then her gaze flicks to where Taehyung is now being inundated by people- Jungkook has an arm thrown around him while Rose still clings to his forearm and Jimin looks like he’s drunkenly squaring up to Taehyung.

Guilt fills her expression. She opens her mouth slowly.

“I.... didn’t know things would end up like this.”

She confesses in a rush. She buries her face in her hands and suddenly seems a lot more sober. “I didn’t know Rose would like Taehyung so much and if she did, I thought he’d end up liking her back.”

She’s really only adding to your confusion, and you wisely choose to remain silent as Nayeon spills her guts.

“I just... I was jealous.” She admits, looking at you with miserable eyes. “I know you don’t consider me your best friend- I’m not stupid, ok? I know that most of the time you barely tolerate me, but for me? You’re the closest friend I have. No one else even comes close, and when I saw how close you were getting with Tae, I felt threatened.”

You blink in surprise at her confession, and then it’s your turn to feel guilty. Nayeon has always taken your dismissiveness with a grain of salt or with a laugh. You’d always assumed the whole ‘’my best friend” thing was a joke, and so you’d aways been quick to shoot her down.

“I...” you begin, scrambling for the right words to say.

She cuts you off, however.

“I thought if he got a girlfriend, he wouldn’t have as much time for you. And then things would go back to normal.” She confesses. “I just assumed after a couple of dates they’d hit it off and he’d have less time for you! But instead, he’s completely uninterested in her... and Rose fell head over heels for him, and you’re sitting here looking like I killed Sergeant Sparkles the seventh!” She cries.

“The fifth. Sergeant Sparkles the fifth.” You correct her, more in a state of shock than anything else.

Her expression darkens.

“About that...” she begins, and it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back as the reality of Nayeon’s actions come crashing down upon you.

“What the hell, Nayeon?” You demand, shooting to your feet in sudden anger. You’re not even sure why you’re so angry. Her actions were relatively benign and harmless- whether she sets Taehyung up on any dates or not is actually none of your business. And the stupid fish is hers anyway so who cares if she’s still managing to kill them when you aren’t home? It’s stupid- it’s all so stupid!

And yet-!

“You have no business meddling in his life or mine like that!” You say, pouring out all the strange and antsy frustration you’re feeling on the easiest target; your annoying roommate. “If you’re upset, you talkto me! Instead, you’ve done all this, and I...” Your voice cracks. “And I...”

And you what?

You’re upset that another girl likes Taehyung? You’re annoyed that he’s gone out on dates that he probably didn’t even know were dates? You know that you truly have no right to be upset, no ground to stand upon. Nayeon is right- you weren’t supposed to be moping around over something as simple as Taehyung being romantically interested in a girl. But here you are, upset, distressed... and jealous.

Jealous of the look on Taehyung’s face as he had gazed thoughtfully across the lawns at Rose and Nayeon, the way the setting sun had gilded his profile in rich gold and turned his dark eyes into endless galaxies, jealous that someone else was on the receiving end of that look.

Nayeon stares up at you- she’s probably a little too tipsy to be managing such an intense conversation, and you’re too upset to spare her any niceties. You turn your head away, pointedly ignoring the tears that have pooled in the corners of her widened eyes.

“Whatever.” You grit out. “It’s stupid anyway. I’m going to bed.”

In the midst of the din of the campfire, no one really notices you slipping away, fighting back frustrated tears.

Except one person, that is.

His fingers are warm around your wrist, and you know it’s Taehyung before you even turn around to check. A burst of distress fills you, and you wrench your hand free like he’s burned you but it’s too late. You know he’s read your emotions from the way his expression shifts.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung demands, stepping forward to reach for you once more. “What happened?”

You pull back a step before you even register what you’re doing and it’s like you’ve slapped him. His eyes widen in hurt and shock. You bite your lip; you know that reading your emotions is important to Taehyung. It’s become synonymous with trust for him. He’s always been careful with who he touches- meticulously tugging at his sleeves to cover his fingertips and always wearing oversized clothes to cover as much skin as possible around everyone except a select few. And you’ve always been one of the select few that he can be his free, unrestricted self around.

And suddenly you’re pulling away without explanation.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You say quickly, hoping to cover the intense guilt you suddenly feel. It’s no use, however. No matter how brief, he’d already felt the brief surge of your emotions- the anger, the bubbling distress, the hurt, the confusion. He knows something is wrong, but he’s also probably the last person you want to know that something is wrong.

“(Y/n),” he calls, gentle and coaxing because that’s always worked in the past. He reaches for you again, and this time you panic.

“Don’t!” You cry, and it comes out harsher than you intend. It doesn’t stop you from continuing, however. “Don’t touch me- just leave me alone!”

Something happens in that moment; like the snap of a rubber band giving way. The recoil stings sharply and instantly you regret your words. Taehyung’s face goes slack for a moment before his expression shutters. He takes a deep breath, shaking on the exhale, before offering you a weak smile.

“Ok.” He says, and its soft and giving, like the caving of a mattress under your body weight and your chest aches. “Good night then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You feel like the worst person alive.

You wake up late the next morning reeling with the memory of what you now recognise as a massive over-reaction. Bright sunlight streams between the lace curtains of your window and you stare dully up at the cracks of the ceiling of your room. Whoever you were sharing a room with is long gone; only the unmade bed signifies their presence.

You can already hear the clang of cutlery from downstairs as your friends rouse around the house and prepare for breakfast. No one’s bothered to wake you yet but there always seems to be a collective agreement on trips like these that everyone wake up at their own pace.

You’re grateful for that sentiment, and for the chance to mope alone for a moment. You hadn’t slept well- you’d tossed and turned and flitted from bad dream to bad dream. You feel exhausted.

Really, your behaviour last night had been silly. Both Nayeon and Taehyung had done nothing wrong. Even Rose hadn’t done anything wrong. The issue lies solely with you, and your own feelings.

And if your feelings are the issue, the healthy thing to do would be to process your emotions and think things through. You should really give a name to the faceless beast that triggered such jealousy and misery inside you. But that feels like a terrifying thing to do- like standing on the edge of a cliff face and preparing to go bungee-jumping off the edge.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side and bury your face into the pillow. The cotton is cool against your heated face and for a second, if you squeeze your eyes shut, things don’t seem so bad.

And then a gentle knock comes and they seem bad again.

“Come in.” You call, muffled by the pillow.

You’re not sure how you know it’s Taehyung, but your hunch is proven correct when he shuffles inside. He’s wearing a dark blue hoodie with his hood pulled over dark, curly hair and plaid pyjama bottoms that he hasn’t bothered to change out of. Everyone else is probably in their pyjamas downstairs anyway. He’s the picture of cosy when you finally allow your gaze to settle on him properly.

Foolishly, you hadn’t really prepared yourself for the moment you’d see him again after the fiasco that had occurred the night before. If you’d thought things would be the same after the revelations of the previous night, you were wrong. Instead, you’re struck, full-force like a truck slamming into a tiny clown car. Your gaze catches on the way the sunlight catches the tips of his hair, the way dark, alluring eyes peak beneath a curly fringe. Something in your chest stretches and expands outwards, like the melodic thrum of a guitar code.

You like him. You’re not sure how or when or why. What did he do, that he’s burrowed so firmly into your heart with your knowledge? Was it seated on the harbour, watching the boats go by? Or curled up on the couch together after a bad day? Or was it even earlier- dark, lost eyes watching you through the rain like you were his last hope? You don’t know- something happened and now here you are, with a crush the size of Jupiter. What do you do, now that you know this? Now that the irrevocable truth is before you?

You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will change anything. It doesn’t- behind your lids his smile is burned there like sunshine on a bright day.

You hear the shuffle of his slippers against carpet and feel the edge of the bed you are facing dip with a new weight. When you open your eyes, he stares back, one arm resting on the bed. He’s crouched by the side of the bed, watching. Waiting.

Slowly, very slowly like he’s approaching a skittish animal, he twists and manoeuvres his arm on the surface of the mattress until his palm faces upwards, outstretched towards you.

It’s an invitation; you know that Taehyung won’t force you to share or to tell him what’s wrong or to explain why you shouted at him the night before. He’s kind like that- he’ll accept an apology with zero explanation. You’ve seen him do it countless times with Nayeon, smiling whenever she tosses a thoughtless and reluctant “sorry” his way. He’ll do the same with you, if you so wish it.

But his outstretched hand is also a request- unbidden, you recall his prior words. “There’s nothing you can feel that I wouldn’t want to share in.”- that had been his admission to you. He wants you to trust him, to share the painful and ugly parts too.

And oddly... you want to share them with him. You want to share everything with him. You want to hold his hand.

Hesitantly, you let your fingers slide against his palm. You imagine that maybe Taehyung was expecting misery and anger to slide through your skin to him, but you feel strangely calm. You’re not sure how he interprets that, but Taehyung’s goal isn’t to know more. It’s to share with you- to empathise with you, and you know he’s happy with what you feel. Slowly, a smile slides across his face and he reaches a hand up to smooth his thumb affectionately across your temple, absently tucking a stray hair behind the crook of your ear.

You can’t imagine what he feels pulse across the contact of where your fingers rest lightly against his palm but you hope you’re not too obvious.

“Nayeon told me the two of you had a fight.” He admits. “I wanted to see if you’re ok.”

His curls his fingers upwards, wrapping them around your hand and shifts upwards, settling onto the edge of your mattress. You move back, and he beams when he has enough space to lie down parallel to you. He stretches out, still with your hand clasped between the two of you.

“I am.” You admit. “It was stupid to get upset, anyway.”

Taehyung shakes his head, and he’s close enough that his hair nearly tickles your forehead with the movement. Up close, you can see the way his pupils are shaped differently- you’d aways assumed they’d be round, like a humans, but instead they’re pointed, like tiny little stars, and his eyes have the slightest blue sheen over them as a default.

“It’s not stupid.” He reassures you. “You silly humans are always so quick to dismiss your feelings.”

He wraps two hands around one of yours and drags it up so that he can press the back of your hand to his cheek. His eyes flutter closed, and it’s a little too much. You’re not sure what he feels from you in that moment, but for whatever reason he chooses not to comment on the intense flood of emotions he is surely experiencing from you.

“I felt it last night.” He reminds you with a sigh, eyes still closed. His fingers tighten around yours just a fraction. “You were hurt- I felt it so clearly. That means that whatever happened last night hurt your feelings and it isn’t stupid for you to get upset. But I’m glad you’re feeling better, now.” He confesses. An eye blinks open to watch you curiously.

Silence hovers between you. It’s not a bad way to spend the morning, curled up against him with your hand in his. Maybe it’s something the two of you could have, if he wanted it too. Maybe you could spend lazy mornings with him blinking sleepily at you and warm morning sunshine tickling the edges of his cheeks. Or you could spend the evenings together, huddled under the warmth of a blanket while you watch silly movies together and his eyes sparkling at you like they are now, like he knows a secret that’s just for the two of you.

Your heart pulses and lurches, and you long for those things so fiercely you’re sure Taehyung is being bludgeoned with the onslaught of your longing and yet he doesn’t comment on it.

“Taehyung,” you say, and though your voice is barely above a whisper, it echoes too harshly and loudly between the two of you. “I’m sorry about how I acted last night.”

The expression he gives you is warm and yielding- like butter melting against toast.

“It’s ok.” He assures you. “As long as you’re ok, it has no matter.”

You smile at him, and the air between you heats. You can’t name what sensation crackles through the room, but your heart sits in your throat. Swallowing awkwardly, you’re suddenly too aware of your proximity, and Taehyung seems to be too from the uncertain look that has suddenly entered his eyes. You expect him to shift away, or pull back, or urge you to get ready so you can start the day now that the air has been cleared. But Taehyung makes no attempts to move.

Instead, just for the briefest moment, so quickly that you almost miss it, his gaze flickers down to your mouth.

And then he’s lurching suddenly out of bed just in time for Jin’s shout to echo down the hallway.

“Any stragglers who don’t get out of bed now don’t get any pancakes!” He calls.

Taehyung scrambles out of the bed, still not quite looking at you.

“We better get going!” He exclaims, voice cheerful and without a trace of the moment that had hovered between you before. “Otherwise we won’t get to go canooking!”

He’s out the door before you can correct him on the terminology, and you stare in bewilderment after him.

For a long moment, you just sit there, dumbfounded in your bed, before you allow a smile to soften your face. You’re glad Taehyung is largely unaffected by your behaviour last night, and there’s still time to enjoy the trip with him.

There’s just one thing you have to do first.

Nayeon is moping by the pier when you eventually find her. She sits, idly swinging her legs over the edge of the wooden planks and forlornly watching her friends splash around in the warm autumn morning. Taehyung remains onshore, trying to master the movements of the paddle while Jungkook swings it around like it’s a weapon. You’re going to have to teach him to do it properly at some stage but for now you have more important things to do.

Like cheering up the birthday girl.

“Here.” You say. You had intended to give the gift at the start of the trip, but between Nayeon’s strange behaviour and the chaos that had ensued following it, the opportunity had been lost.

Now is as good a time as any, however, and you set the small wrapped box next to her.

“I know you said no gifts, but I also know you were secretly hoping people would buy you gifts anyway.” You sigh, settling down beside her and swings your legs over the edge. The surface of the lake just wets the bottom of your reef shoes and little ripples of water spread out from where the soles of your feet make contact.

Nayeon eyes it suspiciously, before leaning forward and plucking the box off the floor. She shakes it once, twice, before eagerly tearing at the wrapping paper.

“I’m sorry.” You say, as she makes tears through the paper. Her fingers pause, mid-task, and dark eyes flicker to stare at you tentatively.

“For what?” She asks. You shrug- discomfort swirls in your chest, but despite your reluctance, the words must be said. Because even though you had been strangely hurt by Nayeon’s scheming, she had acted out of hurt too. And Taehyung’s right- it’s wrong to just dismiss her feelings like that. If she got hurt, then those feelings are real.

“For over-reacting last night.” You confess. And then you shoot her a furtive look out if the corner of your eye. “But also for making you feel insecure enough that you couldn’t just come and talk to me. That’s not what friends do.”

Nayeon stares at you for a long moment, before dropping her gaze back to the present. Her hands tremble as she carefully resumes unwrapping it. It takes her a moment to gather enough composure to reply.

“I didn’t know you’d be so upset by it.” She admits. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you actually liked him. I just thought… I thought it was like every other thing in your life, where you don’t actually care who comes and goes.”

You stare at her in surprise.

“Is that what you think?” You wonder aloud. “That I don’t care?”

Strangely, you’re not offended by her assumption- after all, isn’t it what you are constantly trying to convince yourself? That you don’t care? That people can come and go?

The thing is, you do care. No matter how much you try and convince yourself, you care too much.

“You seem like you don’t.” She admits. Her gaze turns back to the shoreline, catching on Taehyung who is now splashing idly in the shallows with his paddle with the same fascination a child might hold. “But you do. And as your friend, I should be able to recognise things like that.”

She finally finishes unwrapping the gift, and her eyes widen at the content inside.

It’s the trigger she needs- finally, she meets your gaze.

“I don’t think you over-reacted at all.” She confesses. “You got jealous, is all. That happens. That’s normal. And it’s my fault for forgetting that you’re human just like the rest of us.”

Her gaze flicks down to the gift, a necklace she had been eyeing for months but always lost the opportunity to buy.

“I feel like I don’t deserve this.” She says. And then she looks back to you. “I’m sorry too. It was wrong if me to try and sabotage your friendship with him. Even if you didn’t like him, it still would have been wrong. People got hurt because I was being silly.”

You smile awkwardly at her.

“It’s ok. We both acted dumb last night. And, for the record, I do care about you. Somewhat.” You reassure her.

She stares at the box with a sigh, before smiling at you.

And then she sets the box down and slaps her own cheeks so aggressively you yelp in surprise.

“Enough mushy talk!” She cries suddenly. She points at you aggressively. “It’s my birthday! Time to enjoy things! You’re coming in my canoe.”

You glance over your shoulder at Taehyung, back on the shoreline.

“But what about-“ you protest.

“He can “kanook” with you over my cold, dead body, (Y/N).” She asserts a little too seriously. “Now that I know you like him like that I’m gonna have to fight twice as hard if I want your attention.”

She grabs you by the wrist, dragging you towards the boat-shed and ignoring your squawked protests.

She does throw you one little boon, over her shoulder though.

“He rejected Rose, by the way. She asked him to go to some lookout together and he said he couldn’t because you’re afraid of heights.”

And it’s wrong to smile but you do anyway. Crushes are weird like that.

#taehyung x reader #tae x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts scenario #writing #anis farewell

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multifandomfix · 2 years ago

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Hypnotic Suggestion - Bedelia Du Maurier

Summary: You have a problem with needing to control everything in your life, and Bedelia decides to help you find a way to relinquish that control.

Word Count: 1,523

Warnings: Hypnosis, dubious consent, submissive!reader, cunnilingus

You were anxious. You always felt that way when you came and sat in Bedelia's office for one of your sessions. It wasn’t her. Heavens no, you’d always felt comfortable with her as your therapist. She was professional, understanding, and kind. And though her striking good looks had intimidated you upon your first meeting, you adjusted past your immediate aesthetic crush on the woman, and established a rapport of trust and safety with her.

Yet at this session in particular, you were having a tough time. You felt something tingling at the back of your mind, like it was begging to come to the forefront. Bedelia could already sense something was off with you but she never made you feel like your feelings weren’t justified, regardless of what they were. "Would you like to tell me what’s on your mind," she asked.

If you knew what was eating at you, you might have done just that, but that was the thing, you didn’t know. It was just a feeling, a daunting, nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite shake. "I…don’t know how," you finally told her. It was the truth, even if you couldn’t voice it as accurately as you wanted to.

“We could always try hypnosis,” Bedelia suggested. The mere notion sent a shiver running through your entire body. You’d heard about hypnosis as a therapeutic technique, but it was its other uses that were crossing your mind right now. The thought of being under Bedelia’s influence and control was alluring, but not something you’d ever be able to do under normal circumstances. Of course, you shouldn’t be thinking such things at all, but for some reason you couldn’t help yourself. You guessed your crush on her hadn’t fully been eclipsed by the prioritizing of your professional relationship with her.

You looked up to see a knowing glint in Bedelia’s eye, like she knew how you were about to respond. “Yes.” The word fell out of your mouth naturally, though you couldn’t recall having consciously decided to say it. A soft smile painted Bedelia’s lips as you accepted her invitation to be hypnotized.

“Very well. Close your eyes,” she instructed, her voice low and even, already setting the mood for you to fall into this altered state of consciousness. You did as she bid you to, giving your total trust over to her. “Now, count back from ten, and when you reach the end, you may open your eyes.”

You began to count down, feeling yourself slip into a different state of mind, a calmer, more open version of yourself. As you spoke the numbers aloud, they kept sounding further and further away as if you were going down a tunnel, listening to the echoes as you traveled from one end to the other. When you reached the end, you opened your eyes, as she’d instructed. There was a distinct shift in the air. It was subtle, but powerful. The room now smelled of vanilla and sage. “Welcome back to me, my darling,” Bedelia greeted, drawing your attention to her. “Are you ready to pick up where we left off last time?”

You slid forward to the edge of your chair and lowered yourself gently to the floor. You crawled to her on your hands and knees. "There’s my good little pet," she praised. She could easily lose her license for this, having you in this state, submitting to her, but you had been the one to ask for it. It had taken several sessions for Bedelia to finally accept your pleas for this sort of hypnosis, but she’d eventually given in.

You wished to remain —at least in the beginning— unaware of your time spent in Bedelia's service, and Bedelia thought that would be best as well. You’d explore your submissive side under the hypnosis, yet remain fully consenting, as she was not controlling your mind, but rather freeing it to allow you to relinquish control on your own, something you struggled so much with, that you’d come to see her in the first place.

You could still make your own choices under her hypnosis, and you did so with ease when she presented you the option. Yet there was always review of your safe word upon entering this submissive state. And there came the question now.

"What is our safe word," Bedelia asked.

"Stiletto," you replied. She had been wearing a pair at the time of your first foray into this hypnotized submission, and so the word had stuck as your safe word.

"Very good. Do you want to try something different today?"

You thought it over a moment, both intrigued and apprehensive about a change to your routine. But as you were, you always liked to please Bedelia, so you knew your answer. "If you think I am ready, then yes," you agreed. Satisfied with your response, Bedelia smiled. What she had planned was definitely out of your ordinary repertoire, but she did think you were ready for it.

Her plan was to pull you slowly out of your hypnotized state, allowing your mind to merge this hypnotic side of yourself with your usual self. You’d come so far in your sessions with her, both in and out of hypnosis that with a series of words, spoken in the right order, she believed you were ready to handle such a merge. With the safe word already fresh in your mind, Bedelia felt confident enough to continue, figuring if she was wrong about your progress, today you may finally make use of it.

"Are you ready for me," Bedelia asked. You nodded eagerly, excited for whatever she wanted of you today. "Stand and help me with my skirt. You are to push it up, and not pull it off."

You did as ordered, rising to your feet at the same time as Bedelia and pushing her skirt up over her hips. Your mouth watered as you realized she was already bare and waiting for you, forgoing any sort of underwear. You watched her walk to the couch and lay back on it, crooking a finger, beckoning you to join her. "Come here. I want your mouth on me," she instructed.

Bedelia kicked off her shoes as you approached. You fell to your knees for her once more, positioning your head between her legs. Bedelia gasped as your breath ghosted against her, your tongue quickly replacing the sensation. All too pleased to finally be of service to her, you got a little carried away.

"Slowly," Bedelia admonished. "Don't rush."

You slowed your pace, focusing on the signals Bedelia's body was giving you rather than your own excitement at being put to use for her pleasure. But as hard as you tried to focus, you found yourself distracted, Bedelia’s words floating around in your mind. It was almost as if you were of two minds.

And then it all flooded you in a rush. Your therapy, your work on letting go of control in your day to day life, and the hypnosis. You recalled all the times you'd served at Bedelia's whim and as your mind came to terms with your dual reality, your body went on autopilot, not fully out of your submissive state.

Finally, you paused, pulled back from her and Bedelia knew her words must have worked. What you’d choose to do from here was a mystery to her at that moment, and she sat up, pulling her skirt down just far enough for some semblance of modesty as she waited for you to adjust. You stared blankly for several minutes, trying to process such a chunk of missing information all at once. Then you turned to Bedelia, your eyes focusing themselves on hers. The desire for control you so desperately wished to let go of had been relinquished to this woman. While you didn’t yet know what this would mean for your life outside of this office, you knew it had fundamentally changed you.

Here and now you would give her anything she asked for. You wanted to. "How are you feeling," Bedelia finally dared to ask.

"Free," you responded.

"You know what’s been happening?"

You nodded. "Yes."

"Do you want to stop?"

"I didn’t say the safe word, now did I?" You smirked at Bedelia, and she was surprised to say the least. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from you, but she had thought you may need some time to come to terms with it all. Yet it appeared you didn’t. "I want to finish what I started," you said. "If you’ll let me."

Bedelia once again laid back on the couch, but she wasn’t about to surrender the control she had. You wanted to finish what you’d started, and that meant she still had sway over you. Her legs rested over your shoulders and back as you resumed eating her out, holding you down on top of her. "Don’t stop," Bedelia breathed, half an order, and half a plea. And you didn’t stop until Bedelia came on your tongue. Maybe this submission thing wasn’t all bad. You’d give up control to her any day.

For anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Bedelia Du Maurier: @brwnicons, @floraltxt, @mattxxamryli, @caroldelblue

#bedelia du maurier #bedelia du maurier one shot #bedelia du maurier x reader #hannibal #hannibal one shot #request

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number1mingyustan · 2 years ago

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Away From Us (10:38PM) ✹

fwb!au, yeonjun x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Friends With Benefits Au

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), cursing, yelling, mild violence, toxic ass relationship, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol

Summary: Yeonjun doesn’t believe your claims of being over him, and deep down inside neither do you.

Word Count: 1.7k

(a/n: genuinely so sorry it took me so long to post this, i’m gonna try to update every weekend. and this will be a part 3 for this)

It’s been about a month since you’ve last seen Yeonjun. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to go this long without contact.

Your relationship operated in a cycle. Him and Ara would fight, he would get upset and come to you. Aside from that, he really only came to you (or had you come to him rather) when he was bored or simply felt like it.

However, he stayed on your mind constantly. Every time he crossed your mind, you felt a swell in your chest. Your heart tightens with discomfort. You’re not going back to him.

The moment you closed the door to his apartment after your last encounter you were unable to hold back your tears. You sobbed, walking the walk of shame back to your car before locking the doors. You screamed, you cried, but most importantly you’d made up your mind about him.

After a little bit of a tantrum you were left with a clear head. You were going to cut him off. No more late night texts or calls, no more one sided love, no more him.

Funnily enough, it’s 10:38 pm and Yeonjun is bored. Zara’s out of town for some girl’s weekend and he’s got some time to himself. Oddly enough, the call doesn’t go through when he tries to call you.

He tries it again.

Nothing.

That’s weird, you always answer the phone.

What’s truly odd to him is the fact that the call isn’t even going through. Maybe she just forgot to charge it.

He knows you’re home right now, and he truly considers going over to your place. Granted, he’s bored horny and his girlfriend is out of town. However, actively seeking you has never been a thing for Yeonjun.

Actively pursuing a woman at that. They always sort of came to him naturally, he loved it. Watching girls just like you come back every single time because they couldn’t get enough of him. Isn’t it every mans’s dream?

Sure, there were those few times he drunkenly ended up at your apartment because you were on his mind and he gave the uber your address. But actively chasing after a woman, Choi Yeonjun would never.

Besides, the only reason he wound up at your place those few times was because he wanted to hook up and not have to deal with Ara for the night. You’d never had the heart to kick him out, allowing him to spend the night.

And when he did, you always an advil and water next to the side he slept on and made breakfast. He’d be out of your hair immediately after he ate, nonetheless he was living the life. Free meal, warm bed, no nagging from Ara, and incredible sex? He just might have to show up drunk to your place more often.

Matter of fact, he thinks he’ll do it sober.

A loud knock on your door startles you, completely shifting your attention from the Netflix show playing in front of you. You climb off your bed, adjusting your oversized hoodie before making your way to the door.

You raise onto your tippy toes to look through the peephole only to see… Yeonjun? Your throat goes dry and you swear your heart momentarily stops beating.

You figure he must be drunk again , and decide in your mind that’s you’ll just call and uber for him and send him off.

You unlock the door, opening it halfway. His tall figure looks down at you with a smirk as he leans against your door frame.

You stare back at him blankly. Your heart is racing in your chest. It’s only been two weeks since you’ve seen him, why is this so hard for you?

“Hi baby,” he smirks. “I missed you.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably at the sound of his words.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Just told you I missed you,” he says, entering your apartment without invitation.

He closes the door behind him. You look at him dumbfounded. He chuckles. “What? Didn’t miss me?” he jokes.

“Have you been drinking?” you question, ignoring his.

“Nah,” he tells you truthfully. You don’t let it show, but his response takes you by surprise. He actually came to see you? And while sober?

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly. “Why are you here?”

There’s a moment of silence. Now it’s his turn to look at you dumbfounded. He’s not used to seeing you like this. You feel a breeze through the room, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

“Ara’s out of town on some dumb girl’s trip for the weekend. Tried calling you but your phone’s dead, Figured I’d come over and have our fun while she’s away,” He breaks the silence.

His eyes scan your body, surely taking note of the fact that you’re only wearing a hoodie right now. Your thighs are exposed, he doubts your wearing any shorts under there. Just a pair of panties, maybe even the whole silk ones he loves so much.

He takes a step closer to you, causing your back to hit the wall. His face is inches away from yours. His plump lips ghost over yours, his hooded eyes filled with lust. He licks his lips before holding you by your waist.

He leans in to kiss you, but you stop him. You place a hand on his chest, lightly nudging him back. “I think you should go.”

What? Yeonjun lets out an airy laugh. “Are you trying to play hard to get or something? Don’t mind if you wanna switch it up.”

There’s no way you’re being serious right now. You always come back to him. You’ve been sleeping together for months, there was no way you wanted to end things.

You look up at him. “Yeonjun, go home.”

Upon eye contact, the air in the room grows thick. He searches your face for any sign of doubt. You were always so easy to read, which sends shivers up his spine because in this moment he knows you’re dead serious.

What the hell has gotten into you?

“Are you serious right now?” he asks out of disbelief. “I’m telling you we have the whole weekend to ourselves and you’re telling me to leave?”

“I have plans this weekend anyway,” you lie.

“Baby I know you’re not busy tonight,” he scoffs. “Besides there’s no way I couldn’t known since your phone is dead.”

You cut him off. “My phone’s not dead, I blocked your number.”

A beat.

The room goes quiet. He stares at you blankly. Yeonjun isn’t used to you being like this, he’s never experienced anything remotely similar. Someone rejecting him? You rejecting him? It was unheard of.

Surely after a month you would need him. You always needed him. That’s how the relationship worked. He came to you when he wanted you because he knew you always needed him. You loved him. You were supposed to always be there when he wanted you.

Yeonjun didn’t like this ‘new you’ one bit. So he did want he always did when things went wrong and he didn’t have control, he got angry.

He frowns. “You fucking blocked me?”

He grabs your wrists, gripping them tightly so you can’t push him away again. “Let go of me!”

“You fucking bitch,” he snaps.

You wriggle in his unwaivering grasp, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. “Yeonjun stop! You’re hurting me!”

“You think you can just cut me off? You fucking slut! What you’re done opening your legs and ruining relationships? You really are pathetic Y/n.”

You’re unable to hold back, the hot tears stream down your face as you weakly attempt to get out of his grasp. “Let go!” you sob. “You’re hurting me.”

He finally obliges, releasing his grip. You move quickly, jerking your arms back and removing yourself from the wall. You’re still crying, softly running your fingers along your wrists to soothe the pain.

“G-Get out!” You sob.

He scoffs again. “Gladly.”

Yeonjun walks out your apartment just as quickly as he walked in. He walks out with his head held high, but truthfully there’s a gut wrenching tug at his heart. It’s almost like he can hear every thump of the blood pumping into his heart. It feels heavy, like it suddenly weighs a ton and someone has ripped it from out of his chest. He swears he can feel it constricting, tighter and tighter until the point it just… breaks.

Why was it so hard for him to see you cry? Why did his hands feel so dirty after he touched you. He just willingly walked out of your life, why the fuck does he even care?

Meanwhile you’re a sobbing mess, curled up on your kitchen floor. You don’t even realize all the emotions you’ve had bottled up over the past month until now. You’re crying so hard, it’s difficult to breathe. You gasp for air, trying your absolute best to calm down.

——————-

It’s hard to sleep that night. For Yeonjun at least. Granted, you cried yourself to sleep, but at least you’d managed to get to a point where you could rest.

The same couldn’t be said for Yeonjun.

He tossed and he turned all night. When on his side, he stared at the empty spot on the bed next to him. The sheets no longer provided him any warmth, the air felt frigid.

The idea of wanting Ara back in bed never crossed his mind, rather he thought about you. It wasn’t until this moment that it dawned on him. You’d never slept in his bed.

Sure you’d done unspeakable things with him there, but he’s never experienced sleeping next to you. Watching as your breath rises and falls

He finds himself smiling at the thought. Do you snore? Do you sleep on your back or your side? Left Side? Right side? Definitely not your stomach. Maybe you mumble in your sleep, or cuddle even. Yeah, you’re probably the type to cuddle in your sleep.

He groans, mentally agonizing. Why does he even care? He’s been with the same girl nearly three years and these thoughts never did so much as cross his mind.

His head falls back into the pillow with a soft thud. The only thing Choi Yeonjun knew in this moment was that he fucked up and was completely and utterly screwed.

_______________________________________________

I never said anything about an official tag list, but it took me a while to actually upload this so I’m tagging everyone who asked for a pt 2!

@jisootears - @lyluvsgyu - @alienqbrain - @sbhkst - @dimguin - @x-veex - @heeseungsshoulders - @junieshohoho

#txt fanfic #txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #kpop #txt yeonjun

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

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twenty questions (7/8) | r.b.

summary: No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you. Or, after four years, Reiner meets you once more.

WARNINGS: angst, just conversation, a bit of violence, mentions of trauma, children ummmmm yeee, jean also appears <3 true king pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: reiner returns!! welcome to the penultimate chapter and thank you for being on this journey with me :) again, song is not mine! it’s the wellerman sea shanty hehe

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Morning streams through the curtains.

You part the billowy white fabric, pushing open the window breathing in the late morning air. As always, it’s warm and ripe with the aroma of the fresh bread from the bakery you live above, and as you lean on the windowsill, you hear the door below you chiming with new patrons. You smile to yourself, resting your chin on your hand.

Even still, you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is, especially in the streets here, far away from a industrial zone. The Liberio interment zone is small, yes, but it’s no less beautiful. The architecture of brick and glass all hold an austere beauty, and when the sunset is upon you, the shadows they cast and the warmth that embraces the stone is something you’ve never quite seen before. There’s a church, and you’ve sat inside day a few days before, watching the light stream through the stained glass in amazement.

A knock at the door takes you from your thoughts and you let out a sharp noise of surprise, gaze ripping away from the busy streets. A tremor shoots through you and you swallow harshly, waiting in bated breath.

“The shop’s busy as bees, today!” your landlord admonishes on the other side. You let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a bit. “If you want, I can still save you a loaf!”

“No, thank you!” you shout over your shoulder, reaching to close the window and get ready for the day. Sliding a warm vest onto your shoulders, you adjust the hat on your head and grab your bag from the counter, your bare fingers a bit cold and numb.

You burn at the thought of Reiner. You don’t want to see him, even if you live in the same city now, but all the same, it’s hard to avoid him. After all, it’ll only be so long before you’re forced to confront your past, push yourself into his way because how long, really, can you stay away from him? As you slide the white armband onto your bicep, your heart tightens. You’ve seen the man he’s grown into—handsome, tired, lonely. That only reflects in you.

Pulling your arms through your jacket, you stare at the woodgrain beneath your feet emptily.

Why am I even here?

Coming to Marley, of all places. Some days, you can’t wrap your head around it, before you’re reminded of the reason. It all has a purpose. You just have to keep going—keep moving forward.

Continuing through your loft, you shove your feet into boots and head out for the day. The festival’s tonight—you have lots to do before then.

Night slips in.

Reiner frowns when he realizes he’s walking back to the stage. He’s been trailing after the sound for a good half-hour, but considering they stay relatively nearby his final destination, he’s never felt the urge to detract.

He still can’t place the tune that’s been hummed, whistled, sang gently and leading him on, and as the sky darkens and the crowd noise grows louder, he realizes that his trail is slowly growing colder and colder.

“Hey, Reiner!” His head swivels to find Gabi waving at him and he meanders over, frowning a bit. “Where’d you go? The others said you wandered off.”

“I took a walk to clear my head,” he says dismissively, ignoring her frown deepening. “I see you’ve recovered from your food coma.” Immediately, Gabi’s frown turns into a pout and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” He snorts, turning to survey the area. The others are milling about. Zeke and Colt are talking by the bench, and Pieck and Porco are off together, as usual. They’re not half as inconspicuous as they think they are. Finding Udo and Zofia, his brow wrinkles when he can’t catch sight of a certain blond boy.

“Where’s Falco?”

“He ran off earlier, saying he saw someone he knew,” Gabi says, waving it away. “He’s always being so weird. Who else could he know besides us?”

“What, are you jealous?” he teases, ruffling Gabi’s hair and she lets out a squawk, smacking at his hand. Chuckling gently, he surveys the area again as they walk towards their seats. Zeke and Colt give him a nod in greeting, one he returns.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” he replies distantly. His eyes keep searching, a ticklish feeling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if he can really hear that tune still at the edge of his hearing, nagging for his attention. Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What Falco does during his free time isn’t on your need-to-know basis, Gabi.”

“I know. I’m just saying—he doesn’t even have any friends besides us,” she says pointedly just as someone calls his name.

“Mister Braun!” Falco skids to a stop in front of him, his forehead gleaming with sweat, even in the cooler night air. Panting, he leans forward on his knees, meeting Reiner’s eyes, and Gabi tilts her head, confused and agitated and betraying her previous aloof words.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Ignoring her, Falco continues to try and catch his breath, barely punching out, “Can you come with me?” before looking down at the floor again, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly Reiner almost feels bad for him.

He frowns. “Right now?”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures. The two look at the older man who glances at his watch. “It shouldn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Reiner debates it for a moment. Then again, it’s not like he’s the number one fan of this show. His presence is for appearance’s sake at this point, and if Falco insists, then it must be something important. Sighing, he nods and Falco takes off again. Telling Gabi to explain his absence to his mom should he not return in time, he walks after the sprinting boy, his mind a whirlwind on the possibilites of why he’s in such a hurry.

Falco stops past a blue curtain that’s near a residential building and points at the arch, smiling. His entire face is flushed and Reiner cocks an eyebrow, approaching closer before hearing a soft voice singing. It only grows as he passes by the blue partition, and his heart picks up as his eyes widen.

“…The Captain's mind was not on greed… But he belonged to the whaleman's creed… She took that ship in tow… Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin' is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He knows that tune. The sailors sang it in the port city after Fort Slava. It’s one of their sea shanties—it’s rare to hear them anywhere except by the water, and when he reaches Falco, searching for that voice, his eyes fix on a figure leaning against the archway underneath the building.

The woman in purple.

Falco runs up to her. A hand is on her bicep when she shifts to look at the boy, and Reiner’s throat swells as his legs move on their own accord. Time seems to slow as Falco turns around, mouth open in words that go in through one ear, and out the other.

The woman says something, and Falco twists back, frowning a bit, but she only nods encouragingly, and off he goes, running on ahead, down to the end of the pathway out of Reiner’s sight.

A strangled noise leaves his mouth as the blond slips from his view.

The woman in purple’s head snaps up at the sound, and Reiner’s entire body locks when he finally recognizes the face that searches his impassively. The white armband is covered still by her fingers, but when she pushes off the wall, it’s almost as if she bewitches him to come even closer.

And he does, his hand lifting up to reach for her. Reach for what has to be a ghost. No…

No, it can’t be. No. No, I’m seeing things, I am, I—

You lift your hand off your armband, and when his fingers meet your palm, he feels your warmth, the way your skin slides against his as he interlaces their fingers, and he chokes, entire body burning from the inside out as you fold your fingers over his palm, yank him into the shadow with enough force to unbalance him. You side-step and fling his hand off, let him crash to his hands and knees. Pain shoots up his joints and his eyes widen when he realizes his skin has scraped off on the stone.

“Hello, Reiner,” you murmur. He draws himself up, and there’s a strange lifelessness as he looks up to a face barely illuminated by light. You unbutton your jacket and crouch before him, arms on your knees. His skin steams and stitches itself back together and he swallows through a dry throat as your eyes flutter to the white wisps. There’s a raw damage lingering on your face, haunting like ghosts that should be long dead, before you blink.

Your long coat brushing the floor covers black armour, harnesses criss-crossing your legs and body. Your expression is severe, lips pressed in an impassive line, dark shadows under your eyes. The armband around your bicep is slathered in dark red, staining the symbol.

So that’s what you were hiding from Falco.

Reiner half-wonders who’s blood it is. If it’s the owner of the clothes you wear, or someone else’s entirely.

You lift your head, staring at Reiner properly for the first time in years. Clenching your jaw, you only look. You do not speak, you do not move. It’s terrifying. It reminds Reiner eerily of Captain Levi, with the same chillingly placidity, and he remembers how you used to smile so wide you’d complain your cheeks ached, how you would lean against him, clutching your gut ‘cause he made you laugh, and he had never heard a sound so perfect—

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane?”

You barely move. Only tilt your head mockingly. “Probably.”

Four years has changed you into a taller, leaner, stronger soldier—and he can only soak that in. You’re…

His breath catches in his throat.

You’re beautiful.

But you’re crouching right in front of him, and you’re in danger. If Marleyans were to approach now, he’s not sure if he could lie his way out and that blood. How can he explain the blood on your sleeve?

You’d be left for dead, hanged for the crows.

The image flashes through his mind like cold dread, a trickling drip of an icicle hanging in his mind and freezing his spine.

No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you.

It is why he demands again through a hissed breath,“What are you doing here?” Why he stands up quick enough that their heads nearly collide, and you straighten up as well, smoothly running your hands over your coat.

You only look at him deftly as if he is as inconsequential to you as a roach. You don’t even twitch as his hand reaches forward, fighting through the searing ache in his chest. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I can smuggle you back to the port and take you home, I—.”

Your stare paralyzes him and his hand falters. “I don’t take orders from you. You are not my commanding officer, and I do not need you to tell me what I need.” Your fingers dig into the bloody armband at your bicep and Reiner’s eyes widen as you tear it off, planting it on his chest hard enough his lungs spasm and he lets out a sharp breath. Your fingers spread out over his chest, you step closer. “I don’t need you to save me. Not from Marley. Not from myself. And not from you.”

His hand comes to cover yours, but you slip out before he can touch you, and he’s left with an armband in his palm. Clutching it in a tight fist, he stares down at it for a moment before shoving it in his pocket and turning around.

Your name comes out of him without even thinking as you walk past him, and it must still hold something because you pause, head turning slightly to look at him. “I want to explain myself,” he chokes out, and the corner of your mouth curls into a hollow smile. “Please.”

“Follow me, Reiner,” you order softly, and without question, he falls half a step behind you, eyes trained on the ground. His head is swimming at your presence, and his knees are gummy, stomach convulsing as he tries to come up with what to say. Or maybe, what to say first. He’s had four years to come up with a proper way to say it, and he reaches for his breast pocket, where the letters he’s folded away rest, with shaking hands.

“Please…”

“I don’t know what you think begging will get you.” Something stony falls upon your face. “I’ve had four years to get over the fact that you used me. Now, I think I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure you have your reasons, but I don’t know if it’ll be the truth. You’ve had no problem lying to me before in the past.”

“That’s not true.” He doesn’t know to which part of what you said he means. The last part, every part. “I never lied about how I felt about you.”

“Right. Like I wasn’t just some pawn on your chessboard. Some lonely girl you could use to entertain yourself.” Your pace doesn’t slow, but your tone is laced with anguish you try so hard to cover. “At least Bertholdt had the courage to look me in the face and tell me he was going to kill me.” You stop by a crate, labelled as supplies for the play. Maybe they contain masks, or costumes, and Reiner stops, his shoes skidding against the stone as you reach into your coat.

Pulling out a knife, you wedge it into the crate and pry the lid off and Reiner’s entire body numbs when ODM gear gleams in the straw. It looks refashioned, sleeker, and in two parts, and he catches your hand reaching for the harness.

Weapons, here.

You aren’t stupid enough to take on Marley on your own, which can only mean—

Shit, shit, shit.

Dread trickles through his body.

“What are you two doing—Oh, Vice Chief Braun!” You slam the lid shut and press your left arm flush against Reiner’s body, covering it up as someone on their right approaches. Your hand tightens around the knife still wedged between the lid, and Reiner sets a hand on your shoulder, dragging you so he can cover you up better and as a warning.

Don’t do it. You’re stiff against him despite the easy expression on your face, and he sets a harsh glare on the intruder. Let go of that blade. Your entire body is rigid with a hot energy he doesn’t recognize as your fingers only tighten around the hilt. Don’t do it—

“Sorry to interrupt, but those are one of the crates we need for the play. It contains some costumes—“

The performer looks stricken as you flash him an easy smile and Reiner’s blood freezes when the stranger seems to blush, voice fading.

“I actually work with Lord Tybur,” you explain easily with a tiny laugh, betraying the strength in your fist. “He wants to inspect it briefly before I return it. I think it contains the Helos costume? Gotta make sure every detail’s to his liking!” Your tone, innocent and cheery, floats through the distant sound of the crowd, and Reiner only stares at the performer who seems to shrink in his skin. Your fingers twitch when he hesitates.

“Oh, of course.” He scratches the back of his head, and you give him a gracious nod before he’s walking away.

You watch him go, and Reiner feels the way the air shifts when your smile fades away as soon as it came. You step away from him, loosening the knife from the crate. His hands burn as he reaches for your shoulder again, but you jerk back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, staring at the lid, “all this time, I thought I had actually found people again, you know. I thought you actually cared about me, but really, I realized all you’ve ever done is lie. Even after everything. Even after Marco died, and I told you how I felt about you, you just kept lying. Lying and painting yourself to be a knight in shining armour.”

“I tried—I tried to stop myself from caring about you,” he whispers raggedly, hands rolling into fists tight enough that his nails dig into his flesh, “but it happened anyway. That part of who I was was never a lie.”

“So you never saw me as someone you needed to protect? As this poor, lonely girl who loved you? Who fed your ego and—”

“Of course I wanted to protect you! I loved you, too!” he snaps and distantly, he recognizes this is the first time they’ve ever confessed that what they had… that it was somehow real and too good for him. It nearly makes him shatter. “How could I—“ He closes his eyes, teeth gritting as the flames inside him roar, consuming his heart. “How could I just stand back and watch you get hurt by the consequences of my actions? It’s because of me you were forced to leave the farm, leave that girl. Because of me you knew Marco and Mina and Thomas. You could have been so much happier if you never met any of us—I knew that—I just thought I could somehow—”

“Happier if I never met you,” you echo blankly before nodding to yourself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.” He flinches but you continue on, “In the end, it doesn’t matter, though. I’ve learned to not let the what ifs haunt me, because my time with you… it still means everything to me.” You shake your head. “That’s the truth. You dropped a building on me and broke my bones. Truth. You left me alone in those walls with Bertholdt dead and Annie comatose, and you did so knowing you are the last damn person I’ve got that I’d kill for. Truth.”

Reiner’s eyes widen as your words sink into his skin like a vicious poison.

So that’s it then. Bertholdt is dead and Annie… Annie’s still alive?

You don’t give him a moment’s breath to ask as you take a step forward. On reflex, he steps back, hands raising, and your eyes flash to his palms. One wrong move, and a Titan will overtake the square. He’s sure he can read the thought in your eyes, but when you look at him again, he only sees cold indifference.

“You nearly killed me, Reiner. So tell me…”

Metal flashes and a breath stalls in his throat as a cold knifepoint digs into the bump along his throat. It bobs when he swallows, lips parted, and you meet his eyes, every inch of agony he’s forced upon you glaring back at him reforged.

“Why shouldn’t I repay the favour?”

His breath stalls, and he looks down at your fingers, wrapped tight around the hilt, nearly shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold the weapon that tightly, or if you’re just as afraid as he is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Do it, then,” he whispers. “I’m the reason this all happened.”

Your eyes, wide, search his beseechingly and his heart crumbles to dust. Even after all this time, you still hesitate. Why? Because you think he’ll come back? That he’s… redeemable somehow?

Reiner envies that—he wants to believe that there is still good. But there isn’t. He knows it.

“I have a thousand questions,” you murmur achingly, as if the words are wrenched from your throat. “Over the years, I’ve tried to come up with some incomprehensible list. I couldn’t decide which was the one I wanted answered the most, but I thought why did it matter? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever see you again. But here I am, now.”

As you lower the knife, the tip of the blade scratches his skin, light enough only to leave a white trail until it falls away, just like when he held you at blade-point four years ago, the tip of a sword digging into your sternum.

How poetic that he finds himself here, his life in your hands. This is your retribution, he supposes, and your mercy, fighting for control of your arm, but you sheathe your knife again with a sharp, smooth thrust at your hip. There’s a soft scrape before you set your hands atop the lid, sighing softly.

A terrifying glint lives in your eyes as you smile at him faintly, and hoist the crate into your arms.

“So, Reiner.” You tilt your head, gesturing for him to follow you down the pathway to a set of stairs that must lead to a deeper cellar. Somewhere he can’t transform in. Smart. You always were, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d never hurt you again, especially when he’s already done so much to prove that his words are empty. Yet, nothing is more important than protecting you, and Gabi, and Falco, but— “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

You flip a page. The day’s labour has you sweating into your harness, but all you want to do is just finish this damn chapter. Pulling carts out of mud like a damn mule wasn’t fun, but at least it had you busy. But, God, did you just want to relax for an eternity now.

Even after four years, you’d think your body would grow accustom, but every day, something new tests you.

“Hello?” a voice by your door calls and you look up from your book, smiling automatically at the kid peering into your room. He’s one of the younger orphans who didn’t come from the immediate wreckage of the fall of Trost but rather just a few months ago, you had found him in the woods, walking away from one of the smaller settlements.

You don’t ask, let him come and tell you more, and although you know his name, you know it’s hard for him to talk about anything else.

What you do know is that he is one that still climbs into your bed when there’s a thunderstorm, and that he’s a sweet, yet studious child with a knack for trouble when the girls invite him to hang out with them.

That doesn’t mean he’s any less attached. He’s probably the one who clings to you the most, and you get up, closing your book. Setting it down on the nightstand, you crouch in front of him and pat his head.

“Hi,” he says again.

“What’s going on, Xavier?” His red hair is still damp. He must’ve just taken his bath and he shrinks under your hand, probably to protect the clean smell clinging to his skin and locks. Lifting your hand amusedly, you tap his nose. He breaks out into a gap smile.

He lost his tooth just three days ago, and you remember how proud he was, bursting into the fields during study period to show you as you untied the horses from the plow.

“There’s a man who wants to see you.”

“A man?” You frown, looking over his shoulder. Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, you pull him into your room, out of the way of the door. “Did he say what his name was? Or if he was military?” The kids know the military insignias. Praying silently to yourself, you glance uneasily at your nightstand where a gun is hidden in the drawer. You could probably arm yourself in time. Xavier tugs at your ear. You look back at him, eyebrows creasing as you glance over his shoulder.

“He said his name was Jean and that you would know who he was. He’s waiting outside.”

“Jean?” you repeat sharply, standing. Xavier flinches, looking up at you, and you scoop him up before heading to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. Arms worm around your neck, and you squeeze the child closer to yourself as you quietly slip out into the hallway, towards where the other kids’ room is.

“Girls, close the door and lock it,” you order quietly, as you walk into the . The two sisters—Alina and Anya who share the room—look up from whatever they’re doing, and Anya gets up from her bed, but you merely send her a warning look as you “Everything’s okay. Anya’s in charge until I get back.”

She nods, and you set Xavier down but he doesn’t let go of your neck, hugging you tight to him. Letting out a strangled sigh, you slowly pull him away, cupping his face. Your heart is slow, steady, and you take a measured breath as Alina glances out the window that is right over their desk.

“I’ll be okay. I want to make sure we’re safe.” His eyes flicker over your face and you nod reassuringly. “You know what to do. Listen to Anya, alright? Try to get some sleep.” The redheaded boy nods and you stroke his cheek with a thumb before he scampers towards Anya’s bed. You stand.

You leave the room, shut it behind you as Alina draws the curtains shut, and your mind is thrumming with ideas of who it could be.

Entering the kitchen, you head to the porch with a quick glance at the window. There’s a figure leaning against the fence, back to you, and your fingers around your gun tighten. Draped in dark fabric and ash-brown hair shining in the oil lamps hanging on the porch, you can’t make out a face as you step into the bracing night.

“What do you want?”

The figure jolts to his feet, turning around. Edges dulled by the night, you can barely make out his features until he steps into the light, and your finger pad taps the trigger when brown eyes meet yours. Heart lurching, everything rushes back to you and you manage to control the sharp inhale, tempering it into a slow and steady breath that swells up in your lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he comments idly, and you swallow through the hard knot in your throat. Eyes flicking to the gun in your hand, the small smile that had been curving his lips drops away. “You’re a hard person to track.”

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but Captain Levi saw that some of us were getting desperate.”

Four years.

Four years since you’ve seen any of them except Captain Levi, who only visits to make sure you haven’t been raided by bandits and killed in the months between his check-ins.

In that time, seasons have changed, you’ve sprained your shoulder, it healed; you’ve been thrown off a horse, and gotten back up. You had a period where you would write letters every waking second you were left alone in your room, debating whether or not you should destroy them or send them just for the sake of feeling like you had someone again.

All those letters are still wedged in a box under your bed, so there’s that answer.

Jean stands at the bottom of your porch and you nod, gesturing for him to come in. Your heart plummets as you do so. You don’t know why Jean even bothered.

He closes the door behind you, and you set the gun on the dining table before moving towards the stove, and you ask him if he wants any tea, gracious host that you are. He shrugs and you begin to boil some water. It’ll give you time to look him over as he sits down.

He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since you last saw him. And he’s taller. Way taller than you remember. He’s gotten more muscle, holds himself differently, he’s… still Jean, in all respects, but he’s…

Tired.

You’re sure that’s one word you’re looking for.

Migrating to the hearth, you wonder if he’s doing the same to you. Studying you like you’re a stranger.

You start a fire, feeding it freshly chopped firewood from the day before and stoking it before letting it feast.

You never liked doing that before. Swinging an axe down on wood, watching it split. Now, it’s the only time you get alone to your thoughts. You don’t have to focus on chopping wood. All you have to do is swing an axe until it’s nothing more than muscle memory. You can just… be.

Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s why Reiner liked doing it.

You sigh, and grab the iron poker, keeping an eye on the stove. You don’t know if Jean wants to skip the small talk. You do, but mostly because you don’t like it when your old life comes into your new one. You can make yourself believe you can’t go back when no one’s here to remind you, and that the guilt won’t gnaw you until you’re only bones.

Absently, you remember Bertholdt used to like small talk—Jean seems less so.

“I have news. I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’re still military.”

“Not labelled a deserter, yet?” you inquire dryly. Everything is moving so slowly around you, yet so quickly. It’s a terrible sensation. “I feel honoured.”

“Let’s cut the shit, alright. What the hell are you doing here?”

“No idea.”

“You disappeared! No one had seen you in weeks—we thought you were dead until the captain came back with strict orders not to look for you, but do you know how ominous that sounds?” Something bites at your gut as you stare into the flames, and Jean shoots to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor. “You were our friend!”

His words sink into your shoulders, but you only blink, staring into the growing hearth.

“Don’t you care? You left!”

“I don’t regret it. It’s not like I’m begging to become a Scout again,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder at him. A sort of tiredness pulls at your eyes, and you stand up again, walking around the table. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jean. You came to me first.”

“I want you to care. I want you to come back and fight. Aren’t you remotely interested in what’s going on?”

“I know we have a train, now.” The pot begins to boil and you move towards it, taking out a tin and small metal spoon. “Historia is doing well as queen. At least, that’s what people are saying. She’s expecting. If you ever see her, tell her I’m happy for her.” Scooping leaves into the teapot, you pour the boiling water into the porcelain and let it steep.

Turning back around, your eyebrows rise when you see Jean has walked around the table. There’s not even a metre between them as he tosses something at you. Catching it, you realize it’s a rolled up newspaper and your heart drops. At his nod, you pry it open and read the contents, fingertips brushing over two rectangular slips of paper within stating a time and terminal.

“What is this?”

“Eren’s gone to Marley by himself. Probably to do something stupid. I have two tickets to go and rescue his scrawny ass.”

“And?” Dread knots at your stomach as Jean closes his eyes, exhaling softly. Pleading, then: “Jean, don’t.”

“You’re the least compromised out of all of us. None of the volunteers would recognize you or would have been able to relay information about you if they have allies back in Marley, and despite everything, I still trust you. Which is more than I can say for Yelena and the others.” You snap the paper shut and toss it onto the table. Shaking your head to yourself, you walk away from him, but Jean only grabs your arm. “You still have a duty to our nation.”

“Don’t try to plead to my sense of national pride,” you shoot back coolly. “I have other responsibilities.”

“What, like tending to wheat?”

“Everyone wants to kill us, so yes, tending to wheat.”

“If we don’t find Eren, they will kill us. He’s our one chance of getting out of this mess alive. As crazy as he is, he’s our one ticket to freedom and we need to find him.”

Turning around to face him, you pull your arm free of his grasp. The lantern hanging is glaringly bright, and something knots in your throat at Jean’s somber expression.

“I fought for our freedom and you know what I realized? There will always be more people out there who want to take that away from us.” You wish you could sound passionate, but you just sound rough and tired. The bite tastes different. “First, it was Titans, then, it was the people we called our friends. Do you think that we’ll ever be free? That we’ll be able to live without a sword above our necks. Levi told me we’re devils in everyone else’s eyes. What’s it matter?”

“Because we aren’t what they say we are. If you lay down and show your belly, why did you become a soldier in the first place?” You jerk back and Jean leans against the table, crossing his arms. “I thought you fought for a dream. Something. Anything.”

“I thought I did, too. I’m just…” A hissing breath, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, turning away. Images of the lake back from their cadet years flash in your head. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” he repeats icily. “You think the rest of us aren’t tired? We all haven’t had the luxury to sit down on a farm and escape all our responsibilities.”

Head snapping up, your eyes find cold brown chips staring back. Bitterly, you grit out, “Excuse me?”

“Do you think there’s a day that goes by where I think about Marco and how I wasn’t there for him? We all lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s had to go through it. We’re all guilty of something, but at least, I didn’t give up! At least, some of us decided to do something about it!”

“Shut up!” A hand flies through the air but he catches your wrist and twists, pinning you down to the table. Another hand slams your other hand into the wood and you grunt as Jean wedges himself between your legs to stop you from kicking him. Eyes burning, you stare up into the face of your friend and in that moment, the sorrow overflowing spills into your chest as if you are a well and he is the flood.

He sinks, elbows clacking against the table as he bows his head. His breath is rushed, cool against your face, and you search his features before uttering out a quiet, “Why did you really come here, Jean?”

His eyes widening, his hands loosen. You try to suck your tears back in, but your eyes are burning so intensely you have to let them fall anyway just as there’s a sharp gasp. Jean looks up before he jerks back as if you’ve really slapped him. Sitting up, you twist to look at the doorframe, and your heart drops into your gut when you see a redheaded boy, eyes shining with tears.

“What are you doing?” he cries, and you immediately launch yourself off the table, crossing the distance towards him as Anya appears over his shoulder, helpless. The brunette girl’s guilt punches through you and you lift Xavier up into your arms, hugging him tight before wrapping another arm around the girl and poking your head into the hall.

Alina’s figure is a mere shadow at the end of the hall, and you sigh, gesturing for her to come. Taking off at a sprint, she charges down the hall and you bury your nose in Anya’s hair just as another body slams into you, latching onto your waist. You close your eyes as Xavier tries to snuggle even deeper into your neck.

“I’m okay,” you keep repeating. “Just a heat of the moment thing. I promise, he’s not here to hurt us. I promise.”

“Are you okay?” Anya murmurs, and you look down. The eldest girl’s pulled her head back to look at you. Her eyes are narrowed, perceptive as always, and her lips are upturned into a faint scowl. You smile faintly, running a hand over her head.

“I will be. Why don’t you take them back to your room?” you advise, and her eyes wander from you to Jean again. Catching it, you brush your thumb along her temple soothingly. “Go.” Reluctantly, she lets go of you and turns to Alina who still latches onto you like a parasite, but you rest a palm atop her head. “Alina.”

A sniff, and then she steps back, rubbing at her face. Her older sister takes her shoulders, easing her away and you crouch down as Xavier silently grabs onto your shirt tighter in his tiny fists.

“Xavier,” you soothe. “I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” You tilt your head. “I promise.” Wiping at his tears, you wait for him to let go of your shirt on his own accord, and when he does, you brush his hair back from his brow and plant a kiss on his forehead. Anya calls his name softly down the hall, and he lingers for a moment more before walking away, head still over his shoulder so he can watch.

You stay crouched until he’s gone and then you let out a soft exhale, head dropping, eyes closing.

“We need you more than you probably need us,” Jean acknowledges quietly, and your eyes open again to look at him. He’s straightened himself up, watching you with softer eyes. He visibly swallows, and you wonder if it’s pity or jealousy in his eyes. “But, we’re outnumbered in trusted senior officers in the Survey Corps. You’re one of them.”

Quietly: “I shouldn’t be.”

He falters for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose not.” He grabs the newspaper again. “But somehow, you are. If Captain Levi trusts you, then so do I. Bertholdt is dead. Annie’s a frozen log in a basement somewhere, and Reiner’s still alive. So are you.” He extends the paper to you. “This is what guilt got us. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown? There’s water nearby. We can go in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

You haven’t seen a lake in who knows how long. Not since your cadet years, it feels like. Your heart yearns for the blue expanses, to plunge into the cold depths and gasp at how cold it is. You thought you’d given that up, but just there mere thought of it sends your mind spiralling into the images you’ve dreamed of since you were a child.

“Regret begets regret—don’t have any when you go, and maybe you’ll live a life happier than most.”

You know you’ll never forgive yourself if you never take the chance to see him again. Heart peeling in your chest, you grab the newspaper from him.

“They call it the sea, don’t they?” you finally ask. Jean nods. “A lot of water and there’s… there’s animals in there.”

“Yeah. They live in this salty water and… they eat seafood a lot in Marley. I don’t know if you know.”

“Reiner might’ve mentioned it before,” you say. You look down at the newspaper in your tight fist and swallow. All at once, one door closes and another opens, and you look at Jean, the date and time of the ship already burned into your memory. “He said he thought I’d like it. I guess I’ll keep that in mind when we go.”

Jean’s eyes widen as you hand the paper back to him, your palm scalding as you shove the ticket into your pocket. He says your name softly, but you only hold your hand up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll meet you there, I promise.” You turn towards the shadows of the hall. In the silence of the night, you hear the hushed whispers of the children you’ve dedicated your life to and your heart disintegrates in your chest. “I just… I need some time to figure everything out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Jean’s feet shift along the floor. You look over your shoulder for a moment to find his eyes on you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply. “Feel free to stay the night. It’s already late.” He nods, and you flash him the weakest smile.

Then, you walk down the hall to your children. You have a lot of explaining to do.

You stubbornly try to ignore the tears tracing down your face as you reach into the compartment on your pants containing the letters. Reaching for it, you pull it out and crack it open, wondering if it’s even possible to bring yourself to read it.

“It’s not your last question,” Reiner had noted warily as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I guess we have to put a rain check this time.” You had set the box down, looking at him. You couldn’t recall feeling so warm, so empty. So convinced that there was something wrong with how much you still felt for him. “One more question, then?”

A nod, almost hungry for it. “Please.”

“Did you really, really love me?”

The gentlest of sighs, his warm yellow eyes. He had reached out for you, then second guessed, and reached for his breast pocket instead, extending the tin to you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

The entire cabin is quiet as you stare at the ring nestled at the bottom, atop the stack of letters that are wrinkled and must’ve been refolded so many times it’s begun to permanently crease in multiple lines.

No one’s dared to speak since Sasha died and you look up at the others before back down at the ring again before pinching it between your fingers and lifting it to eye level. You’re not sure what it means to hold it, but you gently close the tin with your other hand, feeling it click shut, and slide it back into your pocket.

The band is silver, rather simple, but it’s pretty, too, in a refined sort of way. There aren’t any gems, but there are simple engravings, lines that curve the metal, causing ripples along the surface and, without thinking, you stretch out your left hand in front of you, trying to gauge which one it’ll fit the best.

Sombrely, you slide it down your ring finger, and let it sit there, lowering your hands and curling them into fists and raising your shoulder, hearing a bone crack.

You’re exhausted.

The ODM gear feels strange on your body. It’d been a crash course to get you familiarized with the updates, and you hook a thumb on the strap on your rib cage before glancing at the others. Connie sits with Mikasa and Armin, and Jean is at the back by himself, rubbing at his face hard enough that his skin is beginning to turn red.

You don’t know what to say.

What is there to say? Four years have left you strangely numb.

Jean’s lips pull back into a vicious snarl and his head snaps up to find you looking. Then, everything seems to soften, and he looks away sharply, almost as if to hide his tears.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead, you walk on to the back of the ship, past him, where the prisoners are being held, and you open the door without a noise, first noticing the blond boy. Falco. He looks up at your entrance, eyes wide, and you give him a slight smile as you close the door.

You wish you could hate children for the part they played in killing your friend, but in this moment, you just feel nothing. Not even sadness. You had seen what Marley’s done in the friends you’ve lost.

“Hello, Falco.”

“You lied to me,” he whispers. “You and Mister Kruger—Eren,” he corrects himself. “You used me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, looking at the walls. It seems like a supply area, and you grab the bucket and rag that’s been left by whoever checked in on them last. There’s a few clean rags and you walk up to them, crouching before the blond first. He seems to flinch back and the brown-haired girl lunges at you.

You have no problem pushing her aside and pinning her down.

“Don’t touch him!” she yells. “You don’t get to touch him!”

“Calm down,” you tell her calmly. “I’m not going to hurt him, and you are in no position to be making demands at me after you killed my friend.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a devil. So was she!” she spits as you slowly wet the rag and dab at the blood cracking underneath Falco’s nose. It’s clear whoever was here before only used the bucket and rag as a taunt. Probably telling them they could piss in here if they wanted. A coy coil of disgust wraps around your gut. “Don’t touch him. You’re tainted! You give all of us a bad name!”

Your nose wrinkles as the girl squirms under your hand and you let go of her. Cupping Falco’s face, you continue to wipe at his cheek. The water is cold. You hope it soothes what must be a flaring face.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs dully. Exhausted eyes find yours. “Why?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea why kids are suddenly soldiers in an adult’s war.” You reach to rinse the rag. Dipping it in water, you begin to wring it out when suddenly, there’s a sharp gasp, and you turn to look at the other child—Gabi. She stares at your hands, eyes wide enough a ring of white is around her irises and you frown. “What?”

“Where did you get that ring?” she asks, voice shaking, and you look down at your hands. “That’s… that’s Reiner’s ring. Where did you get it?” You don’t answer, simply stare at her for a moment, and her breath comes out quivering. “He doesn’t let anyone know he has it. It’s for someone special. That’s—he wouldn’t even tell me. He doesn’t know I saw him with it. He… he —it’s supposed to be for someone!”

“Gabi—“ Falco grabs her arms as you regard her softly, and you have just an idea of what’s going in her head as she points at you. “Gabi, calm down—“

“Why do you have it?” she demands ferociously. “It’s not yours! Give it back!” You drop the rag back into the water, and sit back, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your arms atop of them lazily as tears begin to trace down the child’s face. “It didn’t even cost that much! You won’t be able to sell it to, you know! Give it!”

“Gabi!”

“You have no idea what that means to him!“

“Stop—“

“You spawn! You devil woman!”

“Are you done?” you ask her quietly, fingers twisting the ring and Gabi inhales raggedly as you look at her flatly. Her eyes widen even more if possible, and she allows Falco to pull her back. Her wet gasps fill the silence and you swallow, tilting your head at your hands. “If you really want to know, I don’t really have an idea why I’m wearing it.” You sigh, dropping your hands and letting your head fall forward. “As for how I got it, if you ever see Reiner again, why don’t you ask him?”

Falco’s eyes widen as you look up and finding him staring at you with a strange scrutiny, and your eyebrows furrow as he lets go of Gabi and straightens up from where he’s sitting.

“Mister Braun didn’t even hear what I said when he saw you,” he murmurs, brow furrowing. “Like he’d just seen a ghost. You and…” He struggles for words, voice unsteady. “Eren said you guys were all old friends. But… but, if he gave you the ring—“

“Shut up, Falco!” Gabi beseeches, grabbing his arm, but Falco only stares at you. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying? You’re accusing my cousin of treason! He wouldn’t!”

“He stayed with you for so long,” he continues, as if in a trance. “Even Eren wondered what was taking so long. He… called it a lover’s quarrel. You…”

“I think you two should get some rest,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your feet and ignoring the smokey feeling clogging up your chest as tears slip down Gabi’s face and Falco’s face pales at your blatant dismissal. “It’s going to be a few hours until we land, roughly. You’ll want to get used to being somewhere warm before they transfer you to some sort of prison. It’ll be a lot colder there.”

Taking the bucket and the rag, you return it back to its spot before walking out the room and closing the door shut behind you.

You find the spot you once were standing at now occupied with Floch and his comrades, and then you turn your head to see Jean still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression burning the metal floor.

You amble over to him without a word and lean in beside him, sinking to the floor.

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