#and of course she would have to answer those

[prael]

Phonecalls

Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia

IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut

words: 3,757 Kinktember Masterlist

Happy Gaeul day!

Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’

A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her true self. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.

She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.

There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.

Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.

"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.

"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.

"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."

"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."

Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"

"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.

"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.

"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"

"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"

Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 

She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.

That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.

"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."

She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."

"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."

"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."

"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."

"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"

"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.

"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.

"You know where I get my fun."

"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.

The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.

"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.

"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.

"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.

"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."

"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.

"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.

"And what did he pick?"

"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.

"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."

"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.

"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."

"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.

"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."

"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.

"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.

There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."

"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.

"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."

"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.

"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."

You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."

"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."

"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.

"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."

"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"

"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."

"Let's hear it," you urged.

"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.

"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"

Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."

"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.

"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.

"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."

"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.

"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."

"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.

"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.

"I hope not."

"You wanna know what's funny?"

"Tell me," you plead to her.

"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."

You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.

"Not funny?" she asks.

"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."

"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.

"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."

"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"

"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"

"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.

"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"

"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.

"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."

"Then?" you prod her on.

"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."

"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.

"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.

You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.

"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."

You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"

"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.

"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.

Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.

"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...

"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.

It's an amazing fucking image.

"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."

You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.

"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."

"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."

"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."

You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."

"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.

You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.

"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."

"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.

"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.

"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

NOW PLAYING

LATE

Starring: Choso Kamo

Choso's a simple man with simple desires, & a morning meeting with Gojo & Yaga doesn't typically fit into those desires. . .not when he wakes up to you in his bed

Warnings! fem!reader, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, praise

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Choso’s biggest complaint about humans is that they’re all so complicated. He thinks he’s a simple guy, & he is. He eats the same thing for breakfast every morning, he tells Yuji the same thing before every mission (“Be safe, & be smart”), he gets ready in the exact same order everyday, & he loves his girlfriend. 

Truly, it’s that simple. He’s that simple. 

But when you tell him that you think you “wanna move in with you, Cho. Then we can be together everyday. When you come home from missions, or hanging out with Yuji, I’ll be there,” it throws him off. Not that he’s complaining, but it’s Thursday morning, he needs to leave in 10 minutes, & yet here he is, lying in bed with you still, tracing patterns on your shoulder, admiring your soft snores that you swear don’t exist, & he just can’t find it in himself to get up.

He never would’ve allowed anything to distract him from his job, from his purpose, so why can’t he get out of bed & start getting ready? Why can’t he seem to find the will to leave you? & furthermore, why on earth would he ever want to leave you? He doesn’t spend too much time pondering it; all these complicated questions leave his head spinning. He’s accepted the fact that he isn’t here to be a genius, he isn’t half-human to be the smartest guy around. As long as he’s fighting curses, protecting those he cares about, & loving his girlfriend the way she deserves, nothing else really matters, right? 

You’re just so vulnerable like this. Some deep, dark instinct in his brain is telling him to stay with his woman, protect her, make her happy. Of course, he doesn’t need caveman intellect to encourage these thoughts, Choso will do anything to make you happy. Even be late to a meeting with Gojo & Yaga. 

“Morning, pretty,” he murmurs against the nap of your neck, trying to be subtle in the way he grinds his crotch against your ass. But you'd sang this song & danced this dance more mornings than you could count. 

“Cho, you have to go to work.” Of course, you would decide to be reasonable right now, right when he needed you, needed to feel you, needed to taste you. He wasn’t trying to be a tease or a flirt, but you second guessed that when he trailed delicate kisses, with both his lips & his eyelashes from the bottom of your jaw to the base of your neck, to the valley between your breasts, to your navel, down your stomach until he reached the silk line of your panties. He looked up at you, begging for permission, & the answer you gave him was hooking your fingers under your panties & pulling them down to your ankles. He wastes no time in burying his face into your pretty pussy: kittenlicking your folds, pressing chaste kisses all over your upper thighs, finally providing you the stimulation your body is begging for by shoving his nose into your syrupy, sweet cunt. 

You’re losing coherency, trying & failing to get through to him in any way that “yo-you’re gonna be late, Cho,” & it’s barely a whisper, some form of a whine, & damn it, he’s thinking to himself, he must not be doing a good enough job of sucking on your swollen cunt if you’re still forming sentences. 

“Don’t care.” He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too entranced by the taste of you, the smell of your perfume mixed with your arousal. 

Choso was not the type of person to call out of work, but it was after your third date, when you’d taken him home, let him finger you & sat on his dick, that he was texting Yaga at 3:00am that morning after round four that he wasn’t going to make it in. You’d scolded him for that rash decision in the ten minutes it took his cock to get hard again, & lost all sense of rationality after that.

He was gonna get you there, he thought; sex-brained & dumb, ‘cause that’s how he liked you best. Of course, he loves his sharp-as-a-tack girlfriend, but he loves you even more when you’re like him: zeroed in on one thing. His one thing was almost always you. He knew you would never cheat on him, but the thought of you even thinking about another man—platonically, even—made him sick. 

You're clawing at his hair, still trying to talk sense to him, but the words are lodged in your throat, replaced with moans of his name, begging; as if you'd ever have to beg, when Choso's stream of conciousness consists of two words: "please her, please her, please her, please her—"

So he’s confident, when he slides two fingers into your weeping cunt, that he’ll have his way with you this morning, send an apology to the higher-ups, & make sure his girlfriend knows how much he loves her before he leaves. 

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is it obvious that i'm in love with him. . .orrrr. . . ???????

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[wiltedflowerpetals]

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John Price is a lot of things. A soldier. A leader. The captain of Task Force 141. And, of course, (Y/N) Price's husband. They are so much in love, in fact, that after a year of dating, John asked her to marry him. But even lovers have secrets... Because John's lovely wife wasn't just a sweet wife with a boring office job. No. She was a killer. A hitman. One of the best...

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It's my first cod fic... I hope it's good. Thank you for reading and I wish you all a great day! x3

Words: 2259

Warning: fluff, a bit angsty

You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow as you entered the quiet sanctuary of your home. You placed your weapons carefully in your hidden compartment beneath the floorboards of the closet, where John would never think to look. It was almost laughable, really. Your husband, John Price, a man who had dedicated his life to fighting criminals, had no idea that his wife was one of those killers.

You closed the closet door and took a deep breath. This was your life, your choice, long before you even met John. He didn't need to know about your job. All he needed to know was that you were here, waiting for him, just like you always were. You took another deep breath and needed to switch gears, to become the version of yourself that he knew and loved.

After you took a shower and put on some comfy clothes, you decided to cook your husband’s favorite food. You moved around the kitchen, preparing it as the aroma of simmering stew filled the air.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from Kate Laswell. A good friend of yours.

You smiled before swiping the screen to answer the call.

“(Y/N).” Kate greeted you. She sounded professional, as always, but with a bit of warmth.

“Kate.” You replied. “How did it go?”

“Smoothly. The target is dead, and our friend is safe for now. You did a good job out there.”

“Thanks.” You said, leaning against the counter, watching the stew. “What’s next?”

“Next?” You heard her chuckle. “Next, I’m coming over.”

You raised your eyebrow, stirring the pot. “You're sure about this, Kate?”

“What, afraid to see me in broad daylight?” You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, John invited me. He’s been telling me for ages about how good your cooking is. How could I refuse?”

You sighed. “I’m a great cook… But, Kate, you know how important it is that John doesn’t find out about… you know.”

“I know.” Kate reassured you. “I won’t say a word. He has no idea we know each other, and it’ll stay that way.” Silence filled the conversation. “But he’s bound to find out. You have to talk to him one day.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I know and I will do it… One day. It’s just… I don’t want him getting involved in my shit. If he knew what I really do…”

“I understand…” Kate said softly. “And I promise, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You sighed and rolled your eyes as the line went dead before you could say more. You placed the phone back on the counter.

“You could have said bye, Kate.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your husband; it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of him being in danger. You’d lied to him for years, all to protect him. And so far, it had worked.

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The front door opened. John was home. You turned, wiping your hands on a towel as he entered the kitchen, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey, love.” He greeted, his voice gruff but full of affection.

“John.” You smiled, walking over to him. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. The scent of sweat, gunpowder, cigars and earth clung to him, a reminder of the world he lived in, the world you knew perfectly well…

“Missed you.” He murmured against your neck.

“I missed you too.” You replied, your voice soft. You kind of did. Can you miss someone that you see so often? Even when your husband went on missions, you were there, watching his back and saving his life more times than you could count.

You always went there to safe him. For Kate and for yourself.

You pulled back, giving him a soft kiss on his dry lips. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

John watched you with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“Someone has to.” You teased, setting the plates on the table. “Sit down. I’ll get everything.”

He obeyed. You placed a steaming plate in front of him and joined him at the table. You two ate in comfortable silence.

John leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a satisfied grin. "You’ve outdone yourself, love."

“I’m glad you liked it.” You replied, gathering the dishes. He grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Leave it.” He said. “I’ll do it later.”

You smiled, but shook your head. “Let me help then.” John offered, but you shook your head again.

“No, you go take a shower. I’ve got this.”

He didn’t need much convincing. “Alright, but only because you insist.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, before you watched him head towards the bathroom.

The next day arrived too quickly…

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You woke up early and ready to prepare breakfast. John was still asleep, his arm draped over your side of the bed, the peaceful expression on his face making your heart ache with affection.

You moved quietly, not wanting to wake him just yet. He needed his rest, especially after the mission he’d just returned from. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, savoring the moment.

As you finished up, John stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, love.” He mumbled, reaching for you. You stepped into his embrace, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Morning.” You replied, your voice soft. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Smells amazing.” he said, pulling back to look at you.

You two sat on the table, eating your delicious food as John intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Soo…” John started, as you finished your food.

“Soo?” You glanced at him, squeezing his hand.

“A friend of mine wanted to visit us. You, know the friend I’ve mentioned a couple of times? Kate?” You nod your head, feeling a slight twinge of anxiety in your stomach. “Yeah, she will come… Is it okay? Or should I call her back and-“

You shook your head. “No, no, honey. It’s okay. She can come.” Despite her promise, there was still a small part of your that worried, that he will find out about your job.

John smiled at your, happy that you were fine with it and finally could meet his friend.

And due to your nervosity, you start to cook early on for dinner. For the time Kate will come into your home. You prayed and hoped that everything will work out…

John noticed your nervosity, of course. He always did. “You’re fussing too much.” He teased as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you.

“I’m not fussing.” You rolled your eyes, but could hear the tension in your own voice. “I just want everything to be perfect…”

“It will be.” John assured you, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind. “Kate’s going to love you. She’s always been curious about the woman who managed to snag me.”

You laughed, though the sound was a bit strained. John kissed the side of your neck, his beard scratching gently against your skin. “Don’t worry, love.”

The doorbell rang and you felt your heart leap into your throat. This was it…

John released you, heading for the door. “That’ll be Kate.” He said.

You quickly wiped your hands on a towel, trying to steady your breathing as you followed him. When the door swung open, there stood Kate Laswell, dressed casually but with her usual air of quiet authority.

“Kate, good to see you.” John greeted warmly.

“Good to see you too, John.” Kate replied with a smile, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You stepped forward, a perfectly practiced look of curiosity and friendliness on her face. It was time to act. Something that you always had to do during your missions. Acting or more likely… lying…

“You must be Kate. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you must be (Y/N).” Kate responded. “John wasn’t exaggerating when he said you’re beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes at the false pleasantries, but at least your friend had some fun. This was the game you two had to play after all. “Thank you. Come in, please.”

As Kate stepped inside, John closed the door behind her, looking pleased. He had no idea that the two women had known each other for a long time already.

They moved to the dining room, where you had already set the table. The conversation flowed easily, John and Kate reminiscing about old missions, with you chiming in here and there, careful to keep up the facade of being just a supportive wife with no real connection to their deadly world.

As they ate, John kept looking between the two women. “It’s funny.” He remarked. “I’ve always thought you two would get along great. Glad to see I was right.”

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Well, Kate’s easy to get along with.” You said, but kept your eyes rather on John than on her.

Kate returned the smile, her expression giving nothing away. “And I can see why John speaks so highly of you, (Y/N). You’ve got a real knack for this - hosting, cooking… you’re a natural.”

“… Thank you.” You replied, you were counting down the minutes until this tense dinner was over.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk and laughter, with John completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the two women. As far as he knew, it was just a pleasant evening with his wife and a close friend.

When it was finally time for Kate to leave, John walked her to the door, thanking her again for coming. You followed, staying a step behind, happy that the day has finally ended.

“Thanks for having me.” Kate said warmly, giving you a meaningful look as she shook your hand. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“I would love to.” You replied, your voice steady despite of all the emotions you were feeling right now. “It was lovely meeting you.”

With that, Kate left, and you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed as you let out a slow breath.

John came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You leaned into his embrace. “You were right.” You admitted, turning in his arms to face him. “It was nice and went better than I thought.”

John smiled down at you. “You did great, love. I knew Kate would like you. But then again, what's not to like?”

You chuckled. “You give me too much credit. But I’m glad she came over. It was… good to finally meet her.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “You know, I think she’ll become a good friend of yours. She’s got a lot of interesting stories, and I’m sure you two have more in common than you think.”

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah… maybe.”

John’s smile softened as he looked at you. “Are you alright? You seem… distracted.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. He was always so perceptive. But you couldn’t tell him the truth… Not now, not ever. So, you did what you had done countless times before. You lied… Again.

“Just tired.” You said, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “It’s been a long day.”

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back. “I understand. It’s been a lot. Why don’t we call it a night? You need your rest.”

You nodded, feeling now tired from this day. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You locked up the house and headed upstairs. As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t help but glance at John, wondering what would happen if he ever found out the truth. How would he react? Would he be angry, hurt, betrayed?

Once you two were in bed, John pulled you close, his arm wrapped protectively over you. He kissed your temple, whispering a soft “Goodnight, love.” before closing his eyes.

You lay there in the darkness, your eyes wide open as you stared at the ceiling. The evening had gone as well as it could have, but the anxiety was still there. Kate’s visit had been a stark reminder of your real life. Your real job.

You turned slightly to watch John sleep; his face peaceful in the light. He had no idea how many times you’d been there, watching over him from the shadows during his missions, making sure he and his team got out alive. You were always just out of sight, never letting anyone know where you were. It was your way of protecting him.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up.

But for now, John was safe. He was home, with you, and that was all that mattered.

You reached out, brushing a hand over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble under your fingers. He stirred slightly, but didn’t wake, just leaned into her touch.

“I love you.” You whispered.

It was both a vow and a plea. A promise to keep him safe, and a silent wish that he’d never have to find out the lengths you’d gone to do so.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the arms of your husband.

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[drefear]

Written in Blood

Summary: you're just a girl from the village, a place that worships an infamous vampire for his immortality, and one night a year, he hosts a big party in his castle. You finally got an invite, and unlike everyone else, you're less than excited.

TW: blood, drinking, unwanted advances, sex, p in v, loss of virginity, blood drinking.

Glasses of champagne clinked as you straightened your shoulders, nervous and gulping heavily. The music would have lulled you and made you relax in any other scenario, but you were in the vampire castle tonight and the idea of not knowing who could try to drink your blood was making you anxious. Ballgowns swished and swayed, but you stayed glued to the wall, a flower unmoving among a field of breezy flora. All the girls in the village were so excited to be invited, the one night a year that the Lord of the Vampires invited any humans into his mansion, and you were finally of age to be invited. Everyone in the village that was of age received an invitation personally signed with his name and theirs, and when you went to the market for your family a month ago, you saw all of the girls fawning over the extravagant letter with their names in calligraphy and signed in heavy, black ink. You only felt your stomach become filled with rocks, seeing your name in his handwriting and thinking that your blood would be next. 

You snapped back into the present when you watched the townspeople dance and laugh, eating their fill and making conversation like you all weren’t inside of the abode of the monster who murdered tens of your every year. The pins in your hair made your skull ache, but your mother was determined to make you look like a porcelain doll. She sent you in a large dress that was almost as puffy as a pastry, but you insisted on black. You wouldn’t wear one of those frilly pink or blue gowns that you saw in the windows of boutiques, you wanted something that matched the dreadful feeling in your chest. You wanted everyone to know how you felt. 

Vampires and humans mingled, but you stayed to yourself and refused to dance with everyone who asked so far. Glancing upwards towards the massive crystal chandelier in the center of the room, surrounded by smaller ones, you noticed a balcony where someone stood in all black as well, watching the party from above. Your arms folded over your chest and you thought how no one else here was dressed in all black as well, not a single person except you and this stranger. His eyes caught yours and your gasp fell in your throat, choking out as a cough. 

His bright red eyes stared into yours, you could see it all the way from the corner of the ballroom where you stood, and you instinctively took a step backwards. You blinked a few times and he was gone from where he stood, now making you look around frantically and gasp once more. 

Your name made you jump until you recognized a boy you grew up with in your school. His hand was outstretched to yours and his smile was bright as he wore an all blue suit with navy embellishments. You chewed the inside of your cheek and pinched at the meat of your hand as you calmly shook your head and curtsied, but he stepped closer. 

“I’ve seen you standing here all night, come have one try around the dancefloor with me and then you can retreat back into your shell.” He encouraged, but those red eyes were stuck to the back of your eyelids and you shook your head once more. He wasn’t leaving and you furrowed your brow in frustration. Truth be told, you just wanted to leave and now you were being haunted by both that terrifying gaze and this insolent boy you knew. “It’d be a shame if that dress went to waste, you should show it off. I know how much your mother worked on it, she was in the tailor buying fabric every week for the last month.” He joked and you politely smiled. “And we should get acquainted, since your father and mine have discussed an arrangement of marriage.” He answered and you fell silent, shock coursing through your veins. “You didn’t know? Well, we both have competing businesses and it seems that our parents think combining our businesses would be beneficial.” His answer made you feel hollow until the band stopped and a gasp fell over the crowd. 

Turning your head, you saw the man dressed in all black standing at the center of the french doors that led to the ballroom, at the top of a staircase. He looked like royalty, which is also how he was treated among your town and surrounding towns that worshiped him for his immortality. No matter how many he killed with his bloodthirst, everyone still prayed to be like him, but not you. You just wanted to live in peace and support yourself, alone and secluded, but now you were either about to be tethered to this dog of a human or die from being sucked dry by a vampire. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, all of those here.” He said in a booming voice, his words tinged with an accent of some sort that you didn't recognize. “Welcome to my home. Eat, drink, dance, have a good time, and don’t forget to indulge in your wildest, darkest fantasies. Being here is rare, and you should live like you may die tomorrow.” His words left you feeling eerie and squeamish, while everyone else cheered for his ideas. You just stared at the ground before you looked up and saw him staring at you once more. With widened eyes, you couldn’t look away. 

“I’d like to have my first dance in over a hundred years.” He spoke and began descending down the stairs as you back up, his eyes never leaving yours and as he moved inward on the crowd of people and vampires, everyone looked around to see who he was looking at. All eyes finally fell on you and you moved backward once more, bumping into a table of food and staying frozen there as he came closer. “It’s not every year that two people are dressed to match without ever meeting, don’t you think?” He said as he moved to stand in front of you, only a foot of space separating you both now. His hand reached out to ask for a dance and you felt like you may pass out from holding your breath, but he just smiled. “You can refuse if you’d like to not dance. But I’d love to make you feel a bit more welcome in my home, and a dance may be nice.” You looked between his face and his hand before realizing that he could take the soul out of your body with one bite, and you agreed. Stepping forward, you curtsied and he bowed before the musicians resumed playing their delicate music and you both moved around the center of an empty dance floor. You looked out to everyone as you danced in tandem, your bodies moving in sync to the orchestra. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He whispered into your ear, making your body tense for a moment and stepping on his foot, which then made him smile. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re so nervous about.” 

He interrupted the conversation as he took you into his arms and hauled you higher than him into the air, a nice trick to the viewers that made everyone watching clap and cheer. His smile was dazzling and you tried not to get too distracted by his entertaining ways. 

“And the other vampires here?” You whispered and he looked around at the other cold faces, empty and hollow in the cheeks as he smirked. “Well, I can’t control others, but I’m sure that after I killed a vampire a few decades ago for drinking from another without their consent, that they’d hesitate before doing it once more in my presence.” He concluded and you were thoughtful now, reviewing each of his words like you were studying the sentence. 

“You only feed on people who agree…?” 

“Yes, of course.” He answered and he spun you into a twirl, dipping you before his face was suddenly mere inches from yours. The song ended and he smiled as he pulled you upwards once more. As you both stared at each other, the crowd became wild with enthusiasm and hollered in your beautiful dance. You looked down from the overwhelming feeling of a million eyes on you and he looked around before speaking again. “Will you let me take you somewhere private where you can take a break?” 

Without a second thought, you agreed and he pulled your hand to drag you through the crowd. 

You both exited those french doors as many people filled the dance floor once more and you looked at them before rushing forward to get away from all of the excitement. He led you to another staircase and to the doors on the left of it at the top. Once you were both inside, you recognized the rich red fabrics and four-poster bed as his master bedroom. 

His bedroom!!!

Your mind began to panic. Alone, with a vampire in his bedroom. A million and one things could happen and none of them ended with your life in your hands anymore. 

“Your blood is running quite high, but I hope you know that I won’t touch you.” He spoke in a deep voice once more, and you turned to see him. 

His face was angular, jaw sharp and cheeks carved to be perfectly symmetrical as you followed his broad nose to his piercing red eyes, a trait no other vampire had. He was so big compared to any other person, standing a foot taller than you and back wide enough to shield you from the entirety of the outside world. If he wanted you, whether it be your blood or your virtue, there was nothing you could do to stop him. The realization made your throat tight and your body shiver in fear, but his words echoed once more and you tried to relax. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of champagne.” You nodded and sat on the soft, velvet chaise near his bed. He handed you the crystal glass and sat across from you, with a wine glass filled with a thick, red liquid you all but gagged at. He smirked at your reaction and took a sip. 

He was nice to look at, but he was also the most deadly creature in all the world and you refused to let that slip your memory no matter how many gentle caresses you felt in that dance or how nice of a smile he gleamed. He was a monster. 

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” 

“No.” You answered honestly, and stared at the champagne in your hands. 

“Why are you here then?” 

“Because I thought you may take offense to me refusing your invitation and come to kill me.” He roared in laughter at your idea and his shoulder shook with hilarity, but you frowned deeper. 

“That town has surely cooked up many stories of my ways, hmm?” He looked back towards you and sighed, swishing around the glass. “I haven’t killed anyone unwillingly in three hundred years, and I’ve only lived for three hundred and fifty.”He clarified, “Does that make you feel better?” 

You nodded, before sipping your champagne once more and leaning back against the chaise. 

“Why black?” He asked and you could see his eyes narrow. 

You were silent for a moment, wording how you might answer before speaking to him. “I don’t like colors, especially bright ones. I like things that are easy to look at, and bright colors make me want to squint. Black is… soothing, like a rainy day or the night sky.” You answered him with truth and sincerity, and he nodded. 

“You aren’t like those eager ones down there, in their ruffle pink dresses that look like fairytales, you live in the real world, with all of its disappointments and hardship.” He watched you as he spoke and you did the same, staring back with a curt, single nod. He sipped his glass again and you felt your dinner lurch in your stomach before you pushed it back. “It’s cow blood.” He announced and you stopped for a second. 

“It… is?”

“Yes. Human blood can be… dirty. I prefer to make sure the person is not unclean, morally and healthwise. Usually, when someone offers to be my meal, they come and stay with me for a month. I feed them lavishly all healthy, delicious foods, help them be properly rested and live a balanced life before even tasting their blood, and often it’s still not enough. Then, when I am done feeding, I simply have another vampire turn them immortal and they leave.” He shrugged and you were so lost. 

“Where did those horror stories about you come from?” You asked and he became still, thinning deeply as upset etched into his face. “You don’t need to tell me-” 

“When I was first turned into a vampire, I was the first of my kind. My strength and abilities matched nothing of this world… So, I became hungry… for vengeance and power. I tore through many cities, entire countries, like a man from Hell, but many times I cried about the lives I cost the world. I then found a way to turn others immortal, like myself, and the first time I watched them go through the same insane blood thirst I did, but I trained them to control it and only drink to live. Food is still delicious, sleep is less but still nice, and life would be the same for everyone, even if they needed slightly different necessities. No human would be harmed for their mere pleasure, or I would find them and kill them myself.” The way he seemed, so serious about it, made you shiver with the vision in your mind of him ripping a head off of a body. 

“Is that how you kill a vampire? Removing their head?” 

“Isn’t that how you’d kill anything?” He smirked and you blushed at your own blunder, thinking maybe you’d drank too much champagne and putting the glass down on the ornate little table in between you both. His smile made you stare for a moment before you looked around at the room. “Am I too brazen to say that I want your eyes back on mine?” He asked and you snapped your gaze back to his, startled by his forwardness. 

“I am just a bit surprised.” 

“I’ve learned in my… few hundred years, that being direct is the best way to achieve a goal and get what you desire.” He answered and you paused, processing his words before taking his advice and being direct as well. 

“And you desire my gaze?” You asked and he seemed to become more intense in his stare. 

“Mi amor, I’ve been craving your gaze since you stepped into my home.” He admitted and you held back your gasp as you bit your lip to hold back any embarrassing reaction you may have had. “I knew you’d be my weakness the second I saw you, a black dahlia in a sea of sunflowers and roses.” His metaphor made your heart race and you watched as he stood up and circled your chaise, like a shark around a boat. “You are breathtaking, and yet blind to every admirer's attention, so I had to make myself known… and try my best to make you mine, at least for a night.” His words set fire to your skin and made your mind hazy from the smoke, your mouth suddenly dry. He stood in front of you and kneeled down before reaching for your hand, which you gave to him and he leaned closer. He smelled of spices and rust, and you were entranced. 

“I never thought I’d see the Lord of all Vampires kneeling for me.” You whispered as his face moved closer and closer until his breath fanned across your cheeks and warmed your lips. 

“You are the only creature I’ve seen that deserved my worship.” His words felt like a secret that you guarded with your heart, something you wished you could scream from the top of his towers and brandish on your body for everyone to read. “May I?” He asked and you answered by closing the distance. His lips were plush and p[lump, like cold water against the warm sand, and they stole your breath with how experienced they seemed to be. As the seconds went by, you moved in a rhythm, ignorant to anything around either of you and he moved to bend over you and cup your face, now above you on the chaise and licking delicately at your lips, which made you quiver in new ways. 

As the heat between you two rose, so did the escalation of your embrace. His arms quickly wrapped around you and he moved to lay next to you as he pulled at the ties of the corset on your dress, the sleeve slipping as he frustratedly pulled the strings, before finally ripping the corset in half and leaving your topless. You pulled away, shocked, and covered your breasts before he drank you in for a moment. His brash action made you both nervous of his incredible strength, and excited that those same hands wanted to pleasure you. It was like you were a flimsy doll in his care, and he wanted to cherise you despite how fragile you were and how easily he could tear you limb from limb. He dragged a finger over the hands covering yourself before he gently pulled them away, which you willingly obliged, and he instantly pressed his forehead to your skin, breathing in your scent before wrapping his pink lips around your nipple and sucking experimentally. You jerked in response and gasped, shaking a little from the pleasure. 

His eyes watched you as you moaned and you felt something sharp nibble into your skin before you saw his fangs poking through a bit. This made everything even more enjoyable, the bits of danger he exuded. As you moved to sit in his lap, he kept licking andsucking at your chest until dark bruises littered your skin in a cacophony of maps. As you let him continue his claim over your bodice, his hand tugged at the uncomfortable material that made up your skirt and you pushed his chest away as he looked at you with confusion. You stood before the chair and carefully removed the skirt of your gown, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin. As he watched you shimmy it off, his red gaze stared at the blossom of your hips from your waist and his entire being seemed like a man starved. You made no movement for a moment until his eyes found yours once more and you felt the pull of his stare. 

His hands gripped your waist as you moved back to him and he lifted you on top of him like you weighed nothing, before pulling his own clothing off in a sequence of rushed motions. As cloth and expensive fabric littered the floor, you both sat with nothing on for a second before smashing your lips into each other. The depth of his kiss was sharp and dizzying as you tried to grip reality, but his body could swallow you whole and your shadow with it. 

He pulled you into his arms and stood to carrying you over to his bed and as you fell gently into the soft, rich feeling of his blankets, the glow of candles lit up the muscles lining his body, He was like a statute, sculpted and formed with definition between ever different curvature in his skin. From his neck, to his shoulders, to his chest and abdomen, it was all as if kissed by Aphriodite herself and blessed to be man’s greatest temptation. 

Or in this case, your greatest temptation. How damned your soul would be if you gave your virtue to a man sworn to go to Hell, who has feasted on the flesh and blood of mankind, and oh, how much you didn’t care. 

As your eyes trailed around his body, he chuckled and grasped your ankles, before tugging you closer. “Are you sure about this? You look as if you’re a kitten in a Lion’s Den.” He spoke playfully and you returned the favor by covering yourself slightly and shrugging a shoulder. 

“If I did, I think you may be disappointed, as you seem quite…” your eyes trailed down between his legs and he followed your gaze, then looking back at you as you smiled, “enthused.” 

“I’m more than enthused. I haven’t even felt you inside yet, and I’m ready to give my soul to ravish you for eternity.” He concluded before he mounted the bed and hovered over you. “But I will ask again… Are you sure? Vampires can tend to become thirsty while in the throes of passion.” 

“Are you saying that you might bite me?” You asked as you placed your hands on his shoulders, massaging the muscle there, which made you even more excited. 

“Yes.” 

“Will it kill me?” 

“No, of course not.” He shook his head, as if laughing at a joke, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you were to die because of me.” he spoke softly and you nodded. 

“Then do as you please with me, as long as you do not stop once you start.” You answered and he let out a tense breath of relief as he grabbed your hips harshly and pulled your bodies closer. As he pulled your chest to his, you felt him begin to enter you and the stretch of him inside you made you gasp. The feeling burned a bit and as he moved, you tried to catch your breath. He stilled a bit and scanned your face with concern as you bit your lip, but he stopped completely when he realized you were in pain. 

“Are you alright?” He asked gently and pecked your forehead as you nodded. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” You asked and he smiled before kissing a line down your neck. 

“Haven’t you ever…” He trailed off before you both stared into each other’s eyes, a quiet understanding settling as he learned a bit more. “You haven’t.” 

“No, I haven't.” You whispered and he looked down at your hand before bringing your wrist to his lips and kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m honored to be the first.” He spoke softly and stared deeply into your eyes, “Tell me when to move, alright?” 

“I’m ok, you- you can move.” You nervously agreed and he began to move deeper inside of you, finding the spot that made you shake in pleasure and pressing into them more. You gasped, shocked by how great the feeling was and he smirked at the sudden surprise you wore on your face. 

“Careful. I may want to be the first and last.” His seductive tone made you shiver, the feeling of his muscles around you exhilarating, enclosing you to the bed. His face was so close to yours, and the way he slowly moved against you, on you, with you, made the world feel so small. His groans brought you closer, and the rhythm of his thrusts made you feel yourself about to tumble off of the brink of ecstasy. Your mind spun as everything in your body tensed, shaking and letting out a loud scream as you writhed under him. As you yelled, he quickly sank his fangs into your throat, and the sting of the punctures made you roll her eyes. You hissed through your teeth as he drank, the piercing pain in your veins making your toes curl happily while he drank you in, literally. 

You both groaned and shifted as he closed his eyes and thrusted into you harshly, pulling his fangs from your throat and pushing into you one last time before he clenched his teeth and finished deep inside of you. 

The heaviness of your panting makes Miguel smile as he barely looks as if he’s moved at all. 

“Did you like that?” He kisses your cheek, warm lips pressing into your slick skin and making your eyes close comfortably. 

“Yes… did you?” 

“Of course, I can’t imagine any man who wouldn’t enjoy being with you. I’d like to keep going… everyday.” His voice became gentle and calm as he then said your name. You nodded and held the back of his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. The world blurred a bit as you began to drift into a sound sleep. 

As you woke up, the sun blazed into the room, creating dark shadows against the brightness of the daylight. Miguel walked into the room and breezed past the widows with no fear of the sunlight at all, puzzling you. 

“I thought vampires couldn’t be in the sun.” 

“Vampires don’t like the sun, but that’s because our eyesight is much better than humans. We're perfectly fine in the sun, and we prefer to be in the dark because too much light causes headaches for everyone, vampire or human.” He answered and smiled once more, reminding you about your epic adventure last night with the Lord of the Vampires. 

“Come back to bed…” You begged and he complied, holding your hand as he climbed onto the rich fabrics and laid his head on your stomach. 

“I’d like you to live here with me, and be mine…” 

“Be yours?” 

“Yes. Mate with me, become my partner.” He explained and you were silent. “Not ready to commit?”

“Not sure if I’m enough. I’m just another person from the village.” You slumped your shoulders slightly as you thought more about how wrong he was. He was a historic creature, deadly and legendary, and you were just another townsperson. 

“Mi vida, you are the one I’ve been waiting for, for three hundred and fifty years.” His whispers made you relax your body and snuggle more into his body as he moved to meet your eyes, laying side by side now. “You don’t realize how special you really are, and one day, you will.” His red gaze made you sink into his embrace, his words hugging you like a tight blanket as the sun kissed his tan face and made your heart flutter. His hand brushed the hair from your cheeks and the tickle of his skin against you made everything feel calm and ok… 

After years of feeling out of place, you finally felt at peace in his arms and everything suddenly made sense.

[babeejeon]

Jungkook drabble 3

Author note: This just came to my mind all of a sudden. I am sick and it late at night, I am supposed to sleep. But I can't sleep and I don't want inspiration to fade away. So here it's. Based on my life and imagination. Definitely would feel better if Jungkook was here to cuddle me. But at least here, there is a little fluff...

---

Jungkook entered home, but it was oddly silent. Usually she would be home at this hour but there were no traces of life in the house. He went to the bedroom to change his clothes only to find her laying in the bed, looking kind of sick. She didn't even notice him entering the room, she was staring to the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" he asked and finally catched her attention.

"Oh, you are already home?"

"It's 8 p.m. Y/N."

"Oh!" she seemed unaware.

"What happened? Are you sick?" he sit next to her in the bed and checked her fever with his hand.

"Yeah, I felt a little sick." she answered.

"Why didn't you told me? I would come home earlier."

"It's not that serious. I just felt sick at work and they brought me to the hospital. After the serum I was better but they insisted to drive me home."

"You got hospitalized and didn't tell me?" He asked in shock.

"I didn't get hospitalized, my coworkers just dragged me there." she argued.

"And they didn't even bother to inform me?" he seemed to be getting angry.

"I asked them not to, I didn't want you to worry." she explained.

"Of course I would worry, you are my wife Y/N!". Yes, he was definitely angry.

"But you would worry unnecessarily. It wasn't that bad and I felt way better after the serum."

"Did you take a look on the mirror? You look lifeless and about to break. I should be deciding if I worry necessarily or not."

"But baby~" she dragged "baby~" extra long. "I was really okay." She gave him puppy eyes.

"Don't try to use 'baby' to me! This is serious. Next time you are going to tell me, no matter what, even if you broke your nail or feel indigested after lunch. Everything, whether it is small or not." he said seriously.

"Okay." she complied. "At least give me a hug." She made grabby hands like a baby.

He smiled, "Let me change and I will cuddle you."

"Cuddles?" she asked eagerly.

"Yeah."

"Great."

After changing his clothes he sit the bed and put his back on the bedboard. Opened his arms for her to come into his arms.

"As expected..." she sighed happily.

"As expected what?" He asked curiously.

"As expected, I feel so safe in your arms. Like everything is going to be okay, there is nothing to be worried about. Illogically I feel so safe and sound, and happy." she paused and look up from his chest to see his face. "I wonder if it goes like Jeon Jungkook effect or effect of love in the literature."

He laughed at her words. "Of course it is the effect of love. I feel the same when you are in my arms."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I don't think I am the type of person to give reassurance or hope or something. I radiate stress and worry."

"Yeah, you don't give those vibes. But I know if I have you, everything is going to be okay. We would figure everything out. As long as I feel you and your love, I know we will be okay."

"Hımm, I still think it's Jeon Jungkook effect. It couldn't be just love." she said.

"Or maybe you are just madly in love with me." He winked at her.

She smiled shyly. "Yeah, maybe I am. It is weird though. I almost blushed."

"You really did blush." he teased her, only for her to hide her face to his chest. He laughed, 'it must be the Y/N effect' he thought to himself. Cause his heart was melting.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence she asked. "Love is still an interesting concept, isnt it?"

"Why?"

"You know, all my life I thought that love can't complete your life or has nothing to do with your happiness. Cause if you are sad alone, love can't make you happy all of a sudden or it is not going to solve all your problems magically. But when I met you I finally felt complete, I felt happy, I felt satisfied with my life and hopeful from the future."

"It's because we had what the other needed, so we completed each other's lives. No more searching for the mysterious things that we hope that will complete us." he said.

"Maybe we were just searching for each other. Not knowing but yearning for each other." she suggested.

[the-way-astray]

What's your favorite cannon thing you truly like about Keefe Sencen

I DARE you 😈

i've been dared . . .

definitely my favorite thing is the fact that in flashback/legacy he was 100% not only supportive of sophie and fitz's relationship despite having a crush on sophie, but also actively tries to keep sophie from doing something that could even be interpreted as implicative. there was a poll a while ago about whether people thought sophie and keefe were (even unintentionally) emotionally cheating on fitz, and i answered a hard no. and the main reason for that was because of keefe. he does so much to try to keep sophitz together during that time, including telling sophie to confide in fitz, telling her to tell him about the matchmaking thing, shutting ro down (or at least doing his best to), and generally speaking, he did not have to do all that. like, yeah, any decent person would be supportive and not actively try to break their two friends in a relationship up, but keefe goes way beyond that and actively tells sophie exactly what to do in order to keep her relationship with fitz intact. every time fitz "catches" him with sophie it's lowkey painful to think about what keefe must be feeling because he spends so much time trying to prevent that exact thing from happening. there's even a line in legacy where sophie admits this herself. one of the only times he uses his empathy not dubiously is at the end of legacy, where sophie "tells" him (i use the term loosely) that she and fitz broke up. and he immediately says "i'm sorry", expressing out loud his sympathy for their relationship's end.

(one thing i've heard people misinterpret a lot in anti keefe things is the "blond hottie" line, which they say is an inappropriate thing to say about someone in a relationship. that was not said by keefe. that was said by ro. she says that when she's trying to convince sophie that bronte can't be her bio dad, to which keefe then says "unless she gets that from her mom". that's all he says. sophie then wonders whether that meant he agreed with the blond hottie assessment, but that doesn't come from anything he actually says.)

it surprises me that i haven't seen keefe lovers talk more about the fact that fitz literally commissioned him to draw him and sophie in a very romantic pose in a very romantic spot and keefe did it. so i'm going to talk about it. once again, this is not just baseline "my crush is in a relationship, oh well, guess i won't interfere" stuff. this is going above and beyond to keep sophie and fitz together. again, keefe has a crush on sophie. i'm not an artist, but obviously art doesn't just pop up out of thin air. he spent some time making that drawing. and all that time is yet another reminder that his crush is in a relationship. he could've told fitz no, made up some excuse as to why he couldn't do it, and that would've been well within his right. but he didn't. so that's a thing worth mentioning. (i'm going to just say i don't like the argument that fitz knew what he was doing when he asked keefe for the drawing, though. i think fitz just thought "sophie likes keefe's drawings! let me get her one of those" which is sweet in and of itself.)

in unlocked, keefe thinks something like "he definitely should not be happy that two people close to him were going through a rough patch. but, if he was being honest, he wasn't really sad" or something to that effect. and i like that. he has a crush on sophie, so of course part of him will be happy she's now single again. it's realistic. i've definitely talked about this before, but jealousy isn't a character flaw to me. it's only the actions that a character does because of their jealousy that defines whether or not it's a bad thing. but the thing with keefe is that he never allows the fact that he likes sophie to outwardly affect sophie and fitz's relationship in any negative way when they're tentatively dating. sophie and fitz fell apart for a lot of reasons, but the reasons were entirely on sophie and fitz, and had nothing to do with keefe himself. in fact, you could argue they only lasted as long as they did because of keefe.

i complained a lot about how much he doesn't shut up about his hair in my rant. but that was mostly at his humor style and the fact that he literally talks about it at the weirdest times (in his registry file . . . ) more so than the fact itself. and truthfully, he doesn't even talk about it that much. but i think it makes a lot of sense that he takes pride in it. it's the physical manifestation of rebellion against his parents who have controlled every other aspect of his life. he's also an artist, and i think it's a pretty neat thing that that extends to the way he styles his hair. also it looks good. i will die on this hill. just don't look at the laura art. jason chan is my king and keefe's hair is very cool and- *gunshot*

there's also a handful of moments where keefe uses his humor appropriately, to ease tension. best example i can think of is the one katie brought up in this post which is the moment in flashback right before the celestial festival (climax). magnate leto gives them all these sparkler things to light if they're in danger, and keefe sets off a couple prematurely "just to make sure they work" *wink wink nudge nudge* and sophie specifically says the "bit of levity" helped tame the "monster" she's been battling the whole book. when he's able to use his humor appropriately, and not at weird times about weird things, he can be a valuable source of comfort. these moments are unfortunately few and far between, but they do exist.

keefe is also good at calming sophie down when she's panicking, when he's not using his empathy to force her to tell him her feelings. i personally like it more when he's comforting her using his words than his emotional breezes, because that speaks more to his personality than it does to his ability to use his emotional breezes to calm her down. another example katie discusses in the post above is when he's talking to her about the bronte-is-her-bio-dad theory. sophie was panicking because she was thinking about the implications of it (prentice, him acting horrible to her, etc.) and keefe brings her back down to earth with his reassurances that this doesn't change anything about her. when she says bronte can't know she knows, he immediately gets her to reconsider in a gentle way, because like. that's the entire point of her search for her bio parents. he does all this using his words (actually i just checked and he does use his emotional breezes a couple of times but his words do have an impact on their own so we're disregarding that), which does prove that he's very good at knowing what to say to keep her calm.

(also the fact that he was even helping her search for her bio parents is another example of him going above and beyond to keep her relationship to fitz intact. he didn't have to do that at all.)

and lastly, i think i mentioned this in my rant and maybe a couple other places, but i think keefe's jealousy when it comes to family is written very realistically. in neverseen, he's jealous of fitz, biana, sophie, and dex when they hug their parents, and there's a line where he specifically says "i hate watching it. them and della" (them referring to fitz and biana). in unlocked, he's again jealous of dex's family and wishes he'd been born into a family like his. and i think that's written really well. it's pretty subtle and not really shoved in your face, too. i'm pretty sure there's a total of three times it gets brought up: the "them and della" line, one line at the end of neverseen where sophie and dex are hugging edaline and kesler, and then the line in unlocked. very blink and you miss it but i like that. it's one of the few things the narrative doesn't dump a truckload of pity on keefe for, and it makes the few times it is brought up even sadder.

oh, and also i think he's handsome. sue me.

[mychoombatheroomba]

The Enemy of My Enemy

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 54

An unexpected ally gives you some insight, and the hunt begins.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

After Raccoon City, in those first weeks of training - before he’d properly met you even - Leon had found a numbing comfort in routine. Wake up. Train. Eat. Train some more. A schedule had helped him. It broke up the day into predictable steps. In this facility they were in, wherever it was, there was no such luxury. Days after the interrogations and still, Leon was unable to leave his room without supervision. He ate there, slept there and tried to find a way to keep himself sane there. Easier said than done. The days fogged into one continuous expanse, each one longer than the last. 

Habit led him to train in the room’s limited space. Krauser had taught them enough that even four concrete walls and a shitty bed could become a usable work room. Still, there were only so many push-ups he could do before his mind started to wander. 

Didn’t matter if his eyes were opened or closed, now. He could see them. All of them. 

Marvin and Ada and the rest of the lives lost in Raccoon City had company. Uninvited, their memories made those four concrete walls their home too, stuffing in around Leon and suffocating him. Too many bodies. Too many faces he would never forget. 

Alejandro, staring into the dark sky in shock. 

Doc, his face torn and barely recognizable. 

Alenko, his eyes pleading and pained right up until-

You. Leon thought of your face just as much as he sat in that room. He thought of the smiles he’d coaxed out of you over months and months together. The way your eyes, normally, would soften when they turned his way. 

He thought of how you hadn’t even looked at him as you’d passed him in that hallway. 

Those were the thoughts he was stuck with for days. Right up until the door opened at last and Leon was ushered out of that little prison cell. He was marched down the hallway, falling in line behind a familiar friend, her broad shoulders bowed with the weight of the world. 

“Dina,” Leon said, his voice soft with wounded hope. 

Williams, for her part, managed a small smile as she looked back at him. “Hey, Kennedy.” 

More cells were opened. More of their squad joined them in the line-up. Valeria, Doc’s assistant, Grayson . . . and, of course, you were there, towards the other end of the line. Leon didn’t get more than a glimpse of you before you fell into formation. No, instead, it was Krauser’s eyes that caught his own. The Major was pulled from a cell just like the rest of them. His gaze passed over you, a direct omission. Instead, it fell on Leon. An accident, the younger man was certain, and one that betrayed too many emotions Leon had never thought to see on Krauser's face.  

Exhaustion. Pain. Rage. Leon saw it all as plain as day. 

He could sympathize. 

The contact was over in a moment, and Krauser filed in, Hellman joining from his cell last. 

All of the survivors. All that was left. 

“What’s going on?” The question was whispered to Williams as they began moving. 

She didn’t have an answer for him. 

He didn’t have to wait long for one. 

Benford was waiting for them in the room they all filed into, his glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. When he told them all to take a seat, Leon couldn’t help but feel he’d stepped into some strange new world as Major Krauser obeyed alongside everyone else. A world where everything was wrong - somehow turned upside-down and inside-out and even worse than he thought it could be. 

The only thing that seemed right was the moment Benford confirmed what he’d known in his heart. 

“Agent Andrew Reed is our chief suspect for the recent attack.” The air changed, then. How could it not, when a room was full of attack dogs that had finally been given a scent to go after? “Our intelligence has tracked him as far as Russia, but beyond that, we don’t know where he is.” 

Russia. Reed hadn’t just slipped away, he’d all but disappeared. Vanished. There would be no justice for what he’d done while he was there. 

“Then send us out.” Krauser spoke with a snarl. “We’ll have him in a week.” 

Benford’s expression was sympathetic, but his answer was predictable. It wouldn't be that simple. “We can’t sanction sending you all into Russia. Not on a wild goose chase. If we can find a more clear course-”

“Every day,” Krauser stood, “every minute we sit here and wait, that bastard has time to hide. To call all his friends in Umbrella and get protection. If we don’t move now-”

“I’m aware, Major,” Benford said, his tone cool. Even. Same as always with these suits. Bastards that they were. It had crossed Leon’s mind more than once in the past few days that he couldn’t trust Benford any more than he could trust Reed. That didn’t change the fact that the man in front of them all held their leashes, whoever might be holding Benford’s in turn. “We are moving as fast as we can. The moment we find anything, we will act on it.” 

That was all they were given, along with the freedom to roam the facility they were in now. A freedom that rang hollow as you were all dismissed and you slipped out of the room like smoke through fingertips. 

He could have chased after you. He almost did. 

Instead, he let you be. Leon would do all he could do. 

He would wait.

⧫⧫⧫

Sunlight bleeding into darkness. Blunted steel. Moves and countermoves. 

It was uncanny how so many familiar things could feel alien to you. That was all down to the man holding the other knife. Hellman moved differently from any of the other STRATCOM recruits. Different training. You’d seen some of his skills shared in Reed’s style, when you’d assisted him in training. That was the reason you’d sought the agent out. Well, one of a few. 

The other two reasons . . . you’d avoided them since Derek C. Simmons turned their names into weapons. Krauser and Leon, for their parts, had done the same. Had they been threatened too? You wouldn’t be surprised. Didn’t matter. Just like the comfort you longed for in Leon’s arms didn’t matter - the way you wanted to go to him. To pray that he didn’t hate you for what you’d done. Just like the questions you had for Krauser didn’t matter - the way you wished you could understand why he’d risked so much to protect you. Even if some part of you knew. That didn’t matter. Right now, only the knife across from you did.

You suspected Hellman had reasons of his own for agreeing to this. Shame, most likely. Good. You hoped he felt shame every time you managed to slip your knife past his defenses. 

Let him feel over and over again the cost of carelessness. 

Bruises were the best teachers, weren’t they?

Over the last few days, you’d had plenty to learn from the agent as well. Now, you were pulling your knife back as he pressed a counter-cut down where you’d gone to attack. Fast, just like Reed was. Calculating, too. Good at thinking a few moves ahead. He kept catching you in the same patterns. Old habits you’d fallen into since your injury. 

“You’re protecting your ribs more than anything,” Hellman pointed out. His notes weren’t as welcome as Krauser’s. You would take them, but not without biting back. 

“Someone broke them, remember?” It might get under his skin, childish as it was. Maybe guilt would make him sloppy. You hoped it would. Guilt likely wouldn’t work on Reed when you found him, but right now? You would settle for hurting Hellman in his stead. 

It nearly worked, too, as the agent just barely batted your attack away, a followup to a series of feints. Chest, leg, chest. Hellman stayed in place, trying to grab your arm. To run his knife up in a move that would have filleted the flesh from your bone. Your knee driving upward into his stomach stopped him. The knife dropped from your right to your left, stabbing towards his gut. Another near miss. 

You had him on the defensive.

“I shouldn’t have let him-”

“What?” you pressed, trailing after him. Each slash, each thrust, you paired with sharpened words to match. “Shouldn’t have let him break my bones? Cripple our soldiers? Poison an entire base of people?” 

Hellman’s skills as a fighter were all that saved him from bruising blows with your practice blade, and even as he managed to slash at your arm in a riposte, you kept advancing. Kept forcing him up against the wall of the facility that now housed you. 

You knew better than most how a cornered animal could fight, though. 

Krauser had often warned you not to let your feelings get in the way in a fight. Now, you paid the price for not listening to him and to Hellman both. Anger made you sloppy. As you blocked a high strike at your face, you realized his free hand was going low, a fist aimed at the ribs he’d just warned you about. You inhaled sharply, moving to defend with your other hand. His knife slipped around your upper defense. Yours moved in tandem. Then, you had knives at each other’s throats. 

A draw meant death, and your own stupidity had your anger rising. 

“I should have seen him for what he was,” Hellman panted, and you realized that he was feeling much the same way you were. You’d seen honesty from the agent plenty of times before, but nothing like this. Nothing so full of all-consuming remorse, because ultimately, he had been the best equipped to catch Reed before anything happened. He’d failed, and everyone else had paid the price. “I should have seen it sooner.” 

You were past the point of pity, your world reduced to red and black. So, you didn’t waver, even with a knife to your throat. “You should have,” you declared, sinking the blade of those words into Hellman’s heart. 

Your vengeance was short-lived. 

“Don’t be so hard on the agent.” You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching, you’d been so caught up in your fight. You didn’t know the voice, smooth and steady, and that made your head snap to its source. Your blunted blade fell away from Hellman and was now ready at your side. The man you found standing before you looked utterly unimpressed, the dark glasses that hid his eyes making disinterest appear effortless. Slicked back hair, a well-pressed suit . . . if not for the blond shine of that hair in the low light, you might have mistaken him for- “Reed was well-trained. You might be surprised how well Umbrella has embedded itself in the world. But perhaps you’d like to find out.” 

As if those words weren’t enough to make your grip on the knife tighten, Hellman tensed beside you. 

Tall, which meant a long reach. Not as well-muscled as Krauser, but it was hard to tell what physique hid beneath the suit jacket over the man’s shoulders. A jacket that could conceal a weapon as well. 

“Who the hell are you?” Hellman asked, his eyes narrowed.

Thin lips curled up before the strange man spoke. “An interested party. One with knowledge of use to you.” 

Not CIA. And anyone with knowledge of worth- 

“You’re with Umbrella.” The accusation was spat from your lips, your body thrumming with potential energy. The promise of violence, even as the man stood perfectly still and straight before you. 

His smile only widened. “Interesting theory.”

"How else would you have any knowledge of use?"

There was a moment of thought, the man choosing his words carefully. "Umbrella has outlived its usefulness. You and your government aren't the only ones interested in seeing it dismantled." 

You didn't have time to question what the hell that could mean. “Then you’ll have no problems coming in for questioning,” Hellman stepped forward, a warning buried shallowly beneath his words. 

“On the contrary,” the blond man tilted his head, “you won’t be taking me in, agent. You can have the information I���m offering, and you can determine what the cost of that information will be.” 

There were security cameras. Guards . . . and that hadn’t stopped this man from getting here. It hadn’t stopped him from not only finding this facility, but breaching its defenses seemingly unnoticed. You took a steadying breath, your muscles coiling, trying to put a plan together in your mind.

“I can’t let you leave,” Hellman said. “Not if you know what you claim you do.” 

The man took a breath, then sighed it out.

You knew when a fight was coming. You could feel the shift in the air. 

Even so, you never stood a chance. 

Not when the man, who had been a good ten paces away one moment was in front of you the next. Your knife arced up, your free hand moving to a defensive position, and none of it mattered when a hand closed around your throat, the force of it making you sputter.

No time to react. No time to question. 

You saw Hellman move, but a kick sent him flying back against the wall. Your air supply cut off, your only option was the blunted blade in your hand. One that you aimed straight for the dark lenses of the man holding you-

Only for him to catch it by the steel and, all while looking at you with a smug smirk, he squeezed. Your eyes widened as you watched the metal bend like dough beneath his grip, and then those same eyes bulged as his other hand tightened at your throat. You kicked as you were lifted easily off the ground, your free hand beating against his arm, terror setting in as your vision blurred. 

He could snap your neck like a toothpick. 

He could and would.

“I’ve wasted enough time talking,” the man said, looking down at Hellman as he held you, oblivious to your struggles. Kicks that landed like hammer blows on most did nothing to move him. 

You could die here, after everything, unless-

He let the bent knife go, then reached into his pocket. He pulled something small from it. Indiscernible in your wavering state of consciousness, your grip on his wrist tightening as you gasped for air. “Take this,” he said, tossing it at Hellman's feet. “Make good use of it.” 

Just as the world was about to go black, just as you felt your grip on his arm loosening, air rushed to you and you were falling. 

"You will need every soldier you can get." 

The ground met you without remorse and you grasped at your throat, coughing and sucking in air desperately. “Sergeant!” you heard Hellman, calling for you. Footsteps and scrambling against the dirt. Your perception was all hazy images and dying light, but you were alive. 

Still alive. 

Of course you were. 

Of fucking course you were. 

You forced yourself up, your arms full of pins and needles as you moved. You saw the warped remains of your knife, and empty space where the man had once stood. Too late. Not that it would have made a difference. You never could have won that fight. At most, you would have cost him a few seconds from his time to escape. He’d done what he’d come to do.

It lay in the dirt, sealed in a protective case. A little piece of what looked like plastic, wrapped around metal. Information, he’d said.

Information that a man who could crush steel in his hand was willing to give up. 

There was no doubt in your mind; that man had been a creation of Umbrella, in some way shape or form. He knew Reed at least by name. He was setting you all after something. Something he didn’t want to handle himself. 

Another player in a game you had no control over. Another person who’d taken your life quite literally in their hands without a thought or care. You were just a piece on the board. Always had been.

All it left you with, as your lungs finally refilled with air, was more anger. More rage. If this was what the world was? How your life shaped up to be? Fine. So long as you had something to sink your teeth into. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

A/N:

Wesker: Don’t go picking a fight with me. I could make your life difficult. Sarge, sarcastically: Wow. I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life.

You know I had to get the third blond freak in there somehow. Anyway I hope you enjoyed your mandatory dose of Deus ex Wesker, he will probably not be back lol. Literary structure can kiss my ass for this cameo in particular (meaning I know this is shoehorned in but ya know what, in the spirit of Resident Evil's goofiness, I kept the idea).

Anyway, APOLOGIES for the literal month this chapter took me to post, I was moving this last month! It was a lot of work but I'm very happy with my new place! Happy enough that I immediately left on a vacation - so I've been a little busy as of late. In any case, we're coming up on the end of this story here and I'm so so excited to finally write all the craziness I have in mind! Thank you all of you for your patience, hope you enjoy the end of the ride (and will follow me into the sequel when I get to it!)

Also, fun fact, apparently Wesker dropping off a flash drive could have happened if he's got cutting edge tech, the USB flash drive was invented in April of 1999! Bro absolutely stole the design for that. What a menace.

Tag List: @greywardensaywhat

[jjonglemons]

Mr. CEO

Jongho / NSFW

You’ve been working at a new company as a Marketing Manager for nearly a year. It’s clear that Choi Jongho, the CEO, has taken a liking to you throughout your time there, and vice versa. Finally, your subtle flirtations with each other reach a boiling point.

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: smut, female reader, boss!employee, dirty talk, praise, bdsm, some fluff

Enjoy :)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Finally,” you exhaled, reaching the office building with three minutes to spare. Not that your boss, Choi Jongho, was very strict to begin with, but nonetheless, you always valued being punctual when it came to your job. Unbeknownst to you, the trains were operating on an alternative schedule due to maintenance, so naturally when you reached the station at 8 AM sharp as you always do, you began stressing when you saw the timetable. Thankfully, there weren’t any delays for once and you made it to work by the time it said you would. Today, you had a very important presentation that would be disastrous to miss.

“Good morning, Miss!” The secretary greeted you cheerfully.

“Good morning,” you nodded back, smiling kindly before making your way into your office.

For the first time, you were in a position where you weren’t stuck in a cubicle, tightly snuggled in an overcrowded space of a fire hazard quantity of colleagues. You inhaled, letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes for a moment to ground yourself for the day. Suddenly, you heard a light shuffling of footsteps that stopped in your doorway. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” You opened your eyes to see a smirking Jongho leaning against the doorframe, “how was your weekend?”

“Not too bad. I spent most of it wining and dining by myself.” You winked playfully, leaning forward to rest your chin onto your intertwined fingers. “What about you?”

“You want the honest answer or a lie?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I was babysitting my brother’s kids,” he sighed, “I love them and all, but trying to get work done while a three and five year old are screaming at you to play with them isn’t ideal, to say the least.”

You chuckled at his annoyance. That’s something you’ve dealt with yourself, being an aunt to three little ones. “I get it. Well,” you continued, “I hope you can find some time to let loose this week. I’m sure it was stressful, and only more so that we have this huge meeting today.” You knew that wasn’t going to help him feel any better, but the blunt side of you spoke up before you even realised.

“Ugh,” Jongho groaned, extra dramatically for effect, “don’t remind me. I still have some last minute tasks I need to finish.”

“Then you better get to it,” you commanded, clapping your hands and shooing him away jokingly.

He shot one final smile in your direction before taking his leave. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“All those who vote no, raise your hand.” Jongho, said as the discussions from your presentation concluded.

You felt your throat drop into the pit of your stomach upon seeing eighty percent of the room raise their hands. You expected this. This new campaign idea of yours was a risk, but nonetheless, seeing it actually fail in front of you, despite all of the hard work you put into it, punched you in the gut. Hard.

“I think she had a lot of wonderful points,” Jongho added, “would some of you care to reconsider?”

The room stayed silent, no one seeming to change their minds. Your cheeks grew hotter as your embarrassment increased, unsure whether you wanted to scream at everyone for insulting your work or cry about being a failure. You gulped, sneaking a glance at Jongho beside you. His face was stoic. Of course being the CEO, he had to save face, but you couldn’t help but notice the concern in his eyes. You could tell he genuinely liked your idea and felt empathetic to this ordeal. But unfortunately, in order to keep democracy in the company, he couldn’t just ignore everyone else's opinions on the matter.

“Seriously?” He murmured, noticeably aggravated. No one seemed to hear or notice, though, other than you. He cleared his throat. “Okay,” he sighed, “then this idea is scratched. Todd, you will be presenting on Wednesday, okay? Everyone’s dismissed, thank you for your time.”

You stayed behind as everyone filed out, needing a minute to process your humiliation. You knew it wasn’t out of hostility, but it was hard not to take it personally, especially since this idea was one of the few you were really proud of. You truly hoped it would have been a game changer.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jongho was still in the room with you. “I’m sorry,” he expressed, continuing to clean the whiteboard, “I know you put a lot of thought into this from the little bits you’ve shared with me throughout the month. I wish I could have done more.”

You smiled, some of your unpleasant feelings fading into a sense of affection towards your boss. He may be your authority, but he’s always treated you as an equal. As a friend, not just a colleague. You’d admitted to yourself already that you had a crush on him, but it would likely pose an issue if you were to attempt to pursue anything. Though, you weren’t stupid; you could tell the feelings were mutual. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Honestly, I’m pissed. I wanted to tell everyone how much they sucked,” you laughed, “but obviously that wouldn't have helped anything. I really loved this idea.”

“I’m mad, too,” Jongho said, gritting his teeth slightly, “you’re the best marketer in this fucking company and I’m tired of people not noticing that. Or ignoring it, I don’t know. Whatever it is, you deserve so much better.” He was inches away from your face now, “If I wasn’t trying to be a good boss, I’d say “fuck it” to the votes and have your idea plastered everywhere immediately.”

Thankfully the meeting room was windowless- even the door was lacking a peephole- because if someone were to walk by at this very moment, the way you two were standing would raise suspicion. 

“That’s sweet of you,” you said softly, lightly biting your lip.

Jongho stared at you for a moment, watching your movements. He had a million thoughts running through his head. He was angry on your behalf, at how much the colleagues seemed to undervalue you. He was angry at himself for not doing more to help, but realistically, he knew he couldn’t do that without turning into an inconsiderate boss, and he never wanted to be one that didn’t listen to nor care about his employees. He kept thinking about how beautiful you are; how kind and attentive you’ve been towards him, and everyone, since you started working there. He couldn’t forget the fact that you always stood by his side when rumours about him would spread around the office, giving him the benefit of the doubt. 

Despite only knowing each other for just short of a year, you truly saw him. All of the times you’d peak into his office when you’d stay late, noticing the art doodles that decorated his notebook as you quietly said goodbye to him. Or the times he’d fallen asleep at his desk, so you’d carefully organize his folders into a nice pile just so he’d have less to think about when he’d wake up to go home. All of the little things that made him Choi Jongho as a person, not just a CEO.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he was your boss. All he wanted was to show you that he cared and was proud of you, even if no one else did. 

And that’s when he lost all sense of reason and forgot you were anyone but Y/N, his friend and the person he was surely falling in love with.

“Can I kiss you?” Jongho asked, his voice coming out as a gentle whisper.

You blinked a few times in shock, unsure whether you had misheard him or not.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” he added, scratching his head shyly as he stepped away from you. He blushed, darting his eyes towards the wall. 

“Yes,” you said, interrupting the train of self-deprecating thoughts that were beginning to form in his mind. “Please kiss me,” you finished, adding more confidence to your tone.

Jongho inhaled sharply with nervousness and excitement for a moment before his lips found yours. He cupped your chin to bring you deeper into the kiss, but he suddenly stopped and pulled back, leaving you confused.

“The door,” is all he said before rushing over to quickly lock it and return back to you.

You gripped at the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer so that your bodies closed the gap between the two of you. Your tongue found its way into his mouth rather quickly, earning a muffled moan from him. 

“Shhh,” you giggled between kisses, “you have to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” he assured, gripping your hips so he could push up against your core, “will you be, though?” he teased. He trailed his fingers along your hips to reach the button of your trousers, tugging at it lightly.

“Is that a challenge?” You baited, biting down on his lower lip. He whimpered, causing you to erupt into a giggle again, “damn, seems like you’ve already lost.”

Jongho’s eyes became clouded with a lustful glare, your taunting pressing him in all of the best ways. He flipped you over, pushing you against the meeting table. He gripped your hair and pulled your head up so it was flesh with his chest, his head dropping beside your ear. You could feel the heat of his breath trickling down the side of your neck. “I don’t think so, love,” he smirked. 

He used his free hand to unbutton your trousers, moving his fingers closer to your sex painfully slow. You hissed, wriggling beneath his grip. “Don’t tease me, Jongho,” you scoffed, “I’m already mad, so don’t make it worse.”

While this fact was true, you both knew you were just using those words as an excuse to rowel each other up even more. He chuckled as he reached your dripping core, fingers sliding between your folds as he began to make circles on your clit with a slow, yet urgent pace.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jongho breathed, “I knew you liked me, but I didn’t know it was this much.”

“Who said I liked you?” You hummed, fluttering your eyes shut.

“Ha,” he scoffed, pushing one finger into you, “you couldn’t lie about that even if you tried.” 

Your moans began to grow in volume as Jongho pressed the tip of his fingers against your g-spot, sending shivers through your entire body. He slowly entered with a second finger, being careful not to hurt you. He began to curl his fingers, feeling your arousal increase with each movement. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he hummed, watching the way you twitched beneath him. He used the weight of him and the resistance of the table to keep you steady, moving the hand that was gripping your hair to now cover your mouth. “As much as I want to hear those pretty little moans of yours, I don’t need either of us getting fired.”

“Aren’t you the one who fires people?” You managed to get out through the shifts of his hand from the movement of your bodies.

Jongho didn’t respond. He was too engrossed in the feeling of your wet pussy around his fingers. He pushed a finger into your mouth, earning a slight gag from you. You began to bite down and suck on it, causing him to hiss. He started to pump his fingers faster, placing his thumb on your clit for more stimulation.

“Fuck, Jongho,” you whined as quietly as you could, “I’m going to come too soon if you keep this up.”

“I want to see you unravel,” he paused briefly to turn you once again so you were facing him. He picked you up to sit you on top of the table, quickly pulling your trousers down to your ankles so he had full access. He kept his hands steady on your thighs, deciding to take a seat in one of the meeting chairs so his lips could meet your sex. He sucked on your clit, making sure to add a bit of teasing by playing with pressure and taking small breaks to tug at your lips. "You deserve this, baby," he moaned as he continued to taste you. 

You could feel your orgasm building up more and more by the second, but you didn’t want to cum without feeling him inside of you first. “Baby,” you moaned, “please fuck me. I want to cum with you in me.”

Jongho didn’t waste any time as he quickly stood up, pushed the chair away, and unbuckled his belt as he placed kisses on your nose and lips. You pushed his hands away from his throbbing member so you could give him some foreplay, too. You slowly moved your hands up and down his shaft, feathering the touch when it reached his tip.

“Shit,” he inhaled sharply, losing his balancing ever so slightly he had to grip the edges of table to keep him steady, “that feels so fucking good, love.”

You kept going as you slowly inched yourself towards him so your core was now hovering over his hard cock. He placed his hands onto your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Can I?” He asked through heavy breaths.

You nodded, guiding him inside of you. You both let out a hum of release simultaneously, taking a moment to just savour how it felt to be connected in such an intimate way. 

“I never thought our first time together would be in a meeting room,” you joked, tugging on his arm so as to tell him he could start moving. He began thrusting into you steadily, sighs of pleasure dripping from his lips. “It’s fun, though,” you added, with a near ungodly tone as he reached the right spot at that same moment. Your mouth hung agape in pure bliss, your eyes alternating between absorbing his fucked out face and watching how he fucked you.

Your wetness engulfed his cock, Jongho choking on the moans he so desperately was trying to hold back. “I’m so proud of you, taking my cock like this.” He bit down on his lip, hard, hoping it would stop them from escaping. “Baby, I could do this every day,” he said, quickening his pace, “I could live inside this sweet pussy of yours.”

“It’s only yours, Jongho.”

Something about you willingly handing yourself over to him triggered the possessive, animalistic part of him, and he began to thrust into you deeper with one hand reaching up to grip your neck.

“Oh, fuck,” you screamed with a whisper, placing your hand over his on your neck to keep it right where you wanted it, “please, Jongho, more.”

“I might break this table if I do that,” he growled, squeezing your neck a little harder.

“Then just fuck me on the floor.”

Before you knew it, he had your legs thrown over his shoulders, back pressed against the carpeted floor. Who knew how many people had walked on it with their gross, outdoor shoes, but at that moment, you didn’t care. All you wanted was for Jongho to keep fucking you and make you cum for the remainder of the work day. 

“Baby, I’m going to cum soon,” Jongho said, pulling at your ankles to keep you as close to him as possible so he could keep pounding into you relentlessly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated over and over with each thrust. “Look at you, so perfectly fitting around me.”

A scream began to escape from your mouth, so you threw your forearm up to it to bite on for suppression. Your muffled whines and convulsions underneath of Jongho pushed him further to his climax, his eyes beginning to roll back as your body shook more aggressively. “Fuck, Y/N” he let out a loud grunt with one final, deep thrust, throwing his head back in pure bliss as he filled you up. This final thrust sent you over the edge, flailing beneath him. You screeched quietly, gripping his arm tightly as you spilled your juices down the sides of his cock. The two of you laid there for a moment, heavily breathing as you came down from your highs. 

You looked at each other, beginning to grin as you both reentered the present. You propped yourself up onto your shoulders, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He blushed, pulling you up so he could fall back onto his butt and have you seated in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling himself into your neck, peppering kisses along your shoulder.

“So,” you said after a few moments of quiet, “how are we going to explain this when we leave the room?”

[butmakeitgayblog]

I need a one shot of the first time Clarke is alone with Sal. Do they just stare at each other? Play? Does Lexa come home to find them passed out cuddle up with empty plates lol

A summary will have to suffice because I have,,, way to many wips 😂

But it would be an experience.

Truthfully it'd be Clarke being a bit nervous but also jazzed but also very like "Lexa. He is... a dog. I'm not sure if you remember, but I raised an entire child. A human being. I think I got this. You can go, we'll be ok."

So Lexa would go. Affectionately bumping heads with the moose once in a reminder to behave himself, and kissing her girl twice on the lips in 'thank you' for holding down the fort while she runs into school for a last minute department meeting. Reminders that he won't need to eat until she's home getting tossed over her shoulder while she snatches up her keys, along with running through a checklist of toy locations, treat options, and walk times that Clarke already damn well knows.

Her last lingering kiss would be met with an eye roll and a slap on the ass to actually get herself out the door.

Sal's heavy sigh in her immediate absence would be followed by a pathetically needy sounding whine, which has Clarke just looking down into his big droopy eyes and nodding.

Cuz she gets it.

"I know, bud... 'Cept I usually make that sound when she walks into a room."

It's not surprising that her comedy is lost on the audience.

Other than that, it would be fine. Sal would know Clarke well by then, and while she is not mom, she is still very much friend shaped. So it's all good by him.

The half empty pack of hot dogs bought not-at-all as a doggie bribing tactic that Clarke keeps hidden in the back of Lexa's lunch meat drawer helps with those feelings as well.

So they'd waste the few hours going back and forth between playing catch and wiggly butting running in the back garden and watching bits and pieces of trashy television. Just a chill time between doggie and dogsitter.

Of course when Lexa comes home to a completely silent house, her first thought is,,, what the fuck happened? Because Sal always meets her at the door. Every day. Without fail. Even when she picks him up from the neighbors.

Except that day, he is nowhere to be seen.

But she keeps her cool because she trusts Clarke and there's no way something catastrophic happened in 3 hours. If there had been, Clarke absolutely would've called her. She knows this.

Which is why she's genuinely only curious as she wanders through the eerily silent house in search of her two favorite faces. Living room, empty. Hallways deserted. Kitchen, quiet as a mouse.

It's only when she loops back around from checking the backyard with the full intention of heading back out front to see if maybe they'd gone on a late afternoon walk, that she notices the display in her bedroom.

Specifically, a crashed out saint bernard taking up 3/4ths if her bed with a snoozing blonde squeezed cuddled in right behind him.

As in, if Clarke tried to roll over onto her back she'd 100% end up on the floor.

And just... What is Lexa even supposed to do with that. How is she supposed to handle that sight? How can she resist when her quiet call of, "Sal. Are you making moves on my girl, young man?" only earns her a lifted furry head and a snort of dismissal before it flops back down on her pillow.

The answer is obviously to toe her shoes off and hang her blazer on the handle, just to ease herself onto the roughly postage stamp sized bit of bed left available. The answer is obviously to gently brush the chaos of hair back from Clarke's face and press whisper soft kisses to her shoulder. To her neck. To the perfectly shaped shell of her ear, before nuzzling into the sleep warmed mess of blonde and drifting off as well.

[alilixx]

Heyy could u write a greg house x reader

Shes a doctor or prob a surgeon and its like season 1 ep 13 , she gets sick and needs a heart transplant or something like that but she doesn’t want to then house convinces her coz he likes her and house lies for her so she can get the transplant and they used to flirt before and all but after that they confess about liking each other and start dating ☺️ thanks

IM SOO SORRYYY SCHOOL STARTED AGAINNN SOO LESS TIME FOR WRITE FANFIC BUT I WILL TRY WRITE FOR EVERY WEDNESDAY AND WEEKEND <33

Surgeon!FemReader x Gregory House

You had already noticed unusual signs for several weeks. At first, it was just fatigue. Nothing more. You convinced yourself it was due to your endless hours in the operating room, those sleepless nights that kept piling up. Just a bit of exhaustion, something every surgeon knows well. But the palpitations intensified, followed by slight dizziness, then that crushing sensation in your chest, as if your own heart was fighting against you. You eventually ran a series of tests, discreetly, hoping it was nothing.

But the results didn’t lie: severe dilated cardiomyopathy. Your heart, your most precious instrument, the one that allowed you to save lives day after day, was betraying you. But you refused to believe it.

Today, as you sat in House’s office, surrounded by his diagnostic team, you were desperately searching for a way out, an alternative explanation. Something that would prove this was all a mistake. After all, you were a doctor, you knew diagnoses were never infallible.

"I want your opinion," you finally said, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from what was coming next. "I did my own tests, but I want to be sure. Maybe I'm too involved to see things clearly."

House looked up, intrigued by your direct tone. "Too involved? You mean, too much in denial."

Cameron stepped forward to review your results, her eyes scanning every detail. "The echocardiograms clearly show dilatation of the heart chambers. You already have a heart murmur, you’ve felt it, haven’t you?"

You frowned, hesitating to respond. Of course you had felt it. But admitting it would make everything more real.

"I want to believe it’s something else," you murmured, your voice betraying, for the first time, a hint of vulnerability. "I’m a surgeon. I can’t... afford to have a failing heart."

Foreman shook his head, pragmatic as always. "You can’t afford not to act either. If you let this get worse, you won’t even have the chance to enter the operating room next time."

You looked away, your throat tight. Fear was rising inside you, a fear you hadn’t felt in a long time. You had always been able to control everything, every incision, every move. But now, it was your own body slipping through your fingers.

House, as always, wasted no time twisting the knife.

"It’s fascinating. You’d rather believe that all this will resolve itself, as if your heart is just going to miraculously decide to heal. Spoiler alert: it won’t." He tilted his head, scrutinizing your face. "But I’m curious. Why consult my team if you’ve already done the tests yourself? Looking for validation or an excuse to do nothing?"

His sarcasm irritated you, but you knew he was right. "Because I want... I want to be sure."

"Sure of what? That you’re dying? Let me confirm it for you, you are. Now that’s settled, we can move on to the next step: you’re refusing the only solution that could save you because you’re afraid of losing control. Interesting, but not surprising."

"I’m not afraid," you retorted, more to convince yourself than to answer him.

House didn’t believe you for a second. He moved closer, leaning his cane against the edge of his desk.

"You’re lying to yourself." His gaze pierced through yours, as if he could see past all your defenses. "You’ve seen how many transplants fail. But you’ve also seen how many succeed. So why condemn yourself when you know you have a chance to make it?"

Silence fell over the room. His words struck you deeper than you wanted to admit. You had spent months running from this reality, pretending it was just a passing episode. But here you were, sitting in front of specialists who left you no escape. That’s when House chose to play his final card.

"I’m going to ask you a very simple question." He sat back behind his desk, tapping the file of his favorite patient: you. "Do you want to die just to stay loyal to your own arrogance? Or do you want to live long enough to annoy me even more?"

You felt a strange warmth rising to your cheeks. House hadn’t spoken those words with his usual cynicism. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but you knew he genuinely cared about you. And that thought unsettled you more than anything else.

You lowered your eyes to your trembling hands. You were a surgeon, a strong person. Yet, for the first time in a long while, you felt vulnerable. And House had seen it from the very beginning.

The silence in House’s office was heavy after the intense discussion about your condition. The diagnosis was now certain: a heart transplant was your only chance. Yet, one question remained, one that had been haunting you. If you were really going to undergo this operation, there was only one person you trusted enough to put your life in their hands: House.

So, in a rare moment of vulnerability, you took a deep breath and asked the question you had been dreading from the start.

"I want it to be you. You’ll be my surgeon."

The team exchanged stunned glances. House, however, remained silent for a moment, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. Then he let out a dry laugh.

"Me? No. Bad idea. Very bad idea."

You frowned, stung by his reaction. "Why? You’re one of the best doctors I know."

House straightened up, pressing his cane against the floor before fixing you with an unusually serious look. "I’m not a surgeon. I diagnose. I play with ideas, I take risks, but I don’t hold a scalpel over living patients. I don’t do surgeries."

You couldn���t believe what you were hearing. He was so confident, so skilled at solving impossible cases, and yet, here in front of you, he seemed hesitant. You stepped closer to him, determined to understand.

"Are you afraid of messing up?" you asked, your voice low but sharp.

House let out a sarcastic laugh, but you sensed a certain nervousness behind his tone. "No, I’m afraid of killing someone because of my damn leg and my trembling hands. If you want someone to do this surgery without screwing it up, ask a real surgeon."

His rejection hurt you deeply. You had opened up to him, and he was pushing you away without a moment’s hesitation. You felt anger rising within you, mixed with the pain of a feeling you didn’t want to name.

"I thought I could trust you," you whispered, your eyes burning with disappointment. "But I see I was wrong."

Before he could respond, you turned on your heels and left the office, leaving House and the team behind. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as you walked towards your own uncertain future. Your heart was pounding painfully, both physically and emotionally. He had rejected you when you had offered him your fragile trust.

A few days later, you found yourself in the pre-op room, your face calm, but your mind in turmoil with conflicting emotions. You had finally accepted the transplant, even though it terrified you. Another surgeon had been assigned for the operation, a competent colleague, but not House. His refusal still haunted you, the abrupt way he had pushed you away, as if your life meant nothing to him.

The medical team busied themselves around you, but all you could hear was a dull hum, lost in your thoughts. An anesthesiologist approached, and as you lay down on the operating table, a strange sense of calm washed over you.

Then, in the haze of preparation, something caught your attention. A voice, familiar, behind the masks and caps.

"Start the anesthesia. We’re going ahead with the transplant."

You weakly opened your eyes. It was House.

Your heart skipped a beat, as if, even before the surgery, he already knew how to unsettle you. You tried to move, to speak, but the anesthesia was already taking effect. Everything became blurry, but you heard his voice clearly, that deep, slightly rough voice that comforted you despite yourself.

"Sleep now, it'll be fine. You’ll be alive to yell at me later."

Then total darkness.

You woke up in a hospital room. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, and you felt a dull ache in your chest. But more than that, you felt your heart beating. A new heart. A strange sensation, both comforting and unsettling.

You slowly turned your head, and to your surprise, you saw House sitting in the corner of the room, his gaze fixed on you. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes locked on yours with a new intensity, almost worried.

"I knew you were stubborn, but you really outdid yourself this time," he said, without a hint of humor.

You looked at him, still too weak to speak. Then, slowly, you remembered what had happened before the surgery. He had refused. You had been hurt. But now, he was here.

"You... operated on me?" you finally murmured, your voice hoarse.

House gave a slight nod, avoiding your gaze for a moment. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice, apparently. Everyone’s incompetent except me." But there was something else in his voice, an unspoken admission.

You tried to sit up, but the pain in your chest made you wince. House immediately stood up and moved closer to you. "Take your time. Don’t be stupid."

You stared at him, still in shock from what you had just discovered. "Why? Why did you do it when you said you didn’t want to?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because..." He paused, searching for the right words. That wasn’t like him. "Because I couldn’t let another surgeon kill you. If someone was going to save you or lose you, it had to be me."

He looked straight into your eyes, and this time, you saw the fear behind his usual cynicism. The fear of losing you, the fear of failing. It wasn’t just about the surgery, it was about feelings, the ones he didn’t want to admit, but which were so clear in that suspended moment.

"You were scared," you said softly, a slight smile on your lips. House looked away, grumbling. "I’m not afraid of anything. I’m just smarter than everyone else."

But you knew. You knew he had taken this risk because he cared about you, even if he would never say it outright. You placed your hand on his, a simple gesture, but one that spoke for you. And, against all odds, he didn’t pull his hand away.

The days following the surgery were filled with moments of uncertainty and relief. Each steady beat of your new heart was a promise that life would go on, a victory against fate. But something lingered, like a palpable tension between you and House. He came to see you almost every day, always with his usual sarcasm, but something had changed.

That morning, you woke up with the same familiar pain in your chest, but this time it was different — the pain of healing. You slowly sat up in your bed, observing the soft light filtering through the hospital curtains. Your body was still weak, but each day felt like a small victory. And despite the fatigue, you were more clear-headed than ever.

The door to your room opened gently, and of course, House walked in, leaning on his cane with that familiar limp you knew so well. He stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your condition, then casually remarked:

"How’s my favorite patient? Still alive, apparently."

You managed a smile, even though part of you still wondered why he could never be serious for more than a few seconds. "I’m doing well, Greg. And you know it."

He raised an eyebrow at the sound of his name. That wasn’t something you used often. Usually, you always called him "House," like everyone else.

He came closer and sat in the chair next to your bed, letting out a sigh. "Well, that’s good news. I would have hated to explain to the team that I messed up my best patient. That would be bad for my reputation."

You knew he used humor to mask something deeper. A silence settled in, almost comfortable, but filled with unspoken words.

"Why did you decide to operate on me?" you finally asked, breaking the silence. "I hurt you when I asked, but you did it anyway."

House looked away, as he often did when faced with a question that was too personal. He tapped his cane against the floor, searching for words or perhaps a way to sidestep the answer.

"It was a challenge. I couldn’t let another surgeon handle such a complex operation, especially on someone as annoying as you." He smiled, but his gaze betrayed something else, something more sincere. "And I guess I was a little afraid you’d slip away from me."

This confession took you by surprise. You knew House wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, especially not with such direct words. You watched him in silence, your thoughts swirling. He had taken a huge risk by operating on you, not just medically, but emotionally.

"I’m not going to slip away from you, Greg," you murmured. "Not now."

His eyes settled on you, softer than usual. "Not now," he repeated, almost to himself.

Initially, it was supposed to be temporary. Just long enough for you to fully recover from the surgery, for your body to adjust to the new heart, and for you to be closely monitored, "just in case." House had insisted, almost casually, on this option.

"It would be stupid to leave you alone. If something goes wrong, I’d rather have you in my sight, not on the other side of town," he had said, as if the decision was purely pragmatic.

You had hesitated. Living at House's, even temporarily, seemed risky, given the complexity of your relationship. But somewhere, you felt that beneath his usual cynicism, he genuinely cared about you. So you had agreed, thinking it would last just a few days, maybe a week or two.

The first night at his place was strange. His apartment, which you had visited a few times before, felt more welcoming than you had imagined. A blend of old and modern, of perfectly organized chaos, typical of House. Medical books stacked everywhere, piano sheets scattered about, whiskey bottles casually left on the coffee table. You felt like an intruder in his space, but he made no effort to make you feel otherwise.

"Make yourself at home. I don’t have silk pillows or almond milk, but there’s unlimited Ibuprofen," he had said, settling onto his couch with a glass of whiskey.

That first night was calm. House kept an eye on you from the corner of his gaze, even though he pretended to be absorbed in an old documentary. Despite the strangeness of the situation, a certain serenity had settled in.

The next day, as you began to get used to this new arrangement, someone knocked at the door. You weren’t expecting visitors, especially not this early in the morning. House, already up (for once), went to open it, and you immediately recognized the familiar voice of James Wilson.

"Hey, House, I brought donuts. I wanted to talk to you about a case..." His voice cut off abruptly as he entered the living room and saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in hand.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Wilson looked at you, then at House, then back at you, as if he had stumbled upon a scene he couldn’t quite comprehend.

"What the... ? What are you doing here?"

You gave a slight smile, a bit embarrassed, while House, completely unfazed, grabbed one of the boxes of donuts that Wilson had brought.

"She lives here. Well, temporarily," House replied before taking a bite out of a donut, as if the situation was perfectly normal.

Wilson stood there, speechless for several seconds. "You... you let her live with you? You?"

House shrugged. "It’s easier for post-operative monitoring. And besides, she’s not unbearable. Well, not all the time."

Wilson blinked, still in shock. He slowly sat down on a chair, setting down the other box of donuts. "That... that’s so unlike you, Greg."

"Well, maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe it’s just convenient." House made a dismissive gesture, but you could see that even for him, this situation was still new.

Wilson gave you a questioning look, searching for answers. You simply shrugged, an amused smile on your lips. "It’s temporary, really."

Wilson shook his head, clearly disturbed but also amused. "If you tell me he let you choose a movie last night, I think I’m going to faint."

You laughed lightly, and even House cracked a small smile, despite himself. The tension slowly faded, and Wilson relaxed, even though he continued to shoot you incredulous glances from time to time.

Days passed, and what was supposed to be a temporary arrangement stretched on longer than expected. There was no specific date for your departure, and House didn’t seem in a hurry to see you go. In fact, he even seemed to enjoy your presence, even if he categorically refused to admit it.

One evening, as you settled into the couch with a blanket over your knees, House sat down next to you without a word. He turned on the TV and flipped through channels until he found an old black-and-white movie. It had become a routine: you spent the evenings together, sometimes in silence, sometimes exchanging sarcastic comments about what you were watching.

It was in this tranquility that Wilson made his second appearance at House's place.

"I brought wine," he announced as he walked in, looking noticeably more comfortable with the situation this time.

You smiled, shifting a bit to make room for him. House raised an eyebrow. "Wine? Since when do you bring wine to my place?"

Wilson shrugged. "I thought we could celebrate... I don’t know, this strange normality?" He glanced at you as if to make sure everything was okay.

The evening went off without a hitch. The wine flowed, sarcasm flew, and Wilson, despite his more serious habits, allowed himself to be caught up in the relaxed atmosphere. The movies changed on the screen, but soon it was the discussions that took over.

"I have to say, I’m still surprised you let her stay," Wilson remarked, casting a glance at House.

House, lounging casually on the couch, responded without really looking at Wilson. "It’s not so bad. She doesn’t bother me too much. Unlike you."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I bring you wine, I do my best not to invade your space, and this is how you thank me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "He doesn’t know how to do anything else, James. You know him."

"That’s true," Wilson replied with a smile. "But anyway, I’m glad you’re recovering well. He seems to be taking good care of you."

You turned to House, who was clearly avoiding your gaze. "He’s doing what he can," you said softly, but with a smile in your voice.

House pretended not to hear, focusing on the television. But in his silences, you could feel that he was getting used to this new life.

Days passed, and what was supposed to be a temporary living arrangement quietly settled into a routine. Little by little, you had begun to integrate into House's daily life, and he, without a word, had allowed you to do so.

One evening, after a long day at the hospital, you got home before him. House had sent you a terse message: "I’ll be late. Bistro operation in the kitchen." You smiled at his words, already imagining what that meant.

Tired but determined not to let it get you down, you began rummaging through House's kitchen cabinets. He had everything, but nothing was in its place. A controlled chaos that, surprisingly, made sense to you. You grabbed some vegetables and an old skillet, determined to prepare something before his return. The kitchen was a place where you could lose yourself in simple tasks, away from the complexities of your work as a surgeon.

A few dozen minutes later, as you were focused on a sauce you were preparing, the door opened. House entered, looking tired but intrigued by the aromas wafting from the kitchen.

"Are you pretending to be a chef now?" he said as he approached you.

You smiled without turning around, continuing to stir the sauce. "I thought it would be a change from pizza boxes and whiskey."

House leaned in slightly to smell what you were making, nodding his head in approval. "I suppose that works for me. But if it’s bad, you’ll hear me complain for days."

You chuckled softly, knowing very well he meant it half-seriously. He made no attempt to push you away from the kitchen; on the contrary, he grabbed a knife and started slicing the bread, his movements precise despite the cane that always lingered nearby.

The scene was almost domestic. House, with his usual sarcasm, and you, focused on your sauce. You didn’t talk much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a certain peace in these simple moments. You sensed that he was getting used to this new dynamic, even though he was still incapable of admitting it out loud.

"I have to admit," he finally said, slicing a piece of bread, "you’re not doing too badly for a surgeon. Maybe it’s time to change careers."

You gave him an amused look. "You say that now, but just wait until you taste it."

"Oh, I fully intend to critique every bite."

He was smiling slightly, but you could feel the bond growing a little stronger with each shared meal, each simple task completed together.

It had been a long time since you had left the operating room, but you didn’t miss your home at all, and House understood that... well, House is House.

A few weeks later, after several similar evenings, you had finally made official what was happening between you. It hadn’t been a grand romantic declaration, far from it. As with everything involving House, things had evolved naturally, in a sort of unspoken agreement that was becoming clearer and clearer. One evening, as you were both settled on the couch, he had placed his hand over yours, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you mind if we drop the ‘temporary’?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

You felt your heart race, even though the question was posed in that casual tone that characterized him. You squeezed his hand slightly in response, your smile overshadowing the answer you didn’t even need to say. Indeed, it was his way of asking you to be his girlfriend.

The following Monday, things were different, but not enough to shake up the universe of Princeton-Plainsboro. You had decided to keep nothing hidden, but without making it a topic of conversation. After all, it was impossible to hide anything from House’s team.

Wilson, of course, was the first to react. When he saw you enter the hospital together that morning, he furrowed his brow, an expression somewhere between amusement and surprise.

"So, it’s official? You finally made it official?"

True to form, House simply rolled his eyes. "Officially? If it makes you happy to label it that way, then yes."

Wilson smiled, a little too pleased with himself. "I knew this would happen, but I have to say, it’s impressive that you held out this long before admitting it."

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, amused by the dynamic between the two friends. "He has his moments of resistance," you added jokingly.

But the real test came when you arrived in the diagnostic room, where House’s team was already gathered. Chase, Cameron, and Foreman were discussing a new case, but they all looked up when you walked in together.

Chase was the first to react, his eternal smirk in place. "Oh, I see. That’s why we all stayed until midnight last week. You had ‘personal’ plans."

House stopped, crossing his arms with a piercing look. "You’re right, Chase. And if you keep talking, you’ll end up with the chore of sanding the autopsy room again. Unless, of course, you want to find yourself a social life."

Foreman cracked a playful smile while Cameron seemed half-surprised, half-envious. "So... you’re together?" she asked with a mix of shyness and curiosity.

You exchanged a glance with House. You hadn’t discussed how you were going to handle this with the rest of the team, but it seemed it was already out in the open.

"Yes," you replied simply, with confidence. "We’re together."

Without missing a beat, House added with a smirk, "But don’t worry. It’s not going to affect my desire to make your lives miserable."

You had gotten into the habit of cooking together from time to time, even though House continued to tease you about your culinary skills. You also spent many quiet evenings talking about everything and nothing or simply watching movies in silence.

One evening, as you were chopping vegetables in the kitchen, House approached you and set a glass of wine on the counter.

"Looks like we’ve become boring, huh?"

You laughed softly, setting down the knife. "If that’s what you call boring, I’m perfectly fine with that."

He looked at you, a smile softer than usual on his lips. "Well, as long as you’re okay with it, I guess I can get used to the boredom."

It was the first time he admitted, without sarcasm or dark humor, that he enjoyed this new life together. And you knew that behind his facade was a man deeply attached, even if he showed it in his own way.

[fictionalmenxyn]

•✧𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰✧•

Pairing: Drew x singer/actress!reader

(The parts that are Itallic are what you would see in the video rather than in person)

Warnings: language, slightly emotional reader (for good reason)

Face claim: Billie Eilish (what a cutie 😊)

•✧•✧•

Once again, your time has come. Your yearly interview.

This time, Drew was sat behind the camera. You sat in the directors chair. You smiled at the camera and spoke “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n.. it’s currently October eighteenth, twenty-twenty-four” you smile.

Other versions of you repeat those words, only difference is the year… oh! And also your appearance, obviously.

Drew was sat on a chair opposite you and behind the camera. A big smile on his face. He loved these interviews of you.

First question ‘biggest thing that happened in your career?’ You smiled and scrunched your nose. You then lean forward in your chair and whispered the camera “I got two oscars.” You balled your fists in excitement and scrunched your face. “Two! Not one, but two… still feels like a dream”

You watch your year-younger self, “I got six Grammys! Ah!” You chuckle at your past self. You looked to the camera “two oscars and six Grammys… damn..” you and Drew laugh.

‘What’s the most important things to you right now?’ You smiled at the question. You tilt your head to look around the camera and to Drew. You answered “my love, my everything… Drew mother fucking Starkey…” he chuckled. You wave him over “c’mere, babe…” he got the green light from the director and walked over to you.

You opened your arms, he leaned down and hugged you as you sat in the chair. As he pulls away slightly, he kissed your forehead. You smiled “this is whats important to me… my Drew…” you both knew the fans were gonna make edits and comments about this. You were honestly excited to see the edits. You loved how cute your fans were when it came to you and Drew.

You and Drew watched your younger self “uh probably my boyfriend… he’s the best-” younger you looked to the camera “I love ya, Drew!” You both laughed.

Drew kissed your forehead once more, then went back behind the camera; sitting in his chair once again.

‘Craziest fan moment?’ You answered “it was at New York, my latest tour. I noticed a girl in the crowd. She looked like she had something in her hand. So when we did our usual ten minute break. I walked over to her, cause she didn’t leave her spot. She held a box, saying it was a gift for me and she couldn’t get vip tickets to meet backstage. So I opened it, and i literally broke down crying, happy tears of course. What was in the box, was a handmade painting of Drew and I. In a frame, it was our photo I said was my favourite of us. On the set of outer banks, still dressed in our characters clothes. On our characters dirt bikes, our heads against each others. She said it took her eighteen hours. It’s not a crazy moment, but definitely sentimental…”

You watched younger you, ‘dude, everyone kept throwing T-shirts with Drew’s face on stage!” You laughed. Still having them shirts. You never got rid of them. Never crossed you mind to get rid of them.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ You smiled and shook your head “no I don’t…” your grin grew bigger as you lifted your left hand up “I got a fiancé!!” Drew’s smile only grew bigger. God you were so cute in his mind. Always have, always will.

You look at last year’s clip “yes I do, Drew, my childhood bestie, and lover, love his soul… miss my baby, haven’t saw him in a few hours… gonna see him later though excited.” You laughed at your younger you.

‘Describe your style in three words’ you smiled and tilted your head “open to opportunity.”

Your 2023 self said “live laugh Drew” you bursted out laughing and replied “I said that?!” You laughed.

‘Favourite movie?’ You smiled “ooo probably Beetlejuice… the original, although the new one is really good.. you know I love a good Tim Burton movie…”

You answered “Batman The Dark Knight, Cillian and Heath are soooo good in that movie, so was Christian Bale… but Cillian and Heath…” you playfully roll your eyes at younger you. You remarked “god I was practically drooling over that movie” you laugh.

‘What are you working on currently?’ You smiled “well, as you recently found out, I’m working on an album… which is half done… and I’m starring in the newest Outer Banks season, once again…”

2023 you spoke “a movie and Outer Banks… oh! And a single…”

‘One thing you’d like to do with your career this year?’ You smiled “as usual, to star in a Tim Burton movie…” you wink at the camera.

Younger you answered “obviously star in a Tim Burton movie, pretty sure I said that since like the third year, right??” You chuckle.

You look to the camera, “thanks for checking in on me, Vanity Fair… once again a great yearly catch up! I love you guys!” You waved Drew to come back over. Which he did. He leaned down to get into frame. You both smile, you spoke “we love you all! See you soon!”

•✧•✧•

[louis-disciple]

One thing that fandom misses is that the antiblackness and racism Louis faces is also a reason why Louis hesitates to take to vampirism naturally. Because at its core vampirism is about the taking of life to sustain your own. Not taking into account the pain and grief you cause just so you can thrive and live a comfortable life. Taking life with no hesitancy because you feel you are owed a life to survive.

Just like white people during slavery and the Jim Crow era. Who took lives of human beings to live a better life. Beat them, killed them, raped them. Played with them. Vampirism is about dehumanising humans. Louis knows how it feels to be dehumanised by those who have more power over you so they justify their actions.

Of course he'd be hesitant to do what was done to him. Its not just about his catholic guilt, saying so would just be so one dimensional to Louis' character.

It's about the guilt of being not on the receiving end of what he suffered. To be the one dehumanising people whether it's a black person or a white person. He knows families whose son or daughter were taken away from them for fickle reasons.

I don't think non-poc colour can understand the guilt you feel to treat others like how someone prejudice treats you. Even if it's someone in the same position as you or not. The guilt alone eats at you.

So it makes sense he struggled with it. Because he had to deal with racism from the day he was born until present day in Dubai. No matter how rich he was. No matter how powerful. Unlike catholic guilt which could be set aside and reasoned that some of the rules are outdated in terms of queerness and the judgement of God. Racism was a constant reminder. It could not be set aside. It could never be left alone. It was a constant wound of Louis knowing even if he was stronger than the racist he killed, even in their death they saw him as nothing.

It also feeds the Catholic Self-hatred he because God deems black people not good enough to save. Those are thoughts that a black person has, not all but enough to take note.

And that's why I think Lestat and the fandom really do not understand Louis as ALL. Because they treat the racism Louis faces and its challenges it brings to his life as if it's an inconvenience and not as if it didn't and doesn't completely shape him as a person.

It's like they missed the monologue of Louis killing the important council man as Lestat says near his business. That black man had another organ that no other man had that made to survive the constant emotional, psychological strain of living in that era.

It's the same organ that keeps him from inflicting similar hurt to others and keeps him from enjoying to kill.

Then again you could argue that Claudia was not the same. She's also black so why didn't she actually like Louis?

Simple answer: not all black people are the same.

There are different ways black people face Racism and oppression. Different emotions take reign. Claudia was the kind of person who would take power in her hands and concentrate on keeping it so that she never ever have to face not having it again. No matter how many people get hurt. Because that is how the world treated her so why could not have the courtesy of giving back what she was given.

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 23 — Pensieve.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Tom Riddle; heavy mention of the Black family in general.

Additional Tags: reality tv show au; the Black have a reality tv show; press; media article; implied prongsfoot in the article; implied James/Lily/Sirius/Remus in the fic; it is very much a thing in this au tbh; a bit of domesticity.

Summary: Sirius Black Returns: A Black Lives Exclusive!

Words count: 691.

A/N: Heya! I got the idea of this au some time ago and decided to have a bit of fun here eheh. I hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

SIRIUS BLACK RETURNS: A BLACK LIVES EXCLUSIVE!

Black Lives, the most watched reality TV show first in the UK, then in the world, from Pensieve Production, is well-known, and so is the family the show follows. The Blacks, from the late English nobility, started this project almost fifteen years ago, and it had since been going strong. The shows followed closely Walburga and Orion Black (or as many call them, THE power couple), beloved Alphard Black, Cygnus and Druella Black, as well as frequent apparition from Lucrecia née Black now Prewett and her husband Ignatius. Other usuals guest stars were Arcturus Black, the family patriarch, and the five family children: Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus, whom the show started centering itself on.

Andromeda created the scandal nine years ago when, then aged eighteen, she renounced her family to marry a commoner. (Since then, she gave birth to an adorable daughter!) Four years later — and thus five years from now — the heir of the family himself, Sirius Black, stopped appearing on the show. The family at the time told us the sixteen years-old wanted to focus on both his studies and mental health and as such, was taking a much-needed break. Of course, multiple theories spawned following this statement — but need for it no more!

Just this morning, Pensieve Production announced Sirius Black’s return in an upcoming, special, exclusive season!

“It is with great joy that we are welcoming Sirius back with us,” states Tom Riddle, the Blacks’ manager. “We missed him during those years, but we know how important it was for him. And now, he will, if he wishes so, tell you more about it himself!”

We got more details about this exclusive season as well:

“We will follow Sirius and his brother Regulus on a vacation across the Mediterranean,” announced Riddle — to the glee of quite a lot of us, I would assume! “They will be joined by a few friends, some of which are quite familiar to our long-time viewers.”

Some of those friends are already confirmed. As such, we will greet James Potter (Sirius Black’s long-term best friend, and maybe more), as well as Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and a young lady somes could have forgotten but who appeared a few times in Sirius' last season on the show, Mary Macdonald.

Riddle teased—

“What are you reading?”

Remus startles, his phone almost falling out of his hands; Sirius, thankfully, catches it. Not thankfully, he starts reading the article — and groans rather unnecessarily, if anyone asks Remus.

“How many times did I tell you not to read those?”

“It was in my recommendations?” he tries innocently.

Sirius sends him an unimpressed look.

“James!” he hollers, and then waits; from somewhere on the ground floor of their house, James hollers right back.

“Yes?”

“We need to keep Remus away from Internet!”

“Hey!” he protests, but Sirius just drops a kiss into his hair with a smirk and no answer.

“Okay!” unhelpfully agrees James; it would be it if Lily hadn’t appeared in the doorway, then, a pile of her favorite fluffy towels in her arms.

“What for?”

Sirius waves Remus's phone as if its answer enough. Lily reaches for it, checks the screen, and sighs.

“Oh, Remus,” she says with a soft, concerned tone he hates having directed at him.

“I just wanted to read a few comments,” he mutters.

“It’s my first time and even I know it’s a bad idea,” she notes, handing the phone back to Sirius. They exchange a look, and she nods decidedly before leaving again.

“Easy to say, everyone loves her,” Remus mutters some more. He has grown disaccoutumed of the show and all it entails over the years, perhaps. He’s feeling almost anxious now.

Sirius drops on the bed beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders and embracing him protectively.

“And we love you,” he reminds him softly.

Remus burrows himself against his chest, feeling Sirius’ heartbeat under his ear. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

“Good.” Sirius kisses his hair again, tender and fond, and Remus wants to bottle it and drink it every time he feels down.

[i-appear-misssing]

Ahhhhhh yes, back to my good old ways of drunkenly doing some late night dumb shit for a girl who wants nothing to do with me and then waking up the next day and being too chicken shit to even GLANCE at my messages for the consequences that I brought upon nyself

[bardicious]

Okay, there's actually quite a lot I love about Apocalypse, I rescind my anger on Mystique cause while I find her frustrating, and the under utilization of her power in general this movie, her character progress makes sense. Things I wish the movie did:

Acknowledge Mystique specifically went out looking for her SON, and brought him to Charles knowing he'd be safe there.

Didn't give Erik a wife and child, he really has enough misery in his life, like damn, poor guy. Maybe just show him just starting to accept humanity.

Killing Alex SUCKED. UNNECESSARY.

Letting Peter tell Erik he's his son.

Like I stated in my last post (I know I keep making lists lmaoo), get rid of Moira, she was quite literally there to "no homo" all the intimate events between Erik and Charles. Like, Erik literally turns his back on Apocalypse because of his love for Charles.

Less earthly destruction. This whole "bigger is better" trend in movies is what fucking ruins them. I wish it was more down to earth like the rest of their movies.

Making it obvious that all Apocalypse's henchmen were being strongly influenced by him. To the point I'd say those specific crimes were definitely not their fault. This is the reason he grabs Charles too, complete control over his henchmen, rather than catching them when their emotions are heavily clouding their judgement.

Other than that, chef's fucking kiss, the way Apocalypse looked through Erik's mind, SAW Charles, and called him "the answer". 10/10 CREEP! LOVE IT. Shaw did the fuckin SAME. Love that. God I wish Erik was there to see Charles stop breathing, and PANIC, NOT FREAKING MOIRA. UGHHH.

[bumblingbabooshka]

"Everything you went through was meaningless." [St Voyager S3 E7: 'Sacred Ground']