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idyllwave · 11 days ago

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30 MILLION TO 1

yandere!phainon x fem!reader | part ii. ∄

you promised phainon you could handle things, and he let you go against his better judgement. next time though, he refuses to let you go alone. however, next time may never happen.

word count | ~2k

cw | angst , death , blood, yandere!phainon , low key stalker phainon , 30 million cycles , grammatical errors , etc.

taglist

@hoonobono

Unlike most people, Phainon starts his day a bit differently. The moment he wakes up he is already pulling you close to his chest so he could hug you as tight as he could. His actions always jostle you awake as you yawn and wrap your own arms around his waist and stuff your face into his chest. He knew that if you didn’t hug him back in the morning then something was obviously wrong.

“Morning, Phainon,” you mumbled, your voice being muffled by his chest as he hugged you impossibly closer. He didn’t know why, but he very much enjoyed squeezing you. Now that he thinks about it … he believes Hyacine calls it cuteness aggression.

And like always since you both started living together, you would be up first. Somehow managed to wrestle out of his grip and get out of bed, and he would, of course, be hot on your heels. He honestly couldn’t stand not being close to you and you never said anything about his clinginess. In fact, you enabled him more often than not.

“What do you have planned for today?”

That was another thing. After he gets done training and makes some random excuse to the other Chrysos Heirs, he would quickly find himself tailing you throughout the day. His eyes soaking up any detail that he has failed to notice before while also hoping you would slip about something you’ve been keeping secret (like where you really come from). But he couldn’t say that to you, he didn’t want to see you react negatively towards anything he does. Which is why he hides the fact that he threatens any man or woman who comes your way, why he hides his tailing habits, why he hides how he is utterly obsessed with everything about you.

“Just some training,” he said simply as he started to brush his teeth right next to you in front of the mirror, his elbow sometimes knocking into yours.

You hummed as you spit out your toothpaste, “well, I have my own business to attend to today.”

He spit out his own toothpaste, “like what?”

You turned on the sink and cleaned off any toothpaste residue from your mouth before gently doing the same for Phainon which he happily leaned into your touch for.

“Professor Anaxagoras has some info for me that I had asked him about awhile ago, and asked me to meet him this afternoon.”

Phainon huffed, “I should-“

“Stay here just in case an emergency pops up,” you finished.

“But what if you run into some trouble?”

“I can assure you that I am a capable fighter Phainon.”

He gave you that look that screamed ‘I’m not too sure about that’ as you lightly pushed him with a roll of your eyes, “you were too much Phainon, I swear that I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Against his better judgement, he did let you go alone. And later on through the day, he did get busy, so he didn’t even get the chance to see you off. Much to his dismay.

Meanwhile, when you had finally reached the Grove in the afternoon, Anaxa was already waiting for you. His eye already picking you out as he gestured for you to follow him.

“Leaving Amphoreus isn’t possible right now.”

You didn’t even have to ask as he already decided to hit you hard with the truth.

“I understand… so I’m stuck here.”

Anaxa looked at you as you closed the door to his office, and leaned against it as you hung your head – he never seen you look so defeated.

“Have you told Phainon?”

You shook your head, “no… I haven’t. I thought that if we could find a way to break through this place, then I could call for help, and then tell him everything, and maybe… ask him to come with me. However, it seems I will need to find a way out of this place before I tell him everything.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to tell the truth now?”

“He has the prophecy to worry about,” you said after a moment, “I don’t want to burden him with my own problems.”

“Then why bother getting close to him?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but ended up closing it. Why? You know you aren’t apart of this world, but you ended up getting close to Phainon anyway. It wasn’t like you planned to get trapped here and fall in love with him. In fact, this place wasn’t even where you were planning to go because someone or something pulled you here. Not to mention that Phainon didn’t make it easy. He was definitely persistent.

“Because I fell in love with him.”

“Foolish,” Anaxa muttered, “utterly foolish.”

You smiled a bit sheepishly. Anaxa reminded you a lot of Dr. Ratio, but luckily Anaxa was a bit more tolerable. (Especially when you were wrong about something he didn’t throw chalk at your head…)

“Anyway, Professor-“

You jumped as there was a knock on the door. And panicked voices were yelling from the outside.

You were quick to open it as a few people bursted in causing Anaxa to step forward as well, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s the black tide! It’s here!”

“Already,” you asked, “without any warning?”

You heard about the black tide, had your reservations about it, but decided to leave the problem to the chyrsos heirs while also offering your help here and there. You didn’t think that this would happen.

“We need to evacuate,” Anaxa said, “where-“

One of the students clutched her hands to her chest, “this is everyone, Professor. The others-,” she cut herself off with a choked sob. So another student spoke up, “the escape routes were blocked off. We’re basically stuck here!”

“Why weren’t the alarms set off?”

“Someone disabled them.”

You huffed, not really understanding why everything was falling apart so quickly, but it was fine. If this was all that was left, then you would just blaze a path for the survivors. As a nameless. It was your job to trailblaze a new path.

Phainon was the first to get the emergency. His footfalls were light even as he raced through Okhema. The other Chyrsos Heirs could only try to keep up, even Mydei couldn’t catch up to the Deliverer because the moment that it was said that the Grove was attacked he was already gone. And the sight that was left for him was –

His feet felt like lead as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. His eyes refusing to look down at the bodies he had to step over or move around.

“Phainon-“

He didn’t wait to listen to what his fellow Chyrsos Heirs had to say, and he didn’t want to ask Castorice if she could sense your soul. He had to find you for himself. Wherever you are.

Like a mantra, he chanted inside his head that you were fine. Probably fighting off the last remaining enemies.

And you were, you had been at least… but a sword had plunged into the upper left side of your chest, the jagged blade splitting your heart in two. Your weapon dropped to the floor as you raised your hands to grip the blade. Your eyes staring up at a figure dressed in black, his face masked behind metal plating.

“Not part of the cycle.”

In broken words, the masked figure spoke to you, his sword plunging in just a bit deeper as the students behind you huddled close together while also protecting a knocked out Anaxa.

“Cycle? What cycle?”

You coughed as blood dribbled from your mouth and seeped from your wound. Your vision was already darkening and your body started to feel cold where the wound was as a numbness started to form around your toes and fingertips which wanted to seep and spread into your very limbs. The cloaked figure raised it’s other hand, grabbed your neck for stability, before pulling the blade from your chest and dropping you to the floor.

“Core .. not here.”

You couldn’t manage to say anything as you lied there. You could feel everything going dark as you closed your eyes.

Is this where the trailblaze ends for you?

By the time Phainon and the others make it to where the survivors were, the cloaked figure was already gone. And even as the survivors cheered for their arrival, Phainon was only focused on you and your still body being cradled in one of the girl’s arms. His steps were slow as he walked over and knelt in front of the student who was holding you.

“What happened,” he managed to ask, his hand shakily reached out to touch your face, but you were already so cold. He moved his fingers to your neck. No pulse.

“A cloaked figure attacked us, but she stood in his way. They fought for a long time before that monster got the upper hand and stabbed her through the chest… We- we think she would have won if she didn’t get injured by protecting us from the black tide.”

He hated hearing the words “would have won” because that means these students were in the way of her victory. If she didn’t protect these selfish, ignorant, undeserving people then she would still be alive. Though, he also has the cloaked figure to blame as well… like a nightmare that monster seems to fester.

“Deliverer. You’re scaring them.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and noticed that he had ripped your body from the girl’s grasp and pulled you close to his chest. And the look on his face… just looking at the students he could tell that he had struck fear into them. And truthfully, he didn’t care.

He stood up and picked up your body as well. One arm was hooked under your knees while the other supported your back so that your head was resting against his chest.

“Good.”

After your death, the cycle continued as it always had and ended just like before with him resetting and starting the cycle anew.

When he walked through Okhema’s gates for the first time, he had immediately set out to find you. Though, throughout the years that he had lived there, day in and day out, you were never in sight. Even when he had become a Chyrsos Heir you had made no appearance. Before too long, he had went through one hundred different cycles but you hadn’t appeared again.

It was like you had never existed in the first place.

Meanwhile, you were resting a palm over your chest as you sat in the Astral Express infirmary. Your memories on what had happened being lost on your as Himeko told you that they found floating around in space with a massive wound in your chest. And you couldn’t even tell them nor remember how you got there. The last thing you remember was leaving to check a stellaron reading.

“Mannn, well, I guess it’s better than losing all my memories.”

“No kidding,” March said as she, Dan Heng, Welt, and a person you never met before entered the room.

And you learned that this person was named Stelle. A new member of the Astral Express. Also a person who currently housed a stellaron in their body…

“I feel like I missed so much.”

“You did. Thankfully, since we’re going to Penacony next, you can finally have some time to rest and relax.”

That was another thing you learned, you have been missing for about one to two years now. But that was alright, you were sure that you would get back into the swing of things eventually. And hey, maybe they were right. Penacony, as you had heard, was a lot like a fancy resort of some kind. So some fun and relaxation was definitely what you needed.

#hsr #honkai star rail #yandere phainon #yandere phainon x you #yandere phainon x reader #yandere phainon x y/n #phainon #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon x you #phainon x reader #phainon x y/n

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moody-alcoholic · 7 months ago

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On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 1 - Innocence

My weekly helping of hurt with no comfort. Enjoy. CW: dead dove don't eat, torture, suicidal thoughts. poly 141 x reader who is accused of being a traitor... you know the drill.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

It hurts. There’s two types of pain.

The physical pain, the sting of your lungs as a cloth is placed over your mouth and water is poured over your face.

The burn as your lungs beg for a beak in the relentless cycle. If you could speak you would beg them to stop.

They won't listen, you know that. Maybe that makes it worse.

Maybe that makes it harder to understand why they would do this to you.

‘What’s your connection to Makarov?’ It's John. He always asks the questions. Gesturing at Simon to give you a break so you can answer.

That's the second type of pain. You’re innocent, they don't know that. Right now you’re guilty in their eyes. The mental torture-your friends, your lovers, whatever you want to call them- they’re hurting you. And they’re not going to stop until they’re satisfied.

That's never going to happen because they don't know yet.

They don't know you’re innocent.

‘I have no connection to Makarov,’ you say between breaths.

They don't know you’re innocent.

You can't blame them, they’re doing their job. For queen and country.

The rag is pressed back over your nose and mouth and more water is poured over it.

You can't breathe, they won’t let you.

Simon…

Simon who has held you in his arms letting you pour your heart out to him is there, his hands around your face making sure you suffer.

Making sure you live.

Suffering is not enough, you need to live.

They need you to live…

Kyle watches from the window. He refused to participate. He got a bollocking from Price. This is messy work.

They keep you updated on Johnny's condition. Almost like that's supposed to change your mind.

‘He’s in a coma, fighting for his life because of you!’ John snaps.

Nothing you say can change their mind. No amount of begging or pleading.

You tried to keep it together. You didn't last long. John and Simon know what they’re doing.

The rag is removed from your face again.

‘How did Makarov know about the raid?’ John's voice is harsh, angry, loud and commanding.

‘I don't know.’ you say. It's the truth, it's not you. You would never hurt them.

They don't believe you.

Why should they believe you?

You don’t know what evidence they have against you. Not that they would tell you, they’re keeping that information close to their chest.

They want to break you first.

You don’t stand a chance.

You don’t know how many days it’s been. Maybe that’s the worst. Physiological torture, is sometimes more effective then physical torture. They keep going for what feels like hours, until you’re vomiting back up the water that escaped down your throat.

That’s when they stop, leaving the room in silence, your stomach raw, your body shivering. At least you’re alone now. That’s when you cry, pray, whatever you want. You get a few hours of loneliness before they start again.

How could they do this, the people you love?

Then you remember the shot ripping through Johnny’s chest. The screaming, the blood. The crack of his ribs under your hands as you pumped on his chest trying to keep him alive.

Then the confusion. The data, the plans, Makarov knew everything, and according to all the evidence that was your fault.

No, you know how they could do this. Because in their eyes you’re a traitor. In their eyes you might as well have shot Johnny yourself.

Maybe that would have been better, then at least they would have given you a quick death.

next Hey, I kind of hate this trope but I do love writing it! IMO 141 would never just jump straight to torture of someone they loved without irrefutable evidence... Its fantasy though and that's what I love about fanfics! Banners by firefly-graphics

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #dead dove do not eat #tf 141 #fanfic #task force 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

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Terrified to Lose You Two

Summary: Jake is gone. And you don't know when or if he's coming back. Left to navigate the aftermath of that night on your own, you try to convince yourself it was nothing. But when weeks turn into months, and an unexpected scare leaves you spiraling, it becomes impossible to ignore just how much his absence weighs on you.

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scare. Also just a lot of angst and worrying. Maybe mutual idiots with feelings?

Word Count: 3,551

Author’s Note: This took WAY longer than I planned it to. But honestly I hadn't originally planned on this to have a Part 2 but since there was interest decided to see what I could come up with. I know the ending is kind of open ended. I'm not sure i I want to have a Part 3 or not. So I tried to leave it so that this could be the end or there could be more. I hope you all enjoy it and that it ends up being worth the wait. xx

You don’t know how long it’s been exactly. Days blur together when there’s no news. No updates. No messages.

Just an empty space where Jake should be.

You wake up in the middle of the night, stomach twisted in knots, reaching for your phone before you remember he’s not going to text you.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And that thought is a black hole, threatening to swallow you whole.

So you keep yourself busy. Work. Exercise. Anything to outrun the restless energy clawing at your ribs.

But your body feels…off. It’s subtle at first. A gnawing exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. A vague nausea that lingers in the back of your throat, never quite enough to make you sick, just enough to make food unappealing.

You brush it off as stress. The lack of sleep. The sheer weight of waiting for Jake to come back. Or even just to hear news that he and the others are okay.

Then you check the date.

Your heart stops.

No. You count again.

No. Your stomach lurches as you double check your calendar, fingers tightening around your phone as if that might somehow change the numbers.

Late. You’re late.

And suddenly, the exhaustion, the nausea, the hollow ache in your chest…it all feels suffocating.

No. No, it’s stress. It has to be stress.

You can’t be. That doesn’t make sense. You’re on the pill. You never miss a dose. You’ve taken it every day at the same time like clockwork.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

You take a slow breath, pressing your fingertips against your temples. Stress messes with your cycle. That’s all this is. The waiting, the worrying, the exhaustion, it's all too much, and your body is just reacting to it.

You try to shake it off. You try to be rational.

But then the symptoms start feeling more real.

A wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere while you’re brushing your teeth. You gag, barely managing to stop yourself from getting sick. Later, in the shower, the steam makes your head swim. The next thing you know, you're gripping the tile wall, knees nearly buckling, blinking against the sudden dizziness.

Your heart pounds. You breathe through it, shaking your head. It's fine. You just stood up too fast. You didn’t eat enough today. Except you did eat. You had half a sandwich, a protein bar, and a coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Wasn’t it?

The doubt creeps back in. By the time dinner rolls around, even the thought of food makes your stomach turn. You stare at your favorite takeout sitting on the counter, appetite gone, throat tight.

Panic wraps around your ribs.

No. No, this isn’t happening.

You can’t tell Jake because he’s not here.

You can’t tell anyone else because they’re all gone too.

You're alone.

So what do you do?

You do the worst possible thing. You start Googling.

And suddenly, every symptom lines up perfectly. Fatigue. Nausea. Dizziness. Loss of appetite.

Sitting on the bathroom floor phone gripped tight in your hands, you stare at the search results until the words blur together.

The answer is simple. You need to take a pregnancy test.

But you don’t move. You don’t get up. You just sit there, legs curled up to your chest, heart hammering in your ears.

What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What if—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re overreacting. You tell yourself to wait it out.

But no matter how many times you try to push it away, the what if won’t leave you alone.

And deep down, you already know you won’t be able to breathe until you know for sure.

So you make the appointment. And then you drive yourself there. Alone.

The waiting room is small, sterile, and too quiet. You sit stiffly in one of the plastic chairs, phone gripped tight in your hands. You refresh your notifications. Again. Again. Hoping for an update.

Nothing.

You swallow hard, tapping your foot against the floor. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy, and for a second, you consider just walking out.

Maybe it really is just stress.

But before you can make up your mind, a nurse calls your name.

You force yourself to stand, legs unsteady as you follow her back. The blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, the pulse oximeter clips onto your finger, and you try not to wince when she frowns at the numbers.

“Heart rate’s a little high,” she notes.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s probably just—” You hesitate, glancing away. “I’ve been anxious.”

She nods, scribbles something on the chart. “What brings you in today?”

You exhale slowly. “I haven’t been feeling great. Lightheaded. Nauseous. My appetite is weird. And, um… I’ve been having some stomach pain.”

The nurse hums, nodding along, but then her next question knocks the air from your lungs.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. You’re on birth control. You’re careful. This shouldn’t even be a question.

But you’re late. And you do feel off. And there’s that sliver of doubt you haven’t been able to shake.

So instead, you hesitate.

“Maybe.” Your voice is small, unsteady.

She nods again, like she hears that answer all the time, and scribbles another note before setting the clipboard aside.

“We’ll do a test,” she says gently. “Just to be sure.”

And then you’re left alone in the exam room, staring at the speckled tile floor, hands twisted in your lap, heart hammering against your ribs.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’ll handle it, whatever it turns out to be. But no matter how many times you try to convince yourself, your hands are still shaking as you wait for the results.

Alone.

The knock on the door is soft, but it makes you jump.

The nurse steps back inside, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Your test was negative.”

You exhale. Your shoulders dropping, lungs finally expanding. But it’s not a relief. Not really.

Because nothing has changed. Jake is still gone. You’re still waiting. You’re still alone in this.

Your fingers curl against the paper lining of the exam table, the crinkle loud in the silent room. You should feel better. This should ease something. But all it does is leave a hollow ache in your chest.

Because the fear is still there. The uncertainty. The realization that for one brief, terrifying moment, you’d considered what this could have meant.

You press your lips together, nodding vaguely as the nurse talks. She is going on about something. You think she might be recommending rest and hydration. And there’s something about stress management.

You barely hear her.

Because all you can think about is Jake.

How much you miss him. How much you need him to come home. And how utterly terrified you are that he won’t.

By the time you’re walking out of Urgent Care, stepping into the cool night air, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

You don’t want to be alone in this anymore.

But for now?

You have no choice.

* * * * *

It happens when you’re least expecting it.

You’re at The Hard Deck, nursing a drink that you don’t really want, when Nat slides onto the stool next to you. She greets you casually, like she always does, but something in her expression shifts when she gets a good look at you.

"You look like hell," she says.

You huff a laugh. "Feel like it too."

She leans in slightly, voice lower. "Jake’s back."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the ribs. You blink. Swallow.

“What?”

“Got back a few days ago.”

She says it so easily, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the most important thing you’ve heard in weeks.

Your fingers tighten around your glass. A few days. Jake’s been here. Alive. Breathing. Walking around San Diego like everything is normal. And he didn’t tell you.

The realization stings. You force yourself to breathe through it, to keep your face neutral as you take a sip of your drink. “Good for him.”

Nat studies you, like she can hear all the things you don’t say.

If it meant anything to him. If that night, the things unsaid, the way you held onto him meant something, wouldn’t he have reached out?

Wouldn’t he have wanted to see you?

You tell yourself you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter.

But deep down, it does.

Because while he’s been fine walking around, acting like it was just another mission, just another day, you’ve been going through hell.

And now? You don’t know what to do with that.

So you don’t tell him right away. Not about Urgent Care. Not about the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, sick with worry.

But the moment you see him later that night? All of it comes rushing back.

The moment you spot him across the bar, your heart slams against your ribs.

Jake looks exactly the same. Same cocky smile. Same easy confidence. Same damn twinkle in his eye as he laughs at something Coyote says, a beer dangling from his fingers like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like he didn’t just vanish for three months. Like you didn’t spend sleepless nights wondering if he’d ever make it home. Like that night…the way you curled into him, the way you needed him meant absolutely nothing.

You wait. Wait for him to look over. To acknowledge you. To do something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even glance your way.

Your stomach twists, but you shove the feeling down. Maybe this is your answer. Maybe you were the only one who spent the last three months thinking about that night.

Maybe it was nothing to him.

If he’s going to act like this never meant anything, like you’re just another face in the crowd then fine.

You can act like that, too.

You tell yourself you won’t look again, but your gaze betrays you. Every few minutes, your eyes flick to where he stands. And every damn time, you catch him already looking.

A half second too long. Just enough to make your pulse stutter.

But neither of you move. Neither of you say a word.

Hours pass like this stolen glances, fleeting eye contact, both of you waiting for the other to be the first to break.

"You know he asked about you, right?" Natasha says, nudging your arm as she slides into the seat beside you.

You blink. “What?”

“While we were deployed,” Bradley adds from across the table. “Not all the time, but enough.” He shrugs. “It meant something to him. That night you went home with him.”

Your chest tightens, but you shake your head. “If it meant something, he would’ve reached out.”

Bradley gives you a look. “He just got back.”

“It’s been three days,” you counter.

“Maybe he thought you would reach out,” Natasha offers.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “Well, then I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

They exchange a glance, and then Bradley huffs, shaking his head. “Fine. Be stubborn. But you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

Natasha smirks, tipping her glass toward Jake’s direction. “And for the record? He hasn’t stopped looking at you all night.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You won’t be the first to move. You won’t. The ball is in his court. It’s his move.

But somewhere between your resolve and your next drink, you realize that if you don’t talk to him tonight you’ll regret it.

So you stand and start making your way over to him before you can overthink it or talk yourself out of it.

Jake spots you coming the second you stan. By the time you come to a stop in front of him he’s already turned towards you, his beer poised halfway to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he exhales. “Wanna step outside?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Yeah.”

The night air is cooler than you expect, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. The sounds of the bar fade slightly as you both step onto the patio, stopping near the railing.

Jake leans against it, looking over at you. “How’ve you been?”

You don’t answer. You just wrap your arms around yourself, and that—more than words—tells him everything he needs to know.

His jaw tightens. He looks away for a beat, then nods, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence stretches between you.

Jake shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, quietly he says,“I would’ve called. Sooner, I mean. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I spent the last three months thinking about that night. Wondering if you would come back home.”

“Were you really that worried about me?”

You let out a small humorless laugh. Then before you can second guess it and change your mind you just say it. “I was late.”

Jake turns fully toward you now, his brows drawing together. “Late? Like…”

Your throat feels tight, but you push through. “Yeah. And you…you weren’t here…none of you were.”

Your eyes are locked on the wooden planks of the patio below you. But you still hear the audible inhale of air that Jake takes.

He clears his throat before he says anything. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “So are you…”

You shake your head. “No.”

Jake exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Shit.”

Neither of you speak for a few minutes. Then he shifts closer to you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the warmth of him brushes against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You glance away from him, your eyes look out past the sand at the water and the horizon as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon.

You take a deep breath and then look over at Jake. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you let him in. You let him see the fear, the uncertainty, the weight and pressure that you’ve been carrying around for the last three months.

“I guess I didn’t know what you’d say,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake goes silent again. And you feel the way the air shifts between you, the way his eyes stay locked on yours but his mouth doesn’t move. Your stomach twists. Your hands start to shake. And suddenly it’s too much.

The weight of the last three months. The waiting. The worrying. The wondering if you’d ever see him again.

You feel your chest tighten. You need to get out of here. Before he can see the way your breathing picks up, before he can see you break, you take a step back. Then another.

Jake doesn’t move.

You turn to go but before you can take another step, his hand closes gently around your wrist.

“Wait.”

His voice is quiet but firm. Steady.

You freeze.

“Just…wait.”

His grip is light, barely holding onto you, like he’s afraid if he pulls too hard, you’ll slip right through his fingers.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. “Jake, I can’t—”

“Please.”

That single word makes you stop. There’s something there in his voice…something raw.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turn back around.

Jake watches you, jaw tight, something heavy in his gaze. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I didn’t know,” he says finally, voice rough. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. “I know.”

He nods, but his brows furrow, like that’s not enough. Like he needs you to really believe it.

His thumb brushes over your wrist absently, a slow, grounding motion. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with…that.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.Because part of you believes him. And part of you doesn’t know what to do with that.

Jake takes a breath. “Come sit with me?”

Your instinct is to say no. To run. To protect yourself before he can hurt you again. But when you meet his eyes, all you see is sincerity.And maybe you’re too tired to fight him anymore.

So you nod.

Jake leads you to one of the patio benches, waiting until you sit before he lowers himself beside you.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The sounds of the bar filter through the open doors, but out here it feels quieter.

“I should’ve called you when I got back,” he admits, voice low.

You blink at him. “You think?”

Jake exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “I thought about you. More than I probably should’ve.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nat and Rooster were ready to throttle me with how much I talked about you.”

Your heart stutters. “Then why didn’t you—”

“Because I was scared,” he cuts in, meeting your gaze. “Scared I’d come back and you’d tell me that night didn’t mean anything. That I didn’t mean anything.”

Your lips part, stunned into silence.

Jake laughs softly, shaking his head. “Turns out, I’m an idiot.”

You watch him, the raw honesty in his expression, the vulnerability he rarely lets show.

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to ask the question that’s been haunting you since the morning after you last saw him.

“That night…” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, barely audible over the distant hum of the bar. “Did it mean anything? To you?”

Jake’s eyes snap to yours, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s weighing his answer.

“Yeah.” Jake exhales, running a hand through his hair before settling his gaze back on you. “It meant too much.”

Your breath catches. “Jake—”

“I thought about it,” he continues, voice steady but raw. “More times than I should admit. But I convinced myself it was better to leave it alone. That if I reached out, you’d tell me it was a mistake.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Hell, I figured you probably regretted it the second it happened.”

You shake your head instantly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I didn’t.”

You swallow hard, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I never regretted it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settles between you, thick and weighted.

Jake watches you like he’s searching for something—like he’s waiting for permission to believe you. Then, slowly, he leans in, elbows on his knees, voice quieter now.

"So where does that leave us?"

You don’t know.

All you know is that after months of silence, of doubt, of wondering—Jake is here. Right in front of you.

And maybe that’s enough.

#Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x You #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader #Jake Hangman Seresin x You

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trypo-p · 7 months ago

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TF2 ISSUE 7 SPOILERS //

Alright alright I know everyones going crazy over the ending of the comic (I am too) but I don't see this moment talked about enough and how beautifully done it is.

We start with the Administrator: The man who took everything from her is finally dead. She reigns victory. She is now living alone in peace, leaving flowers for each and every gravestone that was left before Zepheniah Mann's passing. The gravestones left before him are carved out beautifully, time and effort put into each and every one of them. The Administrator even lays out the roses so they look like they're grown out around the gravestones.

And here we have Zepheniah Mann's grave. A slab of rock with only his initials carved into it. The other gravestones are large, extravagant, and have their full names carved into them. Zepheniah's remains small; little thought put into it.

The gravestone wasn't even for him in the first place. It was for whichever of his son's died first, whichever one failed him. He himself didn't put much care into the gravestone, so why should he deserve anything better? In the end, he was treated the way he treated others. He was the failed son.

The Administrator leaves the stems of the roses out for him. She just places them there, no thought put into it seemingly. But there is SO much thought in this very moment. She had everything planned out from the very beginning.

Every day, she watched as the man grew older and older. She was there for his passing, and as far as we can tell, she caused his death. She leaves out roses for each and every grave, except for his. She leaves the stems. To her, he doesn't deserve the flower, he deserves the thorns. They aren't placed with care like the other flowers had been, they are simply put down. She gives him exactly what he deserves.

The atmosphere has suddenly lost that beautiful lighting and vibrant colours, the sky has become more gray and dreary. The Administrator is waking up more devastated, putting less time and effort into her daily life. The stems are turning brown, wilting under her eyes. She cares less. She seems relatively unaffected by the things around her. She gets stung by a bee, but doesn't seem to care. However that last panel says everything. She's growing tired of doing the same thing day in and day out. The cycle of depression is a tiring one. Soon enough you realize: is it even worth it? After all of this, after I finally got the one thing I wanted. But what now?

The scene is now almost completely devoid of colour. The weather is gloomy, and the Administrator looks like she has been bedridden for a while. She has taken the gravestone into her bedroom, now having to wake up to the reminder that he's dead and gone, she got what she wanted. But at what cost? There's nothing left to do anymore. She set herself out for one goal and one goal only her entire life. What was the point anymore?

There's so much to unpack in these panels, I doubt I've even scraped the surface of this. She's lost all emotion, the next few panels showing that she doesn't believe there's a point in living anymore. It's a terrifying thought, setting your entire life up to do one specific thing, getting that thing done, and then having nothing else left to live for. It's such a well-done portrayal of how depression can destroy you from the inside out.

Revenge is sweet, but it has a bitter aftertaste.

#trypo.txt #trypo-p #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 comics #tf2 7th comic #tf2 comic 7 #tf2 administrator #cw sui mention #comic analysis #character analysis #zepheniah mann #tf2 spoilers

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yazmarina · 11 months ago

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close to you

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight, just let me be" (close to you by gracie abrams)

oscar piastri (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: smut, protected sex, cunnilingus, first date, basically you match with oscar on a dating app lol

a/n: what a weekend guys. have this as the cherry on top <3

You never really expected anything much to come out of it.

You swiped right on the app, highly suspicious if this was really even him, but for the plot (as the kids say), you wanted to try anyway.

The screen graphics confirmed that it was a match and you felt your blood run cold.

Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver, had matched with you on a dating app.

You locked your phone and paced about the room for a solid five minutes, refusing to pick your device back up. You yelped as you saw the screen light up. You shoved it under your pillow, rushing out of the room and pacing even more, but this time, around your living room.

It took another ten minutes for you to gingerly return to your room, your trembling hand flipping your phone upright to expose your notifications.

Oscar: Hey :)

You nearly dashed out onto your balcony and leaped off the edge right then. With bated breath, you tapped on the notification, thoughts cycling seemingly a million miles a second.

You: Hi! Fancy seeing you here haha

You groaned immediately after sending the message, cringing at the utter lack of eloquence.

A sob nearly escapes your lips when you see his reply.

Oscar: Don't tell on me, then ;) I take it you're a fan?

"You have no idea, Oscar Piastri," you whispered to yourself as you tried to maintain a semblance of composure in your following messages.

You really should have practiced restraint, a cautious approach to this whole situation. What if it was some sort of poser? What if whichever dickhead pretending to be Oscar posts your responses online to dunk on you? Your face was exposed, goddammit.

But after two hours of messaging and a selfie sent from his side to prove that, yes, he really was Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri, the two of you agreed to meet the next day.

You're still not fully convinced at that point but you decided to go with it. You sent a vague yet urgent message to your friend who lives nearby, in case you need an escape plan.

You covered all your bases, said all your prayers, and plucked every stray eyebrow into perfection.

Your heart nearly gives out now as you look up to see Oscar approaching your table, the sun gleaming down, casting a glow on his wavy brown hair. You're seated just outside the restaurant doors, the breeze gently displacing some of your own hair.

A nervous giggle escapes you as you tuck your hair back in place. Oscar beams and pulls the chair out in front of you.

"Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting."

You shake your head almost instantly. "No, it's okay. I wasn't here for long."

Oscar smiles even wider and you clamp your hands together under the table to stop them from shaking.

"It's nice to meet you," Oscar says, reaching his hand out. You chuckle at the formality but grasp his hand in yours nonetheless.

"Same here. Though, I'm a little nervous," you reply.

"Though, I hope you aren't super weirded out about going on a date with a fan," you rush out. "I just really enjoy the sport and I think you're a great driver."

You see a hint of pink dusting Oscar's cheeks. Your own face heats up at the realization.

"It's fine," Oscar consoles. "Thanks, by the way. I mean, you're gorgeous, so you're not the only one in awe here."

Oscar's eyes widen as he realizes the words that had come tumbling out of his mouth. Your own jaw slackens and another nervous laugh rises from your chest.

"Thank you," you manage to splutter out. "I-I don't know what else to say to that without sounding like some lovesick fan."

Oscar bursts out laughing, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You realize that every inch of skin above his shirt collar is tinged with red.

"I think that's our signal to order," Oscar offers, flipping through the menu in front of him.

You nod silently, doing the same.

The text you send to your friend after your lunch with Oscar is just as vague, if not a little more.

You tell them that your date went well and that you'll be moving to another place. You don't exactly clarify what this other place is, but with the way your friend tells you to be safe and call immediately if anything goes wrong, you know that they're aware of where this is going.

You lean back, comfortable in the passenger seat of Oscar's car. You set your phone down, sneaking a peek at the man beside you, and for a split second your eyes meet.

"You good?" Oscar asks, his eyes trained back on the road. There's an easy smile playing on his lips and you can still see pink on his cheeks.

"Yeah," you say, digging through your purse and retrieving some breath mints. You pop two in your mouth and you offer Oscar the container.

You smile knowingly as Oscar glances at your outstretched hand, his smile widening into a bashful grin.

"Want some?" you offer, toying with the candy in your mouth. Just then, you come upon a stoplight and Oscar turns to you fully.

He holds up his palm and you shake out two more mints onto his awaiting hand. Oscar places them in his mouth, watching as you put the candies away.

"Any particular reason you'd be needing breath mints?" Oscar asks almost playfully.

You snicker. "Not really. Just wanted to get the taste of food out of my mouth."

Oscar hums, eyes trailing down your face. You can see him continue to suck on the mints but he soon loses his patience and bites down, grinding his teeth.

Yours are all dissolved, the fresh sting of spearmint settling on your tongue.

"I don't really do this," Oscar suddenly declares.

You raise both of your eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Take girls home on the first date."

A grin settles on your face as you hear the words. You lean in closer, over the center console, noting the way Oscar inhales as you do so.

"I'm flattered," you admit. Oscar laughs, mirroring your posture, the proximity between you two diminishing.

Oscar kisses you, tenderly at first, his hand automatically coming up to hold you in place. It's easy to forget that it's the middle of the day in sunny Monaco, the tint on his car windows not the ideal shade to necessarily hide what you're doing.

You pull, back glancing at the stoplight just as it turns green.

It takes a honk from the car behind you to get Oscar out of his daze.

Oscar is a gracious host, as you quickly learn. Gracious in a way that his hands immediately cradle you close the second his front door latches shut. His lips are just as welcoming as they trail down your neck, careful and almost nervous. It's also so hospitable how he so eagerly ushers you into his room, settling you down on the sheets as he does all the work for you.

Your clothes are stripped one by one and the familiar anxiety rises back up in your throat. Oscar senses the shift in your mood and pauses just as he's undoing his own pants.

"We don't have to," Oscar offers, taking ahold of one side of your face.

You kick yourself in your mind. This is an opportunity you would never pass up and it's right in the palm of your hand.

You shake your head. "I want to. I really want to. With you."

Oscar grins and practically tackles you down on the bed. It takes some effort but the rest of his clothes finally come off and the two of you lay bare on his bed.

You can feel the desperation in his movements and you reciprocate with as much eagerness. You think for a moment what it could have been in your lunch that caused the both of you to just want to jump in bed together, but you ultimately doubt that the tapas had anything to do with it.

It feels surreal, having Oscar's mouth on your core, and even more unbelievable the way his fingers work as if they already know you, how to please you. You're trembling by the time Oscar comes back up, lips smeared with your arousal.

You blink the tears out of your eyes as you watch Oscar reach over to his nightstand, expertly dispensing a condom, rolling it down on his rock-hard shaft.

You scramble to get him close, not even caring about how quick he plunges inside you, the stretch eliciting a hiss from between your teeth. You relax and Oscar takes this as a sign to start moving.

"Jesus, fuck—" Oscar curses. "You're fucking tight."

You let out a breath, holding Oscar's body close as he fucks you, steady and unrelenting.

You don't particularly care if everything he's said up to this point is a lie. You could be his fifth this week, you could be herded out his apartment the moment he finishes. You really don't mind, not when he feels this good inside you.

"Oscar," you gasp as he starts to pick up his pace. Even that doesn't seem real. The way his name rolls off your tongue registers like a faraway dream to you.

Oscar pulls back to look at you, his hair falling over his eyes. You've gushed about this exact look a few times online. The thought embarrasses you a bit and you can't help the blush that creeps up your neck.

"What?" Oscar asks, the corners of his mouth turning up as he watches you.

You shake your head. "Nothing. Don't look at me like that."

Oscar smirks, pressing his mouth to yours in a heady kiss. Your whines and moans are muffled as Oscar takes you closer and closer to your release. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his supple skin. Your hips start to move along with his, your own orgasm now within reach.

The two of you cum almost simultaneously and Oscar stills inside of you, his mouth hanging open as the euphoria completely washes over him. You're panting, eyes unfocused, even as Oscar pulls out to discard the condom.

Oscar plops back down beside you and you can't help the giggles that erupt as the two of you catch each other's eye.

"That was great," Oscar muses, staring at the ceiling, his hand patting around the bed until it finally finds yours. He slots his fingers between the spaces of your own.

You risk a peek at him and you take it all in. A strange feeling blooms in your chest.

Oscar turns to you and you quickly look away.

"It's kind of cute how you think I don't notice you looking," Oscar says, scooting closer.

You meet his eyes again and the strange feeling only flourishes. Pessimistically, you think of that one quote about never meeting your heroes. You start to think that it might be true.

The illusion is shattered. You've come too close. Icarus reincarnated, the sun staring you right back in the face.

You anticipate the sugarcoated rejection.

"Wanna stay over?"

You blink.

"Stay over?" You repeat rather plainly. Oscar nods.

"Yeah. I'll get us dinner." Oscar tucks your hair behind your ear. "Unless you'd rather I drive you home."

A giddy sort of sensation shoots through your body. You tentatively reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's face.

Maybe you could get just a little closer to the sun.

You peck his lips briefly, smiling as you pull away.

"No. I guess you can have me overnight."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #op81 #oscar piastri x reader

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bygonearchive · 25 days ago

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Self aware anaxa (or any of the amphoreus cast at this point), and how he'd likely have a very different experience becoming aware post 3.2 has been all I can think about recently. This is more of a warm-up/ drabble with the idea before I flesh it out more. Just trying to find a way I feel comfortable writing him at the moment.

Masterlist

He was dead, that much he could be sure of. His plan to fuse his soul with the titan Cerces to become the titan in the next cycle was successful; he had felt his body dissolve and had dropped the core flame into the vortex of Genesis.

So, how was he here?

No matter, as the demised scholar Anaxagoras, time is the only thing preventing him from knowing the truth.

Ultimately, every time he made any progress in finding out what was happening some other odd trait about his current predicament made itself aware. It started small, music playing as he was going about amphoreus, the area around him pausing here and there, barely noticeable.

Then the events started to escalate, he discovered that he couldn't speak to anyone. In fact, whenever he went to try he had the intriguing yet infuriating feeling of being absent from reality for the conversation made itself apparent, the sensation of not being in full control of his body at times eventually growing to all of the time and then there was the fight against Aquila.

That seemed to act as the catalyst for these strange phenomena, as everything intensified afterwards. Shortly after the conclusion of the fight…

He was no longer on Amphoreus.

He didn't have control of his body, fights were taking turns, chests were littered behind puzzles, it was like he was skipping around in time and visiting events and battles that should have long since passed.

It was as if someone was playing a game.

And suddenly that hypothesis made sense. Rooting itself in the professor's mind, all he needed now was proof. Proof that there was a player. Then he could work on a method to make himself real, to gain power over his new reality. This new truth.

Naturally, he met or rather interacted with you, shortly after this revelation. It didn't immediately click that you were the player, the person for whom he was essentially a glorified puppet, but it did in time.

He didn't intend to fall for you.

Of course, he hadn’t yet, no matter how purely logical he tries to be. Well. Don’t romance and reason go hand in hand, he shouldn’t feel ashamed to embrace such feelings.

Try as he might, he couldn’t catch your attention no matter what actions he took. Triggering voice lines where and when he shouldn’t be able to; wrenching control back for the briefest of moments; sneaking extra rewards into your inbox, no jades of course, he couldn’t be too obvious for his safety; and even sending more in game messages than he was scripted with, given half of them are obscured behind anonymous icons. All for nought as you simply dismissed it all as glitches or simply lag from whatever device you were using to run it.

It drove him insane. Bit by bit, denial after denial of his existence, you weren't questioning any of it. But fine. That's fine. He'll just have to work harder.

The actions he takes get more prominent, more daring. It's not a simple matter of clueing you into it anymore, he has to prove his existence to you now. It's not something the professor is entirely used to, usually proving his own theorems to himself, others are rarely worth his time.

One day he decides to clear out the rest of the team you'd assigned him to, hoping that if you logged in to him and only him then something might finally register. It succeeds in a way, gaining him a panicked logout from you when you noticed how every character other than Anaxagoras was knocked out.

Progress.

Small, but there. Tangible, real. He'd make you fall for - see him, in time.

It’s no longer something in short supply now that he'd already fulfilled his position in the plot.

#I have returned to my roots #utterly adore this man though #anaxa x reader #anaxagoras x reader #anaxa x you #anaxagoras x you #self aware au #sentient au #self aware hsr #self aware honkai star rail

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novemberheart · 10 months ago

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{overview} John and you take another leap in your relationship, Kyle makes an unsettling discovery

{warnings} Fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, P in V sex, heat cycles, oral & fingering (fem receiving), loss of virginity, cursing, mirror sex, MDNI

Chapter 21 <- Chapter 22 -> Chapter 23

The next few days had gone by without a hitch. It was nice, being domestic with your pack. You spend most of your days going to museums, restaurants, and outdoor activities that are way above your athletic ability. Still, you would be lying if you said you weren't happier than you have ever been- well at least happier than you've been in a while. You and Simon have gotten much closer. He had been making a real effort with you, not that he hadn't before but there was something different about him. His gestures felt more affectionate than out of duty.

That was until you came down with a fever.

“It’s not saying she has a fever, yet she's burning up,” Kyle huffed, pulling a thermometer out of your mouth. You and John eyed each other.

“This a symptom of your heat?” He questioned. Everyone stiffened.

“Yes. But I usually get them after my heat, not before. Before my heat, I’ll get extra sensitive, and my body will start to feel….less stiff. I'll also get this sort of buzz in my stomach,” you explained.

“And I take it you haven't been feeling any of that?” Simon added. You shook your head.

“You don't smell any different,” Johnny added too.

“Well, this may be the start of it, pretty girl. Let's just keep an eye on it, yeah?” John spoke. Everyone nodded.

“I don't want this to happen on vacation,” you started to whine, you quickly caught yourself, your eyes going wide.

“Sensitive, eh?” John chuckled, placing a kiss against your heated head.

“This is the best place for it to happen,” Kyle assured. “Where you're safe with all of us,” Kyle reminded. You breathed out slowly, nodding your head in agreement.

“You're right,” you affirmed.

“The plan is,” John began and you immediately felt a sudden shift in the air. You wondered how many times they have heard John say that. It had an immediate impact on them, their shoulders straightening, eyes narrowing in focus. How many times had their lives depended on those words? Johnny's crow's feet appeared and you ran your thumb over them breaking him out of his trance. He grinned at you, pressing a kiss against your hand before turning back to John. “Me and her will stay in our room,” he spoke looking at Simon. You held your breath, waiting for him to be mad at you. Instead, he nodded his head seemingly unaffected by the words, besides a light blush across his cheeks. “You’re in charge of food and drinks,” he commanded, looking at Johnny who quickly nodded. You winced. Looks like you'll be eating cereal and granola bars for a week. “You’ll be on puppy duty,” he spoke to Kyle, nodding to the lazy ball of fur at your feet.

“How long do your heats last, Bon?”

“Usually a week,” you responded, causing Simon to chuckle.

“Old mans gonna disloca”-

“Fuck off,” John interjected, his own smirk across his face. “I’m two years older than you you twat,”

“I'll sleep on the pull-out in the living room,” Simon spoke. Being in the betas room felt too close to you. “Don't worry about me barging in or anything, yeah?” he soothed.

You felt horrendous for believing he would be upset at you. You offered him a small smile, nodding your head graciously.

“Alright, that's it,” John finished.

Simon grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool water and plopping it on your forehead.

“Remember when you were doing this to me?” he mused, a small smile on his face. That seemed so long ago. That was your first interaction with him. You remember how scared and unsure of yourself you were. Hell, most of that hadn't changed.

“Simon,” you sobbed, your arms wrapping around his waist, making him chuckle.

“Sensitive, pup,” he teased, patting you on the back. “Should get you to bed. A nap might help,” he spoke, mostly to himself. He hoisted you up carrying you to the bedroom, Johnny following close behind. He tossed you on the bed, Johnny quickly hopping in and getting comfortable with you. You watched with tired eyes as Simon began moving his clothes into the beta’s room. He didn't have too many.

“Simon?” you asked softly.

“Pup?”

“Could I have one of your sweatshirts?” you nearly pleaded. He grabbed one off the hanger, rubbing it against the scent glands on his neck before tossing it to you. You bunched it up, using it as a pillow. Leather with an undertone of black licorice making the back of your neck tingle. “Thank you,” you purred lowly.

Your symptoms had progressed. A familiar lax in your body making it a bit hard to move. You had started nesting, stealing things from every member of your pack to make the bed as comfortable as you could. There were slight changes in your scent making their mouths water. John stayed close, wanting you to ease him into a rut instead of it just hitting him.

“How do you feel, lovie?” Kyle hummed.

“My face is hot but my body is cold,” you whined. “And I'm tired,” you huffed.

“Sleep, princess. You'll be needing it,” John chuckled from next to you. Your head peaked up from the pillows.

“You’re the one who’ll need it,” you shot back, a playful glint in your hazy eyes. John’s brows raised, sitting up on one of his elbows.

“You flirtin’ with me now? I'm the one that's supposed to be courting you,” he reminded, tucking you in.

“I’m waiting,” you smirked, causing Kyle to laugh.

“I'll be back,” John insisted, dodging back down the hall.

“I like this feisty you,” Kyle murmured. You chuckled, inching closer to him. When John returned he had a bowl of cut-up fruit and a few snack packs of your favorite snacks.

“Thank you alpha,” you purred, popping a strawberry in your mouth. John purred back, tucking you back in.

“Let me,” he urged, opening a pack of cookies and hand-feeding you.

“I could get used to this,” you smiled between bites.

He woke up before you with a sharp exhale. Your scent hitting him like a bolt of lightning. You were tucked in his side, your hands gripping onto his damp shirt like it would keep you from floating away. You were whimpering quietly, his body reacting to you before he had even opened both his eyes. You needed him.

“I know, pretty,” he soothed quietly, biting back a snarl. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, slowly detaching himself from you. Your nail caught the fabric of his shirt, the sound of the fabric tearing finally waking you up. You watched with bleary eyes as John made his way to the bathroom, tossing his half ripped shirt on the floor. He splashed cold water on his face, even through your tears you could his body shaking.

He was holding himself back.

You could smell it in the air. His blazing scent overshadowing your melted vanilla. Your scent alone would be too much for him, him projecting being his only defense to keep from sinking his teeth into your neck.

You were uncomfortable. Your body too hot and sweaty to even focus on the ache between your thighs. You sat up sluggishly, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. You pulled yourself to stand, making your way to the bathroom. John quickly turned on the shower meeting you halfway. You rested more than half your weight against him, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as he guided you along.

“May I?” He checked, his fingers curled in the hem of your shirt. You nodded trying your best to hold your arms up to make it easy for him. You already felt a bit cooler as the fabric hit the floor. A pleased rumble echoed in his chest.

“Such a pretty girl I have,” he mumbled more to himself than you. He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down in one motion, his arm resting around your waist to keep you steady. He checked the water temperature, making sure it was cool enough to chill your heated skin but not enough to shock you. “Want me in with you?” he asked softly.

“Please,” you mumbled against his bare chest. He erupted in goosebumps as your hands traveled around his abdomen. He pulled his sweats down, along with his boxers. You swallowed thickly. The sight of him making the sheen of sweat return to your skin. Partly from want- no need, and partly from nerves. He was about half the size of your forearm in length, but the width was really what made you whimper.

“Don’t worry about that right now, pretty,” he soothed, turning you away from him. He apologized as the action caused him to run across your lower back. You shivered, your bottom instinctually arching in the air to meet him. “Good girl,” he praised softly. You were running on instinct, you couldn't help it. Besides, you presented too perfectly for him to not compliment you. He guided you into the shower by your hips.

You purred as the cool water hit your heated skin. He kept his distance, despite the sight before him, his hands keeping a firm grasp on you to keep you steady. You turned under the waterfall, your hands pulling him closer by his arm.

“I want to feel you,” you mumbled. The little self-control he had snapping. He gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up, pressing you against the tile of the shower. Your arms quickly found his neck, your mouths desperately connecting.

“You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he growled back. He was all-consuming. You're hardly able to keep up with his words. His lips leave yours for just a moment to bite at whatever skin he can before returning to them. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against your bottom, the little action having your eyes rolling back.

“Then take me,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His groan was toe curling, his hand reaching below you to switch the water off. He kept you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed. He tossed you down, his hands finding your ankles. You watched, waiting for what his next move would be. You expected him to spread your legs apart, and begin to work himself inside of you, yet all he did was stare. He raised your legs up, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of each foot. He worked his way to your core slowly. A kiss against your ankle, then up your calves, then up your thighs, stopping just before your dripping entrance. His beard felt just how you had imagined it, your hand grabbing his hair and pulling him towards you.

“What, pretty girl? Tell me what you need,” he said softly, his breath against you causing you to jolt.

“You,” you sniffed softly, hoping a small buck of your hips would drive the point home. He rubbed his cheek against the inside of your thigh, pressing a teasing kiss against your heat. He wanted more. You could tell by the way his dark eyes stared at you expectantly.

“I want your mouth, Alpha. Please,” you pleaded. His eyes grew heavy at the request. Your body nearly lifted off the mattress as he licked across your aching heat.

“Thank you,” you hissed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned against you, making you jolt.

“The boys weren't lying when they said you asked nicely,” he smiled against you, not giving you any time to relax before his mouth enveloped your cunt. It was a completely new feeling, one that had you choking on a moan. You didn't bother to hide it, not that you could with his hand wrapped around your wrist. It was hardly a minute before a (now) familiar tightness filled your abdomen, your hands fighting to break free just so you could grab onto something to steady yourself. You were chanting his name, which only seemed to spur him on. You came with a moan that made even him flush. Your legs pressed against his head but he didn't care.

The hardest part was pulling his mouth away from you. Your sweetness already becoming another vice to him. Your teary eyes stared down at him like he had done something wrong- made you cum too hard for your own good. He tried to take it slow, ease you off the cliff gently, but once he got you in his jaws he couldn't let go. He’ll make it up to you.

He kissed up past your belly button, trying not to smirk at the way your chest heaved up and down. His tongue darted out, dragging through the valley of your breasts and up to your collarbone. He shushed you gently, his thumbs wiping the fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheek. You were so sensitive, both physically and emotionally. Your shaky legs found his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. You weren't too deep into your heat, the attention he was giving you making you more aware.

“You okay for more, sweetheart?” he questioned softly, his thumbs still brushing against your heated cheeks. You nodded instantly, your hand cupping his face pulling him down. You could taste yourself against him. Johnny was right, you were sweet. He held himself above you, one of his hands traveling down the curves of your body- slowly like he was trying to memorize each dip. The back of his hand brushed against your thigh- red from the friction of his beard- his fingertips running over your slick gently. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your eyes trained on the ceiling. He hummed softly, grabbing your attention, his forehead resting against yours.

His normal blue eyes were dark like a shark's, but he still held enough softness in them to ease your worries. You doubted your eyes looked any different. His fingers brushed up and down you for a moment before leaving to wrap around his cock. Your eyes naturally followed his movement. He was flushed and angry-looking, his hand providing little relief. His lips connected with yours unexpectedly, your nails finding their way to his back. His chest rumbled at the sensation.

You broke the kiss when he ran his tip across your folds. You gasped against him, your eyes immediately traveling down his strong torso to between your thighs. “John,” you gasped softly, your legs spreading a little wider for him. He was teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you whine but not enough to really cause any pleasure. He shushed you, his lips dancing across your cheek like he was apologizing for not giving you what you needed.

He sat up suddenly, grabbing you by your thighs so you were sitting with your back against his chest, his cock heavy against your bottom. His hands held your thighs apart, rubbing up and down them soothingly. His thumb skimmed against your clit, before pressing down, giving you the sensation you were so desperately chasing. You pressed your hand against your lips, but it was quickly pulled away.

“Don’t shy away now,” he hummed, as your hips began to move away from his hand. “Need you to relax for this part, pretty girl,” he directed. The feeling of his thumb against you was enough to distract you from the finger prodding at your entrance. He sunk in slowly, your copious amount of slick making it less of a challenge. He cursed under his breath at the tightness around his finger. “Gotta work you open, pretty,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

You removed your head from under his chin, your eyes slowly opening, connecting with his through the mirror on the closet door. You moaned at the contact, your eyes scanning lower to his hand between your thighs.

“Like watching yourself?” he chuckled, keeping his gaze steady. He began working another finger in creating a slight burning sensation. He went slow feeling the way your walls adjusted to him. He growled against your neck, practically able to feel you wrapped around his cock. The burn faded as he curled his fingers, brushing against a spot that made your head fall back against his shoulder. “That's it hmmm?” he smiled against your shoulder. The tightness in your stomach was returning. Your hand gripped his wrist between your thighs, your hips grinding against him. “Look at yourself, pretty,” he commanded, his hazy eyes watching your reaction as he pumped his fingers. You complied, watching yourself unravel. “Little more, princess. Can feel you shaking around me.”

A tidal wave crashed over you, your hand nearly ripping him away. He was stronger than you, keeping his thumb against you as you shook in his arms. He growled praises against your ear, watching carefully as you worked through your high.

He was a lucky man.

You rolled over, and he accommodated by laying on his back. You panted against his stomach, the fire in your belly still hardly fading. You were getting thrown more and more into your heat. John could smell it on you. Your teeth scraped against his chest, pressing a few ‘thank you’ kisses against him. You sat up, your thighs on either side of him. He guided you so you were propped up and you watched with murky eyes as his cock immediately sprung to rest against his stomach. You suddenly felt guilty. He had given you two earth-shattering orgasms and you had hardly given him any attention.

He guided your hips back down so he was nestled perfectly between your folds. You got the hint and began rocking your hips back and forth, earning a groan from both of you.

“That's it, pretty girl, just like that,” he groaned. You were so warm, your drooling cunt making it so easy for him to slide back and forth. He cursed, his hands running up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples making you lose your rhythm. He growled, flipping the two of you over so he was on top resting between your thighs. “Can’t take much more, love,” he breathed.

“I’m ready,” you panted, your hands pressed against his abdomen.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he requested, causing you to nod your head. He paused for a moment, shifting you so you could watch yourself in the mirror. Just the sight of him on top of you, your legs spread wide for him made you pulse. “Not fair I get this beautiful sight to myself,” he whispered against your cheek. You whined, your back arching off the bed. He angled himself against you, the tip of his cock already spreading you as much as his fingers had.

“John,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept you close, his hold on you assuring and unwavering, despite the way his body trembled. You groaned, the stretch seemingly never-ending. You could feel every twitch as he rolled his way in.

“So bloody tight,” he cursed, his mouth hanging open in bliss. “Doing so good for me,” he praised. It wasn't a sharp pain like you were expecting, but it burned. Your face pressed against his shoulder, his back marked with crimson ropes. He had finally worked his way inside you, your walls desperately trying to adjust. He imagined it would hurt more if he stayed stationary inside you. He moved his hips back slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. He moved his shoulder away, pressing his forehead against yours. You were uncomfortable, the sight making his alpha restless.

He pushed back in, the friction making you squirm.

“John,” you whined. He rolled his hips back and forth slowly, adding more distance with each thrust. He was halfway buried inside you, rolling his hips forward in one swift motion. Your eyes fell shut, your mouth parting with a moan of his name.

“That's it, pretty,” he groaned, repeating the action. The stretch that had made it almost unbearable was causing pleasure to scorch through your veins with every thrust. “Fuckin’ made for me weren’t ya,’” he groaned. It wasn't even a question at this point, it was a fact. Your cunt molding to fit him. Your heels pressed against his back, hoping to lessen the time he wasn't buried inside you.

You opened your mouth, the words you were wanting to say being ruined by a sloppy moan.

“What, pretty,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

“Feels so good,” you whined pitifully.

“Yeah?” he growled, his strong hips snapping against you. His pace had picked up, his thrusts becoming more and more purposeful. His thumb skimmed across the corner of your lip, swiping away your drool. “What feels good?” he questioned. You could hardly think, let alone voice those thoughts.

“Your cock,” you managed, your whole body flushed from pleasure and embarrassment. He held your chin gently, moving your head so you had the perfect view of him rolling in and out of you in the mirror. His pace had slowed down again, not wanting to rush this moment in the slightest. “Alpha,” you whined, your hands gripping the wrist that was still holding your chin.

“Look so good with my cock in you, don't you?” his voice was tender, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

His hand left your face, his thumb finding a familiar rhythm between your legs.

“Too much,” you gasped, but made no move to stop him, your body becoming more and more addicted to this new euphoric high. “Cum in me,” you pleaded, causing his hips to stutter against you. “Please,” you begged, looking up at him through wet lashes. He wasn't deep enough in a rut to give you a knot, but that doesn't mean he couldn't fill you to the hilt.

“Whatever you need, love,” he soothed. You were shaking. Your claws had already shredded the sheets. “Gonna be a good girl and come on my cock?” he asked. The only thing you could do was nod. You were focusing on it too much, your brows furrowed waiting for the tension in your stomach to release. He smacked your bottom, catching you off guard for the wave of your orgasm to finally wash over you. You gushed around him, a shriek leaving you as your walls spasmed around him eliciting his own release. He came with a booming groan, his vision spotting from the intensity.

His arms giving out from under him sinking both of you into the mattress.

It took ten minutes for both of you to calm down.

“You alright?” he checked, his fingers running over your heated cheek.

“Yeah,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his still-twitching form. “You?”

“Gonna be honest, sweetheart. Never had anything like that,” he panted, placing kisses against any skin he could reach. You believed him. While this was your first time, you knew this wasn't the standard. He had softened out of you, his cum leaving you in a puddle. “Let's get you cleaned up,” he soothed, hoisting you up.

He decided on a bath this time. His hands working against your skin to clean away the mess he had made. You had fallen asleep against him in the tub, happy omega filtering through the air, making him purr. He stayed there till your skin began to prune. It has been a long time since he's been this content. Not that his boys didn't make him happy. You were different, you were his omega. The missing piece of the puzzle. The piece that held peace, safety, and comfort. Kate was right when she said she could smell it on them- their need for an omega. He had been a fool for going this long without one. But if he had done it too soon he wouldn't have ended up with you.

He tucked the two of you in, curling himself around you hoping to get some purrs out of you. Even in your sleep, you could recognize the safety of his arms, a purr of appreciation rumbling through your lax body.

“I love you,” he murmured against the crown of your head, slowly slipping off into his own hibernation.

“Something I need to talk to the two of you about,” Kyle sighed. The three of them had moved outside just after the first few muffled moans vibrated against the door.

Johnny opened his eyes, looking up at Kyle whilst his head was resting in his lap. Simon grunted in acknowledgment.

“You looked at her tracking app lately?” Kyle questioned, causing both of them to shake their heads. Of course not, you had been with them for the past two weeks. “I thought it was a glitch at first, or maybe the app had accidentally connected to someone else's chip, but it was labeled under her name,” Kyle explained. Johnny sat up.

“What was labeled?” he urged, his heart falling into his stomach. He and Simon shared a look.

“Another chip,” Kyle clarified. Simon's jaw clenched.

“What does that mean?” he snipped. “She has another chip?”

“She said she never had one,” Johnny reminded, his stomach growing uneasy. He had always been the quickest to jump to emotions.

“Or she has one she doesn't know about.”

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in two days for chapter 23!!!! 🧡

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ominis-g · 9 months ago

Note

You have to move out of your dorm and Henry let's you stay in his guest room for the time being. After a few nights your bed stays empty because you found an even better place to sleep ...

This was a very good prompt. I plan to make a second part that is more... everything, but I feel like this is a good stopping point for the first part.

Notes: Narrator is a female, and it is implied to be before all the events of Richard's arrival. First person POV because it fits the vibes, but I can always change it. No use of narrator's name.

Summary: After some circumstances has Henry offer you his guest room for the interim, there is a snow storm incoming. No warnings, just a lot of fluff for this part.

Word count: 5 542

The main issue that I had with this place was not the frigid winters or the aloofness of some of its residents, but rather that it never seemed to change. The seasons would merge into each other so slowly that it was hard to pinpoint down precisely where and when they shifted, but I would be adjusting my wardrobe and habits along with the temperatures and until the winter break hit, it was the furthest thing from my mind. And upon return, what then? Heavy overcoats that cut off the view of everyone’s figures and forms and instead transformed the majority of the campus into some sort of shapeless blob until we went inside to the warmth. And then the cycle would begin again, slightly different schedules, different exams and essays, but it was the same.

And it was cold today, though the word hardly seemed sufficient. Vermont certainly had a way to cut through every piece of wool and cloth that I had layered on to stave off the biting wind. Classes were not set to begin for us for another couple of days, but here I was, shell-shocked after returning from home and its much warmer clime. My hands were still shaking as I poured myself a cup of coffee in the cafeteria, but there was not anyone around to notice. I went and sat by the window, despite its frost, because it was near enough to the radiator to offer some semblance of heat.

Hands wrapped around the heat, fingers tapping on the porcelain, I stared out of the window. I should have brought a book, or something to work on, but I had forgotten. It was still early, and the rest of the day laid before me. There was not much traffic, but there was enough people walking by to occupy my mind as I drank that cup, and then returned with a second.

The tables were starting to fill, and so was the air with the sounds of the other students. No one greeted me, since I did not know any of them, and I did not care to. Surely my friends would be back today or the next, and we would spend the time out in the country or at the twins’ speaking all about our breaks and our adventures. Our communication had been through mostly calls when one of us had time, but for Henry, who preferred to write. My mother had found our correspondence for those two months endearing, but it was Henry. Most of his letters were filling me in on the entirety of the class’s misadventures, and the rest was complaining or contemplating something obscure.

I delayed returning to my dorm because I had that soft hope that I would see one of them go by the window, even Bunny, but there was no such luck this morn. I wrapped the scarf further and snugger around my neck and face to brave the chill once more. I made it to the stoop without incident, and was stomping the snow off of my boots when I heard a clamour from within. I stoop up on my tiptoes to see through the window, wondering if I should just make myself scarce, and just barely was able to get out of the way in time. Onto the ice, and slipping down into the snowy brush with sharp pains that made me hiss and grit my teeth, not aided by the slamming of the door. The wood wobbled violently on its hinges, and two large men were dragging out a third.

Their congruent yells were bouncing off of each other, but I was focused on disentangling myself from the brush and then wading awkwardly to the other side and back to the path to avoid all three. When I turned to return, I stopped in surprise. Bunny was there, looking disheveled and agitated and cursing at the retreating backs of his exilers.

“Bun?”

He looked over at me, then scoffed. “Did you see that–”

“What happened?”

I closed the space between us, quite a few paces, when I was sure that he was not about to lash out in his anger at me.

“How was I supposed to know it was a girl’s dorm? She started screeching as soon as I turned the key and knob…” He trailed off, though his furied expression didn’t change. “Mixup in the office, or something.” His face only cleared when I began righting his coat, and he bent over obligingly to allow me to fix his hair, too. It was sticking up at odd angles from what was, no doubt, a very physical altercation. “Anyway, where am I supposed to go now?”

“Go back to the office, and tell them what happened,” I advised as he returned upright. “I am sure it was only a clerical error; just explain it coherently.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “You’re the most sensible of us, y’know?”

Hardly.

I just smiled at him and brushed snow off of his shoulders. He gave me a cheeky wink and turned to walk towards the residential office. I watched him for a moment to be sure he was really going, considering following, before deciding against it and just returning to my room.

—----------------------------------------------

I spent the rest of the morning unpacking, since I had done so little the night before. I had gotten in late, and was simply thankful that someone had been in the office to give me back the key to my room. I had emptied it, of course, and now I was arranging my books on the shelves for something to occupy me. I was bent over my trunk for another armful when there was a knock on the door. Heavy-handed, not polite. I had a sinking feeling it was Bunny.

I answered it anyway. He pushed his way in past me, dragging a suitcase along with him. I frowned at this, but closed the door so no one else could see. “Did it not go well–”

“Hell no,” he complained. He dropped the suitcase heavily on the floor and began pacing through the small space, barely avoiding where I was still unpacking. I returned to the books, waiting for more. “They’re trying to sort it all out, all the other rooms are filled–”

“Have you tried Henry?”

He shook his head. “No answer, and his car’s not in the drive. When was he supposed to be back?”

“Last time he wrote, he said it would be about the same time as me, and I got back last night. Maybe he will come today. Francis? The twins?”

“Boston.” He sat heavily on my bed, and just watched me work for a few moments. “But you’ll not kick me out into the cold, right? I can stay here?”

“You know that I am not supposed to…” I trailed off, glancing over at him, and he really looked in that moment like a big, blond puppy. “You just have to be careful. I am sure one night breaking the coed rule will not hurt, and tomorrow everything will be fixed.” He grinned immediately. “But you sleep on the floor.”

The smile faltered, but then he shrugged. He laid down in my bed, boots hanging off the edge, and continued to watch me unpack. “I thought you’re neater.”

“I just started working.”

Bunny found gum from the depths of his pockets and began chewing loudly. I tried to ignore him as I finished the books, and the silence otherwise was not even peaceful. My irritation finally got the best of me after arranging my desk, and decided I needed a break.

I headed downstairs for the phone. I rang Henry first, and immediately. My fingers tapped impatiently on the wall as I listened to the rings, glancing up the stairs to be sure that Bunny was not about to catch me trying so desperately to be rid of him.

Finally, he answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me. When did you get back?”

“I haven’t even unpacked. I heard the phone from the door.” Blissful, perfect timing. “You can come by.”

“I have a different issue,” I answered quietly, glancing up at the stairs again. “Bunny.”

He lit a cigarette, the match’s sound distinctive even over the gravelly phone. “What did he do now?”

“There was some sort of mixup, and his dorm is nonexistent. He is currently squatting in mine.”

“I can’t have him here again.” I let out a sigh, hand from the wall to my forehead, eyes closing in abject horror at the prospect of spending any sort of time alone with Bunny. “What did the office say?”

“They are working on it, but…”

I did not need to continue. Henry caught it all and finished the thought. “I have the guest room. Grab some things, and you can stay there until it’s sorted.”

“Should I tell him?”

“Just say you’re staying elsewhere, to allow him privacy. I will see you in a few.”

We hung up, and I began the walk up to my room again with a sense of dread. It was not like Bunny was going to believe that. Maybe I could say I was going to opt for the hotel, so we would not get in trouble and get us both kicked out. He would believe that.

Bunny tried in a light way to offer to go to a hotel instead, but there was not any real heart behind it. I insisted that he not worry, and he just thanked me with a smile and got more comfortable on my bed. My clothes were still securely in their suitcase, maybe a little rummaged through that I tried to ignore, and placed on top a few books for classwork, and some supplies from my desk. I left Bunny the key, and he promised not to leave it unlocked and let me get burgled. It was something, at least.

The suitcase was heavy, but nothing I could not handle. Why were Classics books so massive? I huffed my way quickly down the stairs, eager to get through the door and away before Bunny could come up with some reason why I should stay in that tiny room with him.

Henry, bless him, was waiting. He was lounged against his car, smoking, still in his travelling clothes, but when he saw me he opened the trunk. I heaved the suitcase in, closed the trunk, and joined him in the warmth of the car. He offered me one of his Lucky Strikes, which I took and lit as he drove off. I recounted the entire morning’s events with our windows rolled down just enough to let out the smoke but not the heat, and though he glanced at me, he did not comment until I was finished.

“I know why he lives in the dorms, but why do you?”

“Convenience, mainly. I suppose I could rent somewhere, but if it is too far I would have to get a car, and that is a lot of extra steps for something so easily solved by living in the dorms.”

“You mentioned in a letter that your mother would prefer if you lived off-campus.” I frowned at him and his damned memory, letting out a steady cloud of smoke. He glanced at me, then shook his head with the hint of a smile. “Something about not wanting you to get mixed up in the party culture.”

“What she does not know will not hurt her.”

“So, you told her about the class.”

“Nothing specific. I spoke of you all as friends, though your letters did spark more inquiries.” He made an amused noise. “What?”

“Did she read any of them?”

“She does not know Latin. Of course, that just made her think of the whole correspondence as romantic. I had to correct her more than once, but after about a dozen times, I gave up.”

He was quiet. He pulled into the drive and shut off the car without a word, and I watched him get out with the air of a statue. I took the last pull from the cigarette and stepped to the snow as well, throwing the butt into the pile that someone had shoveled the snow from the drive into. I retrieved my suitcase from the trunk opened by Henry, but he was already at the door and unlocking it. I hurried to follow, knocking the snow off my boots hastily.

I had offended him. I set down the suitcase, unwinding my scarf and watching him flip through the waiting mail without expression. I hung up my overcoat in the closet, right beside the mail table. “Did you correct her for any particular reason?” He finally wondered.

“My mother is quite the romantic, and insists that I should be as well. She would have been insufferable if I had done any less. I was quite glad to return, to get out of there, actually.”

“There is something of romance in communicating through letters,” he mused, but he was still looking through the mail, and I was facing the closet, trying to get my scarf to hang right with my coat. “I took joy in it. Did you?”

“Yes.” He did not say anything more, so I followed up: “It really was just for my sanity. I did not need her dragging out her wedding albums or something.”

“That’s understandable.”

Henry abandoned the mail back to the table, and was beside me to hang up his coat as well. I could not think of anything else to say, because what was there to say? He did the task in silence and then he showed me to the guest room. When he left to go unpack himself, I checked the folding bed to be sure it was locked so I could make it up with the provided bedclothes in peace. I unpacked my few books and supplies, but left the rest in the suitcase.

I brought my literature book, a notebook, and pen with me when I ventured outwards again. I sat down in the kitchen, and that is where Henry found me. He had changed, and he set down his own work on the opposite side of the table before going to make some tea. It was mainly for me, though he poured himself a cup as well, and for quite a while we worked in silence.

A thick gust of wind broke us from the concentration some time after noon, and I frowned at the sound of the impending storm. He did not look up from his work, though I was considering the way the snow was blowing from its resting places out the window. “You’re safe here. Steady as a rock, this house.” His fountain pen rose from paper, and he joined me in looking at the weather. “We could do with some supplies, though. Would you mind running out?”

I did not mind. I needed the break anyway. He dictated to me a short list of what to be sure to get at the grocery while I did up my snow boots again. It did not take me long, despite all of the other people there at the store, and on the way home I turned on the car’s radio to find the weather report. Well, no wonder the store had been packed and the shelves half-empty. There was a snowstorm set to hit the following day, just in time for everyone to come back to Hampden.

Henry helped me in putting all of the supplies away, mostly food for us to make, and I had made sure to pick up snacks for myself. He inspected the package of cookies instead of putting them on the shelf inside the cabinet, where he had placed my mixed nuts and sugary cereal. “You actually eat these?”

“They are good,” I assured him, working on rearranging the fridge to hold the milk. “And if the power goes out, I will not want to bake.”

“I forgot you bake,” was all he replied, and went back to the task. “I haven’t heard you talk about baking since last year.”

“Since we were speaking about bakeries in Rome–”

“And the differences in the various Greek cities,” he agreed, leaning against the counter to light a cigarette. He placed the pack back onto the table, so I sat down to light one myself. “If you had access to a kitchen, would you bake while here at Hampden? I’m sure Charles would appreciate it.”

“I suppose so.” I watched him check the cabinet where I had put in fresh flour, baking soda, and sugar. Everything he had had from before the break was stale, or empty. “Bread, or sweets?”

“Perhaps a bit of both; we could try to recreate some breads that the ancients would have enjoyed.”

“We would have to go outside Hampden to find the flours and grains.”

This did not seem to bother him. He closed the cabinet and returned to standing as he had been, pondering the end of his cigarette. “True. It would be a worthy endeavour.”

“Are you offering your kitchen for my use?”

He focused instead on taking in a long drag. He had let it out before he said simply, “yes.”

I smiled, but I do not think he noticed. He was too engrossed in how absolutely fascinating his dwindling cigarette was. “What do you want for supper?”

The unspoken tension in the air loosened as we made a very simple meal of roast chicken and vegetables together. Neither of us were skilled cooks, but once he had given his opinion and the bird was in the oven, Henry returned to his work. I pondered the empty counters, the time remaining, and then made us a small batch of biscuits to go along with it. His smile returned when he smelled them; I doubt he even clocked that I was making them before that, or maybe he did and had only been looking when my back was to him.

Henry lit a few candles as the sky darkened, but even as we ate he seemed utterly unbothered; I, on the other hand, was constantly glancing out the window to judge the intensity. It was not terrible to be trapped inside of this apartment with him, but being trapped anywhere did not appeal to me, and especially not the rigid frigidity of snow. Vermont.

We started drinking after supper, and he and I put away our work. We sat on his sofa instead, him swirling his glass of whiskey as he read aloud to me in his flowing Greek any passage that caught his fancy. I played solitaire on the table as I listened, the flicker of the candlelight and the rattle of the radiators offering a very welcome ambiance that almost allowed me to forget the blizzard’s noises outside.

—-------------------------------------------------

Even with the liquor in me, the bed was still uncomfortable. I knew it was far more preferable than listening to Bunny’s snoring and bothering that was sure to have come had I stayed, but in the depths of sleeplessness, I could only think about how much it was uncomfortable. When we had said good night to each other, Henry had offered in a polite way to switch beds, but I had brushed off the gesture as not necessary. Besides, he needed the better bed.

I was up early, but of course Henry was awake before me. He had made coffee, so I poured myself a cup and went to find him. He was sitting in his room with the door open, working– as usual. I paused there at the threshold with the storm’s sounds drowning out everything else, watching him at his desk. His chair was slightly inclined to the door, like he had expected me to find him like that, but he was bent over some large book and did not even look up. I waited, sipping at my coffee, until he finished whatever he was reading before I knocked on the open door softly.

“Come in,” he invited, and so I did. I sat down in his armchair, and my presence seemed to remind him of his coffee cup. He sat back to nurse it, eyes moving over the splay of papers on his desk before his attention turned to me. “How did you sleep?”

“I think the storm kept me up.” He nodded knowingly. “What of you?”

“Well enough. It is good to be back in my own bed.” He paused with the cup raised up as if to take a drink. “Which I’m sure you’ll be soon enough.”

“I will make sure to wash the sheets.” He smiled, and did finally take a sip of his coffee. My fingers tapped at the porcelain softly. “What if they are unable to figure it out?”

“Then you’ll stay here. We can go get the rest of your things.” It was stated matter-of-factly, as if the answer had been obvious.

“I do not wish to impose on you–”

“I don’t mind your company.”

I hid the unease behind my mug. I could not pinpoint it, not exactly– was it the fear of Bunny staying for the term in my dorm, or the fear of him not? Was it rather the prospect of seeing Henry daily– more than I already did– and him maybe growing irritated by my presence? “I have never had a roommate.”

“You only have to be more agreeable than Bunny, and I would like to think I am as well.”

“It was a very pleasant day yesterday.”

“It was; relaxing, even, which is just what we needed before classes begin.”

He was not relenting, or maybe I was just too inexperienced at skirting around difficult questions. “Are you not worried you will tire of me?”

His brow rose, and with his hair slightly mussed from the early hour, it threw his scar into sharp relief. “No.”

“At all?”

“This is all and entirely hypothetical, but if we follow the thought through: no, I do not see myself growing tired of you. Disagreements, annoyances, on both of our parts, but that’s normal. We both have schedules beyond the Greek class, and the only difference would be seeing each other like this, before we retire, and for more meals than usual. That’s hardly an unseemly amount of difference.” He rose to find his cigarettes, and I considered him, his words, and his craving for nicotine. We were both quiet until he was shaking out the match. “The only conflict I could see arising is if you took some beau.”

I blinked slowly at the words, because they were not what I was expecting, especially from him. We had never spoken about it before, whether by design or by happenstance, I was not sure. “Why?”

“Coming home at all hours– or not at all– and I would have to meet the poor fellow, wouldn’t I? Then there’d be another person in the house with us, and when our friends come over, it’s already too many.” He leaned over to knock off some ash in his over-filled ashtray. “Unless you already have one. Back home, perhaps?”

“No; I am sure it would make my mother very happy, but no. You and Julian and everyone have completely monopolised my time. Well– and classes, of course. Family obligations…” I trailed off, because he was smiling. “Well then– you, same question.”

Henry actually laughed, waving away the question along with smoke in the air. “No, no.” I sighed over my coffee. “Who would it be? Surely no one else but our group could keep my interest, or for long. I’m too busy to look elsewhere.” He said it casually, but my eyes narrowed at his wording. He was focused on his cigarette again, though still smiling. “Say, how did it look outside?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

He ignored me, carrying his mug and cigarette with him to go into the main room. I had to force my face to clear before I joined him, draining the last of my coffee. He was standing at the window, looking out at the snow that was moving blurringly fast, almost surreal with the orange glow from the street lamps. “It seems a perfect day for translations.”

“Until the heat goes out.”

“Good thing that you’re here, then.” I wrapped both of my hands around the mug, trying very hard not to think about it. “Why don’t you get your work and we can relax in my room? It’ll be more comfortable than the kitchen.”

I pulled on a sweater as well, and sat there in his armchair eating a bowl of cereal noisily. I wanted to see if he would admit that I would annoy him, but he genuinely did not seem to mind and was utterly focused on his work. I refilled both of our coffees when I was done, and he murmured a thanks as I replaced it back onto his desk. I had my book for a literature class to read, so I lounged in the chair with a candle on the table beside it to slog through.

The power went out some time around noon, which I only discovered when I went to get something for lunch. I made two sandwiches and poured myself a glass of milk, wondering how long the power would be out, and worried it would spoil. I set his plate down onto his desk, and he started as if from a trance. He sat back to rub at his eye under his glasses, and I retreated to my chair.

“Power is out.”

“Inevitable,” he returned, examining the sandwich briefly before taking a bite. He finished the whole thing without speaking; he had not eaten breakfast. “As long as the gas stays on, we should have heat.”

We returned to our silent work. I left and came back to his room a few times, to get different books, to get a notebook, but he did not comment. I stopped at the window each time, but the house besides his room was completely dark; I could no longer see the street lamps, or any semblance of life outside of his walls.

Henry had found I had moved to the floor to spread out and take notes for an essay over his rug when he finally rose. He must have gotten up more than that, simply to relieve himself, but this time was different. His head tilted as he looked over my work. “Comfortable?”

“Your carpet makes a wonderful desk, as big as I need.”

“You’re more than welcome to get your own desk.” I turned over to my back, eyes up his form with a smile for him. “Hypothetically, of course.” It was a very good view. He was still dressed as Henry, but he wore a sweater as we had no where to be or anyone else to see today. His hands slid into the pockets of his trousers, perhaps to shift them so I could see nothing from that angle but for the fold of the cloth.

“Then how would we work together?”

“True,” he conceded, but he still looked thoughtful. His head turned, considering his desk, and I got a new angle for his features, the hair shadowing his eye, everything. “Maybe a large table, or two desks pushed up together, so we could work face-to-face.”

“Or I could continue to lay siege to your carpet.” He smiled. “Batter your desk’s defences–”

“Watch out for the hot wax,” he broke in. “Terrible for your troops, and my men are far from sitting ducks.”

I laughed lightly, and he met my smile. He then offered me his hands, and though I did hesitate, I was always going to take them. I sat up enough so my hands could meet his, slide into the warmth, and he stepped to the side as he helped me up. What could I say? There was a moment with our fingers still on each others’ wrists and palms, and us standing closer than I think we had ever stood before. I could feel his warmth, not just through the touch but through the mite space between us, could smell the ink, the coffee, the smoke and all the different scents from the house that made it so distinctly Henry.

I looked up at him in that brief interlude, and our gaze held together for the duration. My lips parted, raking my brain for something to say– did I even want to say anything? I took in a breath.

“Let’s take a break,” he said, not unkindly. His hands slid back, and so I withdrew mine as well, our fingertips lingering for a further second before he looked away, and then went to find his Lucky Strikes. I felt flush, my sweater suddenly sweltering, so I welcomed the walk out of his warm little room and into the main room. He did not bother to light any candles, using the cherry of his cigarette to guide him if he needed it, and then mine as well.

Henry made a displeased noise when he stopped at the window, hand up to see if he could wipe away the obstruction, but no: that was snow plastered onto the windows and turning to ice. Despite the radiators rattling eerily, it was definitely colder out here than in the room we had been occupying, proof of just how cold and dreary it was outside of those walls.

“We’ve been keeping my room warm,” he noted, cigarette to his lips and squinting through the smoke.

“I might stay the entire night in there,” I returned in a light tone. He looked to me through the smoke, perhaps trying to determine if I was jesting or not. “I would not wish either of us to freeze to death.”

“And who knows if the heat will remain throughout the night,” he agreed in the same kind of tone, so I was the one questioning the meaning. “Just another reason why– hypothetically– you’d be the ideal roommate.”

“Is it still hypothetical?” He smiled around his cigarette, and for a moment we just smoked in silence. “Even if it is, I could not spend the entire term on that foldout bed.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Still, you should have your own space, even if you shared mine on frigid nights such as this one.” He turned from the dark window for the couch, sitting down upon it and finally lighting a candle. He poured us each a drink, and he handed it to me as I joined him. “Of course, if you wished, you could get a bed of your own choosing, should you not want to share mine nightly.”

“Do you snore?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

I shook my head. “Just while ill.”

“I think that’s everyone,” he mused, relaxing beside me with the ashtray between us. “I don’t blame you, by the way. Even if it wasn’t coed, I would not want to be stuck in such a small space with Bunny for an undetermined amount of time, and he does snore.”

“I do not mind him usually,” I replied, snuffing out my cigarette so I could focus on that glass of whiskey. “But the entire thing made me nervous. He is not the quietest person, not to mention how it would look when we were inevitably found out, even with him sleeping on the floor–”

“He would have guilted you into giving up your bed, or sharing–”

“Precisely, hence the anxiety.”

He was quiet as he considered that, and our previous words. “And I don’t make you anxious in that way?”

“No, and if you did, I could simply return to my own bed. I did not have anywhere to go with him there.” He made a curious noise into his glass. “And, you and I, we have a different… relationship.”

“We do.” It was such a short and simple statement that I waited for more. Anything more, really. He had finished his drink before it came. “Mutual respect, and you don’t impose yourself anywhere.”

“I try not to.”

“And if I had denied you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He set down his glass to pour himself another finger, and then two. He offered the bottle to me, so I held out the glass so he could refill mine as well. “Hypothetically or not, I’m not doing that.” The bottle was down, and I still without words. He returned to relax beside me, swirling the whiskey around thoughtfully, perhaps waiting for me to say something.

“Thank you,” I finally managed. It made him smile. “But I also do not want things to be awkward if–”

“We’re both adults here, and we are friends. Quid enim mali accidere potest?”

“Sic transit gloria mundi.” He shook his head, holding back laughter before it was out in a chuckle into his glass. “I meant more that we will endure as friends even if anything romantic does not. No need to imply the end of the world as we know it.”

I shrugged and took a long drink. “I could not bear it.”

“Then let us be sure that we endure.”

A/N: Any glaring errors, please let me know!

#the secret history #henry winter #henry winter x reader #tsh #tsh donna tartt #fanfiction #the secret history fanfic #fanfic

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smilesatdawnmain · 2 months ago

Text

Big Family Au

(Pick your Adventure: 1

A day with MK Part One)

(with a landslide win, we got MK!!!)

—-/

You have been welcomed into the home of Sun Wukong the Liu’er Mihou within Flower Fruit Moutanin after having recently joined the tribe. Due to circumstances out of your control, you have lost your previous home seeking sanctuary within FFM.

Given your own room for your time here until more long term accommodations have been made, you have a soft bed, your own desk, and a few spare clothes offered by the Second King, Macaque. They have treated you kindly, insisting should you need anything you can come to them.

Knowing nothing of this realm, it’s rules, or what your future might entail, the future leaders of this mountain, the children of Wukong and Macaque, wish to give you some peace of mind. Sun Wukong eagerly pushes them to get to know you and learn to welcome the outside world into their abode to better prepare for their one time as leaders in the future.

He suggests they give you a tour, a welcoming, and help you settle in and learn on how this domain works.

Offering his assistance first, is the second eldest to the throne- Prince Xiaotian. Also known as MK, the Monkey Kid.

As you awake around 8:30 A.M, you are aware he is coming to pick you up for your first day here. Getting dressed, you sit upon your bed and wait.

As time passes, it is 9AM, and you being to fret that maybe you misheard. Perhaps you were supposed to go meet up with him somewhere? Was he waiting for you now?

Fussing, you go to open the door with the plan to wander your way until you find someone- before you hear a noise from down the hall.

You see a girl standing in the hall, Princess Xue, the second youngest to the royal family. She seems to be talking to her brother.

“Anon has been waiting for you. Any later and I would have stolen them from you~ Always so late, MK.” Her voice was calm, sweet in nature put very pointed in tone- all indicating to a brown-furred Monkey who was sliding into view, who was panting as if he had run here in a panic.

“I’m not always late. Just mostly late…” MK freezes at the sight of you. He turns, putting a hand on his hip. "Oh! Anon! Sorry to keep you waiting." he shooes his sister away, eager to get the day started. Xue glances back and offers a little wink- almost a promise that she'll steal you away another time.

"There is so much for us to see! I don't wanna overwhelm you though. It's easy to get lost around here. I know this is probably a lot, moving somewhere new and not knowing what comes next. It's hard to keep positive when who knows what could be around the corner. But you are a part of the tribe now. We got your back."

"It's a little wild here, but I think you'll love it just like I do." he offers a smile, and you can tell he's being honest with you. This was the Monkey Kid after all.

Who hadn't heard of the new hero taking up the Monkey King's staff to keep the lands safe? The guy gave a helping hand wherever he went. Certainly held both of his parent's beauty and strength combined. Some whispered that despite how powerful his elder brother was, it would be MK who truly was the successor to his Father.

However, other rumors circulated too. Nothing was confirmed, but the day he and his twin brother, Xiaohua, were born, there was rumored to be an eclipse at the same time. One that spelled out the arrival of the Harbinger of Chaos and the ender of the cycle.

It was all hush-hush now- perhaps to keep the masses calm. Could this truly be the one to end it all?

"You okay?" MK asked, noticing you weren't quite responding. You quickly get out of your own head and nod. "Great! Then let's start this tour, yeah? I'll let you pick first. I doubt we'll see everything today, but my siblings can show you what we miss." he gestured down the hall. "So what will it be first?" ---------- The Poll below will be where you would like to visit. (You are starting this in the home of Sun Wukong and his Family :D) Where you pick might also have you run into other characters going about their day IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FOR MK PLEASE PUT THEM IN THE COMMENTS FOR HIM TO ANSWER DURING THIS ADVENTURE :D

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk mk #shadowpeach #big family au #qi xue #pick your own adventure #a day with MK

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wandussyfantasy · 5 months ago

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I'm Late

Summary: Final part to the Jealous mini series. Kate is afraid that she hasn't had her period in some time and expresses her concern to Y/n

Pairings: Kate Bishop x g!pReader

For: @ravienaa031

Word Count: 1,589

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!! smut, g!preader, powerbottom!KateBishop, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation, oral, sex toys, fantasies, and teasing.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

You and Kate are lying in your bed, she has her head on your chest and you have an arm around her. The two of you are quiet as you relax after having sex. You sit up a little in the bed and pull out a joint from the drawer in the desk that sits next to your bed. You light it and take a drag. You offer a hit to Kate, as you always do but this time she declines and snuggles her head into your chest more.

“I’m late,” she mumbles as she holds onto you.

“Oh shit, you have a class right now?” You laugh as you try to pull her off.

“No, I'm done with classes for the week,” she replies.

“Then what are you late for? Work? I thought you only work when you're home for the summer.” You take another drag.

“I do,” Kate pouts as she draws invisible shapes on your chest with her finger.

“Then what are you late for?” you set the rest of the joint down on your ashtray. “Do you have something going on for your sorority? Because you seem awfully calm about being late.”

You look into her soft blue eyes and see something serious in them that makes your heart start to beat a little faster. “I’m actually pretty terrified right now,” Kate admits.

You gulp as you come to the conclusion on what she means but you won't say anything about it until she confirms it. Until she says the words. “Kate, what are you late for?”

“My menstrual cycle,” she answers softly.

“Okay,” you start calmly, “have you taken a test? I mean, we've been pretty careful… well most of the time.”

“I was too scared to check without you,” she admits in a small voice. You can't help but stroke her hair. She looks so scared and you aren't quite sure how to comfort her.

“Do we need to go get some?”

“No, I brought some with me. I,” she takes a breath, “I planned on coming here to do that but when I saw you… ugh I couldn't resist doing this!”

“Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll just get dressed and I'll get you some fluids and we'll get you peeing, okay?” Kate nods as you rub her arm to comfort her. “Do you think checking after sex will give a wrong result?” you ask as you jump out of your bed and gather clothes. “Do you have a drink preference? Wait, you probably don’t need something to drink. You usually pee after sex. Unless, are you too nervous? Shit! What do you need from me, Kate?” There are very few times you are ever wishing that you were never born with a penis and right now is one of those times.

Kate stands up and grabs your hands to calm you down and calls your name until you stop rambling and look at her. “I will take the water.”

The five minutes while the two of you wait for the results are the longest minutes of your lives. You sit next to Kate and hold her hand. You try to stay calm but this was nerve wracking. One second she's bouncing on your dick and calling screaming your name and then next she's telling you she might be pregnant. You don't get how this could have happened.

The test, thankfully, comes out negative. The both of you are filled with relief. No baby is on the way. No stress of having to make a decision on whether or not to keep it. No spur of the moment marriage proposal. The two of you can go another day to be irresponsible.

“How should we celebrate?” You ask when you toss the test.

Kate takes your hand and guides you to her bed. You sit in the edge as she lowers herself between your legs. She unzips the fly of your jeans and pulls your limp dick out of your pants. You smirk as you watch her wrap her plump lips around the head of your xockm. “Yeah, that's a great way to celebrate.” You bite your lip as you tangle your fingers in her hair.

You thrust you hips up slightly against her mouth as you feel yourself harden while her lips work her magic on you. You groan as she starts to use her hands on the rest of you as your dick grows in her mouth. “Fuck, Kate.”

She smirks as she looks up at you and takes her shirt off. She pushes her supple breasts together and slipps your thick cock between them. You thrust your hips as she licks the tip of your penis while you fuck her tits. You groan excitedly.

“Where?” You asks since you're close.

“Already?” She smirks.

“Shut up, where?” You groan as you prepare to cum all over her face right now.

She giggles as she drops her breasts and wraps her lips around your cock again. You pump your load into her mouth as her cheeks inflate. But she doesn't let a drop escape. You shudder as you pull your dick away from her mouth and wipes her lips and finish swallowing your load.

Her phone pings and she gets up to check it. You know that ringtone of hers. It's specific to her secret business. Her OnlyFans account. You weren't sure how you felt about it since the two of you began seeing each other exclusively.

“Now I need you to behave yourself. I need to work,” she says as she waves you off her bed. You stand with your dick still hanging out of your pants. She sets up her tripod and pulls out a box of toys from underneath her bed.

You sigh and start to stuff your dick back inside of your pants.

“Where do you think you're going?” Kate asks.

“You want me to stay?”

“Yeah, sit in that chair in the corner. I need you babe. I can't get off anymore without you. It's made my job… work,” she frowns as she changes into her lingerie. You obey her request and sit on the chair in the corner of her room. Watching her from the other side of the camera. You sit with your dick, that's still wet from her lips and watch as she gets into character for whatever sick fucker paid her for the video call.

“Mmm you want me to use that big boy? Oh, I hope it fits in my tiny tiny pussy,” she says in a high pitched voice. You had never heard her sound so pornographic before. You watch as she pulls out a dildo from her toy box and you smirk as it's half your size. She can most definitely handle that dildo. “It's stretching me deep inside zaddy,” she says as she makes a face.

You lick your lips as your dick starts to wake up again. She is riding that silicon cock pretty hard as she makes fake noises of pleasure. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does but you watched a lot of porn as a teenager. You start to stroke yourself as Kate watches you. She bites her lips as she grips her breasts. She starts to rub her clitoris to get a release. You can hear the moans of the man on the computer and you almost want to shut the computer off but you know it's better to keep from upsetting her client.

Kate can see that you're struggling and she smirks before she puts on a big show of “finishing” for the client. When the man logs off, Kate beckons you over. You shut the laptop closed on the way over. You watch as she pulls the dildo out of her dripping pussy.

“Finish me,” she begs. You toss your clothes and climb on top of her. You kiss her passionately. Your tongue wrestles with hers. You shove your cock deep inside of her. She moans as you pump inside of her. You feel yourself getting close early again. You don't know what has made you so sensitive. You pull out and stroke yourself until you're spurting all over her breasts.

“Sorry,” you say through your groans. You move to put your head between her legs. “I'll take care of you, baby. Don't worry.” You promise against her pussy lips. You lick her moist lips moaning as you taste her. It's become your favorite flavor. You slip your tongue inside of her hole for a few seconds then move to suck on her clitoris. She moans as she pulls in your hair. You hum against her pussy as your hand blindly searches for her dildo.

Kate helps you find it. She places it in your hand. As you continue to pleasure her with your tongue you align the dildo and press the tip in her entrance. You fuck her with the dildo until she is screaming and shuddering. Her intense orgasm causes her to squirt on your face.

You pull away breathlessly with a grin as she continues to squirm on her bed.

“Good thing we don't have to worry about a kid. We'd never get to be that loud again,” you joke with a short laugh as you wipe your face.

Kate scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You'll knock me up soon enough and you know it.”

“Shut up,” you start to stroke your cock again, “or I'll shut you up.”

Kate smirks with a mischievous gaze.

The End.

#kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x reader #marvel smut #kate bishop #smut

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kosmicdream · 1 year ago

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Hello. After drawing webcomics for 10 years and making about 10,000 pages of comics, here are some things i have learned/observed in that experience..

1) making comics does not get easier.. Not really

Making comics is a tedious and slow process and with so many different facets of the experience to learn - you’ll never run out of stuff to learn or weaknesses to work on. I’m not saying this to discourage but to just give the frank reality that it really takes a lifetime to understand. Be patient with yourself and try to set healthy expectations.

2) Read your own comics after making them.

I don’t know if this is as important to other people as it is to me, but I do think that sometimes its easy to not re-read your own work and just go from your own memory of it, or maybe you’re tired of looking at it because of all the flaws. I don’t personally get sucked into the “rewrite/remake” cycle that I know is common with comics, as I sort of just accept things as they are, but re-reading my work does help me see where I have come from and where I need to go to next. I personally don’t like to lose sight of that, and I think re-reading helps ground me in the planning process of my work and gives me a better perspective on all aspects.

3) A lot of comic advice should be taken with a grain of salt, because its the person talking to themselves. (including this)

I see a lot of advice that never would have worked for me, or just simply wasn’t something I was ever going to follow. “Dont start with your big epic long stories”! Is a common one. I don’t think that’s bad advice exactly, but how many young artists are going to listen, especially if they’ve never told a story in the first place? Yes, the advice to start small and build yourself up with experience sounds great, I’m sure people do it, but if you’re an artist you’re probably not gonna be that responsible. And for me, when i tried to do this with eggshells, my house burnt down and i kinda gave up comics for a while because i lost a lot of work.

Writing short stories is still something I struggle with, its just not easy for me. I have gotten better at it but i don’t think that makes me less of a comic artist because I haven’t gotten good at that particular format, or that I jump around on my projects. Is it more impressive to have more completed work under your belt, sure. But I also think that.. Idk.. what is the advice actually saying, because with that one it sort of feels (often times) as a warning that you’re setting yourself up for failure/embarrassment by attempting a comic like that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but comics are gonna be embarrassing no matter what you do and there’s no guarantee you’ll be more successful/not experience failure by avoiding your passions. Something to think about anyway.

4) Don’t draw every leaf. Unless you really want to.

I’m the kind of comic artist that kind of doesn’t care about the art as much as the whole package of the comic. When i see a very impressively drawn panel/page, with laborious detail that is well drawn and maybe even colored ect.. That usually is kind of, I guess, a turn off for me as part of the reading experience. The thing is, when i encounter that, it usually signals to me that someone has poor planning skills for comics. It says to me that comic is probably not going to see its end or that artist is overworking themselves in an unnecessary way, that ends up concerning me about how they’re doing. Because i know how hard it is to draw comics. When an artist phones things in a bit, or has a limit on how much they work on a page, its a relief for me to see! because I understand they have healthier boundaries and expectations, and the art itself usually is less stiff too. This is all an overgeneralization, but I think with a lot of webcomic artists we are usually drawing a comic for the first time ever, so it makes sense we want to do our best and try as hard as possible - that just usually isn’t the smartest plan to put all the stock in the visual department. This also kinda frustrates me to see because most comics (professional or not) will also (generally) not reel the art in ever or make a more simple style. Generally I see it always trying to outdo itself, which leads to burn out. I personally only work about 1hr on each page i draw, that hasn’t changed in the 10 years I have been drawing comics, but i used to spend hundreds of hours drawing detailed lineart for eggshells and it didn’t even read well and i’d be disappointed with the results, feeling more lost with my goals than ever. PLEASe.. Just draw worse, its usually better looking in the end too. (because you wont have the experience to judge visual clarity until you’ve been drawing comics for a while imo..)

5) Don’t draw ahead, draw those inbetweenies.

“Inbetweenies” are the pages for the “boring” ones. They are also usually the most common KIND of page. Its the pages that are necessary, but “inbetween” the action. The impact moments in a scene, ect. You gotta draw them. They’re always gonna be there. They’re the pages where maybe, the character is walking somewhere, thinking, ect. The after impact from an action.. There’s a million examples, but hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when I say they’re both necessary pages/panels, sometimes so mundane/redundant, but also required for telling the story.. As a comic is a sequence of images. This is why, the previous advice is also important IMO- because if you really want to “draw every leaf” - maybe you should save that energy and effort for those impact moments that you want to impress the reader with.. And not for the inbetweenies, which are the foundational support, but also not the most important moments. If you conserve your energy a bit, the contrast OF that effort will also pop more. I personally find it funny when I put more effort into a page and end up tricking my readers into thinking I got better at drawing, when really i just have been able to draw better and only save it for moments like this instead of always.

Also, when I say don’t draw ahead.. I mean I draw each page at a time before going to the next one. I have no idea if this is an unusual practice or not, and I know a lot of people will draw their chapters/episodes/whatever in sections like sketch/ink/color/ect.. But I personally draw and finish page by page, unless its the thumb/sketch stage. Even then, i don’t go ahead much. I think that you can control flow/pacing better by doing chapters all at once of course, I see that as a benefit. But i also think that makes things very overwhelming and can also result in a lack of flexibility if something isn’t working. No matter HOW much planning you do- comics are always going to have an aspect of IMPROVISATION with the result you get in the end. There are way too many factors in play to be in complete control of all of them and always know the result of the reading experience. SO for me, this technique is easier and has been something that continues to get me to working effectively. Plus, rumiko takahashi said that’s what she does. And i think she has some of the best visual flow/compositions in comics. So that’s what I do.

I could write more personal advice or rules that i follow..but I think those are the ones I find are the most important to me anyway. Of course, comics are a strange medium and not everything that works for me will work for you. That’s all for now.. Bye bye…!

Oh by the way, my comics are here: feastforaking.com nastyreddogs.com https://kosmic.itch.io/ Support me on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/kosmic

#webcomics #webcomic #webcomic advice #comic #comics

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the-witty-pen-name · 6 months ago

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Nothing But Trouble (1)

Billy Hargrove x Shy!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Synopsis: Billy has done everything in his power to completely destroy his life- like his goal is to crash and burn before he even gets a chance to start. Assigned as his peer tutor at Hawkins Community College, begrudgingly you are slowly helping pull himself up out of the hole he dug for himself. Somewhere along the way, he falls for you and in a turn of events you’d never predict for yourself, you fall for him too.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI (nothing in this chapter, but will be in later chapters); mentions of abusive parents (Billy's Dad); struggles with mental health; seeking help for mental health; flirting; some fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing for Billy so please let me know how I did- and what you'd like to see next!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

No one expected Billy to have stayed in Hawkins following graduation. Furthermore, no one expected to see him enroll at the local community college. His plan had always been to get the fuck away from Neil and flee to the furthest place he could conceivably go. It had been his plan to escape for as long as he could remember. The Hargrove household was never a place he could ever call home.

No one knew the reason he stuck around. People theorized he stayed because of lack of money, or because he was a big fish in a small pond in Hawkins, etc. He stayed for Max- a plan to get his shit together and save her too. He didn’t believe it himself. No one would believe him if he ever admitted it anyways.

Stupid fucking pipe dream that he’d never amount to- moving back to California and bringing Max and Susan with him. He’d swear he’d get his act together and step up for them. He’d change and be a big brother- step up and be the man of the family. However, Billy wasn’t that guy- he didn’t know how to be that guy. He was stuck in a spiral of hatred and self-destruction. He knew who he needed to be, but it wasn’t who he became.

Most of the time, Billy, if he did show up to class, showed up hungover or sleep deprived or just couldn’t get his shit together. He’d snap at his professors and peers. Mandated by the Dean by threat of being expelled, he began sessions with the school therapist- which turned into a referral to one mental health counselor after another until Billy felt he’d been turned from the inside out and dissected until he had nothing left to disclose.

It was unlike him, very uncharacteristically so, to go along with all of it. He doesn’t know what possessed him to spill it all- break down in the stuffy little office on east campus. He felt like he was pushed off of a precipice and he kicked and screamed the whole way down. It all came out- every emotion he bottled up- all of his anger. All of his deep rooted, ignored until it was bigger him, true fucking sadness just ruptured and he couldn’t stop it.

He’s broken- so fucking broken. But he’s willing to change. He needs to change. He’d decided that he won’t become Neil. He won’t be anything like that bastard. He needed to turn his life around or this fucking bullshit would consume him like he’s let it go this long.

So this is how in the beginning of his second year- two semesters away from his associates, he’s stuck spending his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with a tutor. Amidst the revelation for self improvement, he’s realized he should probably start to get his shit together. Almost too late in the game, as he coasted with mostly C’s and a few well deserved D’s and now he’s desperate to get his grades up.

Valedictorian of Hawkins High, no one expected you to stay in Hawkins following graduation. You were destined for greatness- the one to break the working class cycle. You were the one with the one way ticket to university and you were supposed to be leaving nothing behind but tire tracks. Yet, you’re here. No one understood why. Enrolled in your hometown community college and rumored to stay in Hawkins for the rest of your life.

Both of you wanted to be anywhere but here. Which is why for the past 3 sessions of tutoring, Billy never said one word and you didn’t either. Your initial questions were met with shrugs and silence, but you were fine with that. You could wait it out- the school paid you either way. It made no difference to you whether or not he passed or failed. You just didn’t understand why he kept bothering to show up.

Billy never bothered you the same way he got his long list of enemies at Hawkins High. Surprisingly, he left you alone. You’d have thought you’d have been an easy target- nerdy, shy and awkward. Billy and your paths didn’t cross often. You’d see him at parties occasionally, but it was nothing more than a glance from across the crowd. You couldn’t even really call each other acquaintances.

You’d sign his paper he needed to give back to his academic advisor, proving he came to tutoring. Then, you’d both leave. Both of you would show up the next week on time, sit in silence and the cycle would continue. Until it didn’t.

You didn’t show up on time, and Billy sat in the library waiting for you. He would check the clock, watch the door, and then check the clock again. Where the fuck were you? You walk in, late and looking flustered. You look like you’d just run here, but he doesn’t ask. You take your usual seat across from him and flip your binder open. He notices the grease on the front of your sweater.

“Car trouble?” He asks, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

“He speaks,” you say with shock. You settle back against the chair. “Um, yeah, my car has been giving me a lot of trouble,” you admit.

“How’d you get here?” He asks, and he’s not sure why he even cares.

“I took my bike- well, I stole my brother’s bike which was at one point mine so…”

Billy smiled. You don’t miss it. A little crack of light seeping in from his gruff exterior. He won’t let you see it for too long, but you enjoy it while he does. You’re amusing him, but you don’t feel like the butt of the joke. Maybe, just maybe, he’s warming up to you. Silence falls between the two of you again, the only sounds that fill the void are the turning of the pages in your binder.

He knows he’s wasting his own time, and he’s also wasting yours. He can’t find it in himself to legitimately ask for your help. He doesn’t do that- Hargroves don’t do that. You figure your shit out on your own because no one else is going to care about you, he picked that up from his dad quickly. So, he settles for silence. He’ll flip through the pages of his textbook that he’s still pissed he had to buy, and steal glances at you as you study for yourself.

He remembers you from Hawkins High, and he’s sure you remember him. He wants to know why you’re even still here- last he heard, you were supposed to be going off to one of the Ivy leagues like Harvard or some shit like that. How did you get from there to here? He shouldn’t care, but it’s the most interesting thing he’s had to think about that didn’t revolve around him.

He’d thought about asking you out before, back in high school. He never did. You intimidated him. He didn’t know how to navigate you like he did other people. He also knew with that good head on your shoulders, you’d reject him. And he didn’t want to admit that rejection was something he couldn’t handle. Things aren’t that much different now, except this gift of time together which he’s choosing to squander away.

“Do you want a ride?” he asks as you hand him back his sheet with your signature. The question surprises you, it was something you wouldn’t expect from him. “I could take a look at your car if you wanted- that is something I actually know,” he smirks. Where did this come from? You wonder.

“Uh, yeah- that’d be great,” you say, and he can tell the question caught you off guard. “Will the bike fit?”

“Should,” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You follow him back out of the library to the parking lot. After you unlock the bike from the bike rack, he walks it over to his car for you. He’s able to maneuver it into the truck with just a little effort. Then, he walks over and opens the passenger door for you.

Okay then.

The ride is pretty much quiet except when you need to give him directions. The radio is playing and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along with the song playing. You don’t live too far from the school, not that Billy cared. You’re watching the houses pass by out the passenger window and you don’t see Billy sneaking glances at you occasionally when he thinks he can get away with it. He’d imagined this scenario a few times with you, you in his car with him- maybe he’s driving you home after a date or something, but he’d never admit that. That would show weakness, and he’s not weak.

“You can pull in the driveway next to my car,” you instruct- pointing to your house. He backs in, so it’s easier to get the bike. He doesn’t get your door this time, but he instead goes to get the bike out of his car for you. He rolls it to the side of the house, and rests it against the side carefully. You walk over to your car, and get into the driver’s seat so you can pop the hood.

“Get me rag?” Billy asks, looking over the engine, pulling the dipstick out from its holder. “Have you checked your oil recently?”

“Uh nope,” you admit, a little embarrassed. You disappear into the house for a moment and return with some rags. You can’t help but feel a little nervous- a little ashamed. You didn’t like not knowing things. This was an area where you really didn’t have any confidence and you were anxious that Billy would see that. You were worried he might judge you.

“C’mere, I can show you,” he says, “It’s really simple.” You step closer to him, flush against his side so you can see where he’s working. “Make sure your car has been off for a while so the oil settles in the tank- this is the dipstick- it will show you the level of oil. You wipe it off clean.” He takes the rag and wraps it around the stick and then pulls it through the rag to wipe it completely.

He shows you the end of the stick. “Those two little dots? When you put the stick back in, you want the oil to be somewhere between them. If it doesn’t reach there- you know it’s low.” He puts the dipstick back in position and lets it sit for a few seconds and then pulls it back out. Oil coated the end of the stick and it didn’t come up to the first dot. You frowned.

“Your car probably has a sensor that stops you from starting the car when the oil is low,” he explains. “Which is a good thing, so I think your car is fine.”

“That’s it?” You ask, dumbfounded. “Is it that easy?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I mean- pretty much. Just need to put more oil in,” he shrugs, pleased with himself that you seem to be impressed by him.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, “I’m sorry you came out of your way for something so simple-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he grins. “Least I can do.”

He shows you how to add more oil- even though he knows you’d be able to piece it together yourself. You’re thankful for his instruction anyways- you tend to get nervous about things you’ve never done. Granted, he’s right that it was easy- but still, you didn’t want to mess up your car. You just felt better with him here. When you’re both done, he reaches up to close the hood and you do your best not to stare. He starts your car and the engine roars to life.

You literally jump up and down with excitement. When Billy steps out of the car you don’t even think about it when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist and he smiles, not sure what he did to deserve this much praise- not that he would ever complain being close to you like this. Once you realize what you did, you panic and break away. You stare at the ground, nervously.

“Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly shy. You shove your hands into your back pockets just to give them something to do. Billy smiles, enjoying all of it far too much. He bites his lip watching your body language. He liked that he made you a little nervous. It gave him a little boost of confidence.

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” he flirted.

You open your mouth to respond and your words fail you. This is just so new, this feeling that is beginning to bubble up. This is a side of Billy you don’t think anyone knew existed. It’s making you look at him in a new light, and you don’t know why you are beginning to feel this way. His eyes trail up and down, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your breath hitch. How did you end up like this? You tug anxiously at the sleeves of your sweater.

“So, um,” he licks his lips. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “See ya. Thanks again.”

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atxxzist · 1 year ago

Text

sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

next // series m.list

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#y'all don't even know #the demons i fought #just to get 7k out of my ass #y/n got serious issues #but i hope y'all will still enjoy the drama #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #yunho x reader #fic: sweetestlies

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