#i'm having a moment of weakness. this happens every sunday

[redpill-tfs]

Hey, I was talking to some guys that were coming out of a gym about the red pill and they said that it might help me bulk up a bit since I am scrawny. I don't feel well. I think I took the wrong red pill.

That's strange. I do outsource some red pills to some alpha jock bros every once in a while, so it may have been one of them. Let me check the records and see if there's anything there. It will just take me a few moments.

Ah, yeah I see it. This bro found some weak scrawny liberal guy in front of the gym and thought he needed fixing. That must've been you, bro. It looks like you did take the right red pill, but its effects have been delayed slightly. Usually the transformation should be instantaneous. I guess this one is just taking a bit longer.

According to my notes, the bros thought you might need some help fitting in at the gym. They have a certain image they try to uphold, you see. You should be developing a lot of muscle soon. The biggest biceps you've ever seen, combined with absolutely massive pecs. It'll be tough to find any shirts that fit your new size. You'll probably be able to dead lift 400 pounds easily.

That's not to say you skip leg day, of course. Those massive tree trunks prove otherwise. And your feet will grow in size considerably, up to a size 15. I know some guys will absolutely want to sniff 'em. You probably could make loads of money on those homos. As you should. Being in your thirties can get expensive sometimes.

Your tattered clothes will begin to reform themselves to fit your new dudebro persona as you enter the gym. A solid pair of compression shorts and a red t shirt, perfect for working out in. As a bonus, you'll also receive a red hat. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what it says. It's your favorite slogan after all.

You love wearing that hat, don't you? It shows everyone you mean business and you're not afraid to show your beliefs. Sure you get some looks for it, but fuck those libtards, right? Real men will get the message. That's also why you wear that cross around your neck at all times. What kind of Christian would you be if you didn't show off your faith to everyone? People see you and think "That guy's got it all figured out." They especially love your beard and keep it maintained. The ladies love it!

You head over to the weights as the mental changes kick in more. Your brain slows down a little, not needing a lot of its extra processing power. It's okay though. You'll forget you were ever smart in the first place. You don't need to know much anyway. You only need to focus on a few things anyway for your new life.

Bros, to drink a cold beer with while watching the game. Also someone to spot you while you work out.

Chicks, to fuck of course. Nothing gets you harder than thinking about breeding her and bringing another conservative alpha into the world.

Queers, to stick in their place. They belong under you, a true alpha male, sniffing your feet or sucking you off. No homo, of course.

Faith, to guide your values. You attend church every Sunday without exception. You're on great terms with your pastor, who taught you everything you need to know about being on top.

Trump, to guide your politics. You know RIGHT is right and those communists and illegals just want free stuff from your hard earned money. They may have won some battles in the past, but never the war, and you're excited to see Trump's legacy continue into a second term.

You finish your bench presses, getting ready to meet with your first client of the day. You remember you're a personal trainer at this gym, getting those bros to become even stronger and more dominant.

By the time you get this message, I'm sure the changes will have happened. If that's the case, feel free to ignore this and go about your day, as nothing in this should be new to you. But if you ever see a scrawny looking guy at your gym who looks out of place, I'll send you some red pills just in case. You'll know what to do with them.

[maine-isnt-canadian]

I hate sobriety. The moment I turn 19, best believe I will be hightailing it to the nearest LCBO and getting myself 7 bottles of vodka. And I WILL be drinking behind the wheel.

[sp6ncers]

sunday morning — s reid

summary: reader is struggling on the anniversary of her trauma and spencer tries to comfort her.

spencer reid x fem! reader. angst, fluff? spencer's pov, 2nd person.

song: sunday morning by ethel cain

warnings/content: depression, trauma/ptsd, mentions of abuse & sexual assault (past), self deprecating talk from reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl, angel), non-sexual showering together, allusions to self harm but not really

wc: ~ 2.8k

author's note : hai !! this is my first tumblr fic so pls bare with me while i figure out how everything on this app works 😭 this is a very self indulgent & angsty fic because idk i just wanted to write it to make me feel better about some stuff that happened to me lolol anyway i hope u enjoy & any feedback is appreciated !!! 💞

Spencer is drinking coffee at the kitchen table, a book settled in his hands, when you drag yourself out of the bedroom. His gaze flits away from the book, falling onto your dishevelled form. You don't even look up at him, your eyes staying low as you trudge towards the bathroom, feet dragging on the floor.

His eyebrows furrow in concern, his worried gaze following your journey until the door shuts. The faint click of the lock sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. Sliding a bookmark into place, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the table.

He tries to think logically. Maybe you're just tired. That's a simple, normal explanation. It's not like you'd even done anything to show that something is wrong — yet his gut still tells him that. He's a profiler, after all. He's trained to read body language. And the way you had held yourself as you had passed through was a clear sign of distress.

After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, your eyes somehow even more tired than before. Again, you don't look at him, and his concern only grows.

"Good morning, angel," Spencer says gently, his voice soft and almost cautious.

He gets a barely audible hum of acknowledgment and nothing more as you disappear back into the bedroom, shoulders slumped.

Worry gnaws on his bones with its sharp teeth, making his legs feel weak as he stands up and crosses the apartment to the bedroom. His knuckles tap gently against the slightly open door as he slowly pushes it wider. His eyes fall on your form, curled up small beneath the covers which rise and fall in time with your slow breathing.

Quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, he says your name. But you don't answer.

Spencer knows your struggle with depression; he's known since the third date the two of you went on. He has always been there for you, good days and bad, and he has always been patient and gentle and understanding. He knows what it's like to be stuck in your own mind, bad thoughts like a cage around you. But he's never seen you like this before.

In the time that you have been together — and the two months living with each other — he's witnessed your mental health worsen and become better. He's been by your side when you've had breakdowns and couldn't even leave your apartment. He's researched every possible way to help you feel better. He's done all he could to help you.

But what he's never seen is you so deeply distressed that you can't even say hi to him. Every morning, no matter what, you say hi, or good morning, or ask how he slept. But not today. It worries him, a deep pit forming in his stomach and swallowing him whole.

Carefully, he makes his way over to the bed and sits on the edge. The dip of the mattress beneath his weight makes you look up. He notices the redness in your eyes and the exhaustion on your face. Had you slept at all last night?

"Hey," Spencer says quietly, shifting to sit beside you. "Are you feeling okay?"

You're quiet for a few moments, and he wonders if you just don't feel like speaking today. Of course, that would be fine with him, but he'd much prefer to hear your voice.

"I'm okay," you respond, but the crack in your voice tells him otherwise.

"You sure?" he asks gently. He knows that if he asks if you're sure, you'll tell him you're not really okay. That's how it always goes. He doesn't mind it, but he always wishes you'd just tell him the first time he asks.

The room falls quiet as you push yourself into a sitting position, your back against the headboard. His eyes trace over your face and body language, taking note of the way you wrap your arms around yourself in an almost protective way. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, red-rimmed, the dark bags beneath them prominent. The soft light filtering through the curtains shines against your damp cheeks; it would be beautiful if you weren't so upset. His heart aches, hating how utterly sad and distressed you look. He wants to take away all your pain and bury it in himself rather than in you. He would so much rather be the one suffering with whatever is bothering you than have to see you like this.

Your bottom lip quivers as you manage to force out the word, "No."

Eyes softening, he watches as you sniffle and bring your hands to your face, pressing your palms into your eyes. "What's wrong, baby? Did something happen?" he asks softly. "Or is it just a bad day today?"

You shake your head, wiping your hands down your face as tears begin to fall once again. You take a deep, shaky breath before speaking, your body shuddering as you let the breath out. "No— no, it... it, um..."

You can't seem to put your thoughts into words, your sentences fragmented and unsure. Spencer reaches out a gentle hand, resting it on your shoulder to test the waters. When you don't shy away from his touch, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as his other hand comes up to your hair.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Take your time."

Another deep breath, your body trembling in his embrace as you turn to bury your face against him. He doesn't mind that your tears are soaking through his shirt. He just wants to make you feel better.

"It's..." You don't finish your sentence, instead letting out a quiet sob that breaks Spencer's heart.

Of course, he's seen you cry before. But it's never been this bad. He hates the feelings that build within him, the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to do anything to make you feel better. His mind feels fuzzy, but he knows that's nothing compared to what you must be feeling. He can't even imagine what's going on inside your head right now. Instead of speaking, instead of rushing you to open up, he simply holds you tighter, rubbing your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

The way your body shudders against him with each shaky breath and gasping sob makes him feel sick. He wishes there was something he could do to make you feel better, but all he can think of is to just hold you close.

"I— I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky and breathless.

His eyebrows furrow at your apology. Shaking his head, Spencer holds you tighter. "Why are you sorry?"

He feels the movement of your shrug as you bury yourself further against him. "I'm being stupid," you mumble, your words followed by another pained sob, the sound muffled against him.

"You're not being stupid, angel. Not at all," he assures you. "Whatever is making you feel like this isn't stupid. If it's upsetting you this much, it is not stupid, okay?"

A quiet sound, something akin to a whimper, escapes your lips as you bunch up his shirt in your fists. He knows you need something to ground you. He would let you rip his shirt to shreds if you needed to.

"I want to help you," Spencer continues softly, his hand rubbing slowly over your back. "I want to help you feel better, sweetheart. Can you tell me what's upsetting you, please?"

He doesn't mean to rush you — that's not something he would ever want to do. All he wants is to find out why you're feeling this way and what he can do to help. Seeing you like this, so hurt and broken, is destroying him. It's like a mould, creeping through his body and over each inch of him until his entire being aches.

You hesitate for a few moments, sniffling softly as you pull yourself away from where you had burrowed into his chest. Your hands are harsh as you wipe the tears from your face, fingers digging into your skin. Spencer gently takes your hands in his, pulling them away from your face to prevent you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, don't do that, please," he says gently, holding your hands in his lap and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "I'm right here, okay? You can take as long as you need, but I'd really like to know what has you feeling like this, baby."

The breath you take in is deep and shaky, your body trembling as you sniffle. He reaches up one of his hands, cupping your cheek and gently wiping away your tears. "I love you, my sweet girl. So much. You can tell me anything, okay?"

Nodding, you lean your face into his palm and take a shaky breath. He watches you carefully, his thumb tenderly stroking over your cheek to comfort you. He knows that what you need to say won't be easy, not at all, and he knows you need a few moments to prepare yourself to say it. He waits quietly, patiently, listening to the shuddering breaths you take.

After a few moments, you finally speak. "Two years ago... I, um..."

You speak hesitantly, stumbling over your words as you try to get it out. Spencer's hand slips away from your face, trailing down your arm to hold your hand again. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, he stays silent to let you get this out.

"I was..." You trail off, swallowing nervously. After taking a deep breath, you wipe away your tears and attempt to continue. "I was in a relationship with a guy. He— he wasn't really, um, a good person."

The way you say it makes him nervous; his mind immediately goes to the worst possible places. He gives you another gentle squeeze, his other hand reaching up to carefully tuck your hair away from your damp, tearstained face. His touch is delicate and gentle, hoping he makes you feel better. You've barely even started explaining, but he feels his heart pounding and his throat growing tight with worry.

"We had been together for a— a few months, and... He'd, um, recently started getting kinda... I don't know. He— he'd started saying weird stuff and—"

You cut yourself off with a sniffle, blinking back more tears. Spencer can't imagine how hard this must be for you. His head is a mess, trapped somewhere between unfathomable worry and empathy for you, and anger at the fact that someone had hurt you so badly. He chews on his lip to stop himself from speaking as you brokenly explain what had happened on this day two years ago. His stomach twists, a nauseous feeling rising in his chest as you tell him how that man had violated your boundaries and ignored your protests to what he was doing. Each word is like a knife plunging into his chest, over and over and over. Each hurt little whimper as you recall the story breaks his heart further.

"He—" You sniffle again, blinking harshly as tears paint your skin. "I'm sorry," you mumble, wiping away your tears on your sleeve.

"Don't apologise," Spencer replies gently with a shake of his head as he gives your hand a squeeze. "Take your time, sweetheart."

Taking another trembling breath, you continue in a quiet, broken voice. "There were... there were bruises where h-he had grabbed me. It— it was like a reminder of what happened. I— I know that I should've... I should've ended things before it got that far, but I..." Your voice trails off. He knows what you mean. He's studied human behaviour enough to understand how abusive and manipulative relationships affect someone, making it difficult to leave.

"I just... I didn't know how. And— and I didn't really have anyone to— to go to," you murmur. "And I know... I know it's stupid to still be upset about it... But I just... I can still f-feel his hands on me, and— and I hate it. I— I can't get him off. Please get him off."

Your face crumples as you end your sentence with a sob, your shoulders shuddering. He carefully pulls you back into him, resting your head against his chest. One hand strokes your hair as the other securely wraps around you in the way he knows makes you feel better. His heart is in pieces, completely broken from what you'd told him. You haven't given him too much detail — he doesn't expect you to do that — but what you've said is enough for him to understand. He understands what happened is horrible, and awful, and sickening. He understands that you feel like you can't cleanse yourself from that awful man's touch. He understands that you might still be scared of your trust being broken again.

"It's okay," Spencer whispers, kissing the top of your head. "It isn't stupid to be upset. It's rational. It's normal. What happened to you was terrible, and I am so, so sorry you had to go through that, angel. I hope you know that it wasn't your fault. At all. And I promise you — I promise — you are safe with me."

You sniffle softly, and he can tell you're trying to control your shaky breathing. He continues to gently stroke your hair as his thumb rubs small circles on your waist through the fabric of your sweater. You shift against him, your fist rubbing at your eye.

"I'll never let anything like that happen to you ever again. I promise," he tells you softly, his voice sincere. He really hopes you know that he would never even think of doing that to you, but he understands that you might still be wary. "I love you more than anything."

It's quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being your trembling breaths and occasional sniffles. He continues to hold you against him, trying to bring you comfort. He's glad you told him, and he hopes that you feel better now that you have, at least a little bit. His mind is a mess of emotions, but right now he just wants to focus on helping you calm down. He can deal with his own thoughts once he knows that you're okay. Sure, that isn't exactly a healthy way to deal with things, but he doesn't know what else there is to do.

"Everything hurts," you murmur, your voice muffled against him. He's not exactly sure what you mean, whether you're physically in pain or if it's just emotional turmoil, but either way, he wants to help.

"Do you want me to run you a shower?" he asks quietly. "Or get you a drink? Breakfast?"

"Shower," you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from crying. "Please."

"Of course. Stay here."

Spencer carefully removes his arms from around you, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a soft kiss as he stands up. Heading into the bathroom, he turns on the shower and heats it up to the temperature he knows you like. After turning on the radiator and setting a towel on top to warm up, he walks back into the bedroom to find you looking much more calm than before. Giving you a gentle smile, he takes your hand and helps you up off the bed, guiding you into the bathroom.

Not wanting to overstep or make you uncomfortable, he asks, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Please," you respond softly with a nod.

"Okay," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Should I come in with you, or—"

You give another nod in response before he can even finish the question. Slowly, tenderly, he helps you undress, taking note of the reddish marks on your skin. He assumes they're from where you showered yesterday and desperately tried to cleanse yourself of your ex's touch, your hands harsh and uncaring as you had scrubbed at your skin. His chest feels tight at the thought.

Following suit and undressing himself, he guides you into the shower so that you're standing beneath the warm spray of water. His touch is gentle and caring as he washes your hair the way you'd taught him. He makes sure you're okay before washing your body. Whispering quiet reassurances to you, Spencer rinses the soap suds from your skin and lets you wash his hair with a soft smile on his face. Once you're both finished, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on the top of your head.

"Except you," you murmur, and he almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the shower.

"Hm?" he hums, not sure what you mean.

"Everything hurts, except from you."

[wnbnny]

we can't be friends - l.mh

genre: idol!minho x reader, lovers to exes to lovers

tw: angst, hurt, breaking up, erasing of memories (almost) , mutual pining, did i mention angst, reader is kinda depressed, like two kisses ig

status: delivered !

word count: 4.0k

author's note: aaaa omd it's finally done >< reblogs + likes are appreciated!!

lee minho. your muse, your life, your heart.

he broke your heart one stormy sunday night and you hated him as you watched him leave with tears in both of your eyes.

granted, he did break your heart for your own good, to save you from the dangers of being with him. but you didn't care, not when he was your universe, your world. you would gladly take a bullet for him.

just as he would take a bullet for you.

minho knew leaving would break you, just as much as it would break him, but he needed to do it. life as an idol was already dangerous enough with all the death threats and saesangs, but the moment 'fans' caught even the slightest whiff of you they would hunt you down and hurt you, and minho simply couldn't let that happen. he knew you wouldn't care about all the danger as long as you were with him, but he did. minho would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he had given in to his innermost wants and kept you by his side.

so he left.

november 8th, 2019, 8.46 pm.

"i want to break up." he said, one sunday night. the rain was pouring outside, flashes of thunder and lightning ringing through the sky occasionally. in the quiet and comfort of your shared apartment, with the dim glow of lamps illuminating your features, in that moment, for a split second, minho wanted to stay. he wanted to pretend everything was alright, to have you stay by his side and be happy together, but he knew he shouldn't. the two of you were eating dinner, sitting at the small round dining table in your kitchen tucking into your homemade kimchi stew. god, he would miss your kimchi stew, he thought miserably. 

"what?" your world felt like it had stopped, your hand frozen in place as you slowly tilted your head to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you.

"i... want to break up." he repeated robotically.

"minho, where is this coming from? did i do something wrong? please... just talk to me," you begged, panic starting to flood your mind as tears threatened to spill over. you couldn't believe what he had just said. the both of you had been perfectly fine before, the both of you were happy, why was he doing this? were you not good enough for him? did he fall in love with someone else? the thought alone made you weak.

"i just... it's for the best. i'm putting you in danger every day, fans will hurt you if they find out i'm with you. i can't let that happen."

"i don't care if they try to hurt me, minho. as long as i'm with you, it’s- " you reached for his hand, and could feel your heart finally sinking to the bottom as you saw his face, screwed into an expression of hurt and resignation as he shook his head.

"just... don't forget me in the future, okay?" before you could say anything, minho was already out of his seat, grabbing his coat and his phone, already reaching for the front door.

"wait! minho-" you jumped out of your seat in alarm and desperation, clinging to his arm as he looked back at you with a pained expression. 

"please- we can work this out, just don't leave me," you pleaded, tears already cascading down your face. you must've looked a pathetic mess in that moment, sniffling and sobbing, yet minho still thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist as he memorised your face for one last time.

finally, minho turned around, cupping your face in his hands. your hands reached up to hold his, as he memorised your every detail for the last time. minho's lips found their way to your forehead, then the corner of your eyes, then your lips as he kissed you tenderly for the last time as you sobbed in his arms.  

"i'm sorry." he whispered, before pushing you back as you cried out and stumbled backwards, opening the door, walking out of the apartment and out of your life.

december 25th, 2019, 11.28 pm. 

your diary.

i still think of you, you know. i still see your face in the windows of that cafe shop we used to go to whenever i pass by. i know you're not in there, and i'm hallucinating. i can't go in there anymore, not without thinking of you. i can't even watch the television anymore without having to see your face. listened to your new comeback. that song was about me, wasn't it? 

it's christmas now. i adopted some presents for you. you would love them, the three cats. i named them soongie, doongie, and dori. quite fitting, they're playful like you. they'll never meet their father. i still wore your hoodie, the green one i always wore every christmas. you used to wear my red hoodie, but i guess you won't be here to wear it anymore. it still smells like you. 

i still wonder why you left. was such a pathetic excuse as me potentially being hurt the only reason why you would leave me? you knew i didn't care if i was hurt, so long as i was with you. you still left. i hate you for that, but deep down i could never hate you. i still love you.

january 7th, 2020, 2.35 pm.

you strolled down the busy streets of seoul, a long oversized fluffy coat resting on your shoulders and your nose pink from the cold. a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you finally stepped foot into the cozy ambience of a random cafe alongside the road, the warm air blowing gently at you helping to relieve the coldness settling into your bones. ordering a latte and a small cake which were promptly delivered to your table, you settled down to scroll through the news.

new technology developed, scientists say new machinery can effectively target and erase memories of specific people and objects. is now being offered at multiple mental health clinics nationwide at a low cost, guaranteed 90% success rate. for sign-ups and further information, please contact...

you raised your eyebrows at the news, marvelling slightly at how advanced technology seemed to be developing at this rate. thinking nothing of it, you simply continued scrolling.

january 7th, 2020, 12.02 pm.

you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, tired from a day of work and countless emails sent. feeling a warm, soft head poke it's way under your arm, you smiled softly, hand reaching out to scratch doongie's head as he meowed in content. smiling softly, you felt two large lumps jump onto your bed and settle on you, soongie choosing to settle on your feet and dori choosing to burrow his way under you arm as you giggled. 

"soongie, you're so heavy," you laughing light-heartedly as your oldest cat let out a 'meow' of indignation at your words. 

minho would love the cats so much...

your smile drooped, feeling that warm familiar sensation pricking at your eyes again. 

god, how stupid. it had been two months already and you were still hung up on him. everywhere you went, you saw his face, on advertisments at the bus stop, billboards in the shopping districts, to even advertisments on youtube, and every single time your old memories with minho would surface and you would miss him again.

memories...

oh. the news of the memory erasure experiment.

would it hurt to try? you tried imagining forgetting minho. for him to just be another face on the billboard, a random k-pop idol to you. to forget you had ever even loved him and forget that he ever loved you. the pain would be gone. your heart would no longer ache each day, you would no longer think of him and he would no longer cloud your mind.

picking up your phone, your finger hovered above the 'call' button.

"hello? this is the seoul medical psychiatry clinic speaking. how may i help you?"

"i..." you paused, gnawing at your bottom lip.

"i would like to make an appointment."

january 19th, 2020, 1.28 pm.

"welcome! do you have a booked appointment?" the receptionist greeted cheerfully as you stepped into the reception and seating area of the clinic, a large box full of items in your hands. the hallways were filled with posters and quotes, the beanbags and seats painted in warm and soothing colours. 

"yes, doctor kim at 1.35pm." you answered, watching as the receptionist typed a few words into her computer.

"ah yes, under the name yoon y/n, right?" she clicked her tongue, "for... memory erasure?" she glanced at you with a look full of sympathy, as if you were some lost wounded puppy. 

"yes." you confirmed, lips pursing together slightly as you stared down at the box.

"good, and you've got your box of items already. do double check to make sure they are linked to that specific person only, we wouldn't want any erasure of other memories woth different people."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"yeah, i have." 

"great, we'll be calling for you later, the doctor will run you through the procedure and then the operation will commence. take a seat first," she gestured to the seating area. not long after, you heard your name.

"yoon y/n?" 

you hurriedly stood up, making your way towards the nurse and following her into the operation room. the operation room was white and cold, lacking any warmth and colour, filled with odd looking machinery and lab coats and tools. you were sat down on a chair, and your box of items given to the nurse who began taking them out one by one while another nurse attached a few wires to your skin to a machine on the right which measured your heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump. the first nurse began to place your items in a row, scanning each one under a machine.

beep.

minho's green hoodie.

beep.

the snow globe the both of you had bought together at a winter festival.

beep.

polariods of you and him.

beep.

a cat plushie you had gifted him in celebration of his lastest comeback before he had left.

beep.

matching mugs the two of you had bought.

minho. everything, everywhere, everyone reminded you of minho. it felt like you were drowning, consumed by him.

"alright, i'll be placing the device on your head. the device will take you through individual memories of the person, but you will have to re-experience certain bigger core memories again as those take a longer time to process. if at any point should you feel distressed or want to stop, please press the red button beside you, and should you want to restore your memories we will reload them back into your brain. however, if you choose not to restore the memories, we will automatically delete them after 30 days." the doctor explained, showing you a strange contraption with two pulse points connecting to either side of your temple.

beside you, the heart rate measured by the machine started beeping faster.

you nodded. 

the cold, tingly terminals of the device connected with either side of your temples, the unfamiliar feeling odd and alienating. 

then all turned black.

"min! look, they have matching mugs! we should get them," you pointed excitedly to two mugs at a stall in a summer fair you and minho had just happened to pass by. you watched as your old self pointed to the mugs happily, "the world's best boyfriend" and "the world's best girlfriend" written on each mug respectively. "that's so cheesy," minho said, a grin on his face as he pulled you close to him by your waist. well, the old minho in your memories. it felt like a punch in the gut yet the cure to your pain as you stared at his face again in your re-lived memory, his oh-so-familar grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. "yeah, but it's cute!" you exclaimed, turning to face minho. "pleaseeee," you begged, lips downturned in a pout and your eyes shining hopefully as you tugged on his arm. "fine," minho groans, eventually giving in into your request, feigning annoyace by rolling his eyes yet still smiling at your delighted expression. 

god, you missed him so much.

the memory shifted, warping into another blurry picture.

this time, it was another memory that faded in, a memory of you and him sitting in the living room unwrapping your christmas presents. minho tore open his box eagerly, laughing as he held up a green hoodie from his favorite brand gifted to him by you, coupled with some other things like perfume and a brand new wallet. "oops... might've gifted you an accidental matching hoodie by accident," he smiled sheepishly, as you opened your present, some jewelry with . "a red hoodie! now we can match," you snickered, pulling the soft hoodie over your head and slipping it on. "hey, we look like the christmas colours!" you laughed, pouncing on him and tackling him down to make him wear his one as he whined in protest. eventually you did managed to get him to put it on and pose for some pictures, albeit him being disgruntled but still giving in to you anyways.

a tear trickled down your face, landing on your lap as your hands on the chair tightened, gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles started turning white.

the memory started to fade away.

"min! the new comeback was so good, i watched the music video just now," you exclaimed, bounding up to him the moment he opened the front door to your shared apartment. "thanks baby," he smiled, leaning in for a quick peck but suddenly finding a soft plushie being thrust into his hands. it was a plush of a brown and white striped cat, soft to the touch and extremely squishable. "what's this for?" he raised eyebrow, cocking his head in confusion as he stared at you. "it's to celebrate your comeback, I figured i'd give you something to cuddle when i'm not around you," you smiled, "i named the cat mr sprinkles." "who names a plush toy mr sprinkles?" minho laughs, watching as you huff at him about how the name was cute and he was being mean. "thank you though, i appreciate it," he kissed you softly, smiling at the small act of love.

no, stop-

you started to whimper and thrash around.

fade to black again.

"min, look," minho turned to you as you were admiring the ornaments at a booth, the both of you coming across a christmas market and deciding to explore it. "it's a snow globe of us," you pointed out to a small snow globe, with a man and women as figurines in the center of the snow globe and fake snow swirling in the water around them. "it does look like us, doesn't it?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you subconsciously leaned into him. "we should get it," he suggested, smiling at how your eyes lit up and how you pressed a kiss to his cheek. the two of you purchased the item, and then bought some hot chocolate to sip on to relieve the cold setting into your bones. "jagi-ah," minho called, prompting you to look up at him before gasping in surprise. the first snow of the season. "you know, they say the person you witness the first snow with will be with you for a long, long time." minho grinned, leaning down to kiss you tenderly before intertwining your hands. 

you didn't want to forget him, you realized, as you gasped for air, heartbeat skyrocketing as you tried to open your mouth to scream. no, you would never want to forget minho. you would rather cling onto those memories and deal with the pain forever than never having remembered him.

the memory faded.

you gasped in surprise as you ripped open the box, holding up a brand-new, shiny polariod camera wrapped in a gift box, its paper shreds used to cushion the camera hapazardly strewn about the floor.  minho watched you with a small smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he happily obliged to any pose you wanted to do with him, groaning half-heartedly but still laughing at the silly faces you made.

the memory started to fade again.

"STOP!" your finger found the red button, desperately pressing it in an attempt to get the machine to start working. all of a sudden, you were jolted back into your consciousness in the middle of the white sterile room again, heaving and gasping for air as you tried to adjust back to the surroundings. 

"are you okay? do you need to stop the operation?" the nurse asked, a concerned look on her face. beside you, the machine was beeping, a erratic rhythm.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

your hand reached up to fiddle with your necklace, looking left and right. you swallowed, a lump in your throat.

"yes."

----------

you stumbled out the clinic, hands clutching onto the box of items tightly as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun. 

hands shaking, you pulled out your phone.

'my love,' the contact at the top of the screen read. you hadn't called him in months, ever since he had broken up with you. you has tried for a few weeks, but day after day of missed calls was heartbreaking.

you pressed the button.

one ring.

two rings.

three rings.

four rings...

"hello?"

a voice you hadn't heard for months. a voice you had only been hearing in your dreams.

"minho-" a strangled sob left your lips.

"please." you could only force out a choked plea, tears falling rapidly, stumbling onto a nearby bench. people started at you as they walked by, a woman breaking down in a random street in seoul oddly disconcerting.

"where are you? i'll come get you." the moment you heard the concern laced in his voice, your eyes brimmed with more unshed tears, stifling a sob that threatened to escape. in the background, you could hear the sound of things being knocked over, presumably minho rushing to get to you.

you told him your location in between shaky breaths, occasional hiccups interrupting your sentence. 

"just wait for me, ok? don't move anywhere," minho firmly instructed, voice soft and calming.

a few minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found.

he would hate you for this, you realized. you didn't deserve him. he tried so hard to keep you safe, and how did you repay him? by almost erasing all memories of him. the thought of it just broke your heart even more, for if he knew what you had tried to do he would never want to have anything to do with you again.

"y/n!" you heard a voice yell, whipping around only to see minho running to you at full speed.  you had never been more glad to see him, your knees instantly buckling as you collapsed into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. 

you didn't think you would ever get used to this feeling, you thought. his touch, warmth, his gentle strokes of your hair and whispered sweet nothings were like music to your ears, his hand coming up to rest on your back and his other coming up to gently stroke your hair as he swayed you back and forth. he had clearly just ran from dance practice, you realized, slightly sweaty and panting ever so slightly. 

"what's wrong, jagi?" he murmured, soft brown eyes searching your own red and teary ones.

"i- i didn't want to remember you because it was too painful, and then i tried to erase my memories of you, but i realized i didn't want to and i really, really, really fucking miss you and it hurts-" your rambling was cut off by a hiccup, lips quivering as you stared back into his eyes.

here comes the part where he realizes your a disgusting bitch and hates you forever, you thought miserably.

"shh, it's ok," minho pulled you closer, engulfing you in his warmth as his hand rose up to cup your cheek.

what?

he was supposed to hate you, not do... this. you literally tried to erase all memories of him, he should be angry and offended, so why...?

nonetheless, you would take what you could get in what you assumed to be your last moments with him, so instead you leaned into his touch, memorising his every detail again. his soft brown eyes framed with delicate lashes, sharp nose and jawline, the pink rosy tint to his cheeks as the winter wind whipped around you.

"i'm sorry," you begged, "just don't hate me."

"i never did, silly." minho laughed softly, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

"but you left me." you said, confused.

"i left you because i loved you. it was just for your own safety, i didn't care about anything else," minho explained, brows furrowing slightly.

oh.

minho stumbled backwards as you crashed into him with a force, nearly knocking him over as you crashed your lips onto his, hands threading through his soft silky hair and teeth knocking against his. it was a heated, messy kiss, teeth clashing and tears streaming down your face, yet minho didn't seem to mind as he deepened the kiss with a fervour, all seeming to pour out of him, pain and regret, relief and want. it is only when you seperate with a gasping breath of air that you finally see his swollen, reddened lips.

“i’ll figure something out, i’ll talk to the company, make a statement or something- i won’t let anyone get to you, i promise,” he rambled, a giddy smile on his face. right now, minho could care less about the repercussions, even if he had to move mountains just to be by your side and keep you safe at the same time. 

you giggled, an infectious laugh bubbling out of you. the both of you, crying in the middle of a street, hands intertwined and both a mess, yet you had never been happier with the person you truly loved. 

“we'll be alright now.” you whispered. it wasn’t just a statement but a promise, one to keep forever.

december 25th, 2020, 1.43 pm.

“min! come look!” you squealed in delight, eyes lighting up when you were finally done. minho glanced over, and sure enough, you were up to mischief again, the three cats dressed in ugly christmas sweaters with cartoonish designs on them and matching hats on their heads. doongie let out a ‘meow’ of indignation, protesting as minho roared with laughter to scoop him and his fellow cats up. laughter bubbling out of your lips, you quickly grabbed your phone to take a picture of minho and the three cats, his face lighting up in amusement as he watched them try to squirm out of his grasp. 

“i love you, you know that?” minho says that night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch with the cats, watching your favourite seasonal christmas movies together and snacking on popcorn.

“i don’t say it enough, partly because i’m not good at expressing myself, but i love you. your smile and personality and everything. just thought you should know.” the tips of his ears are red as he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

you smile, a red tint blossoming across your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“i love you too min.” 

how did you ever get so lucky? you think, leaning in to rest your head on minho’s shoulder as you resumed watching the movie, one hand absentmindedly scratching dori’s head as he purrs in contentment. here, in the dim light of the cozy apartment with minho, love heavy in the air around you two and christmas lights twinkling merrily, you think you have everything you have ever wanted in life.

after all, it didn't really matter where you were, as long as minho was by your side.

taglist: @starseungs @missmajdastark @jazziwritesthings @layviyu @lailac13 @ana-marais98 @foxinthewild @dandelions-143 @rylea08 @linocz @minseongsworld @realrintaro @kkamismon12 @felinows @baribaaari

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Sunday Affection hc's

I have now played 2.2, no spoilers though

If you're the kind of person that really likes spontaneity, Sunday probably isn't the person for you...

He's got about five itineraries going at once

What meals are being prepared, the clothing you'll wear through the week, exactly what days chores need to be done on, all on top of his meetings and other droning work

So, pretty much all dates and outings are preplanned down to the most insignificant details, ensuring everything runs perfectly

Sunday needs control of his environment

Any little hitch could be a potential threat to your safety!

Chances are, most of the outings and time spent together outside of your shared home, is done in the dreamscape, where he has complete control

Lovely little picnics with the most exquisite view of the beautiful dreamscape sky, or any view you want really, will be off limits to everyone else (except maybe a few trusted dreamweavers, in order to ensure nothing happens)

He's an anxious mess, though he hides it well, every time anyone else approaches you for any reason, his arm around you always, pulling you right into him so he's prepared

That being said, he does truly enjoy going out with you

Walking around the dreamscape, holding your hand or linking arms as he watches all of your perfect reactions with a soft smile, tightening his hold a little when he worries you might run off...

His eyes rarely leave your face in those moments, as if trying to memorize every little micro expression

"I'm merely curious on what you find most pleasing. We're always looking for guest feedback, love." He'll tell you with a reassuring little quirk of his lips, as if his eyes don't soften every time you smile

He's partly true to his word, taking mental notes of everything you like to implement it further, and maybe even make a particular little slice of the dreamscape all for you

One where you can live happily forever, with every little thing you could ever want... It consumes his mind most waking hours

Affection wise he's always very reserved in public, and even embarrassed easily in private at the beginning

That fades soon enough, with him happily taking every opportunity to remind you how much he loves your sweet smile

He unconsciously covers the two of you kissing with his wings, as if creating a little shield, even in private

His wings in particular are known to show his emotions far more than his practiced expressions, twitching and fluttering and even flapping right in front of his face when surprised

When annoyed they'll fluff a little, and when really angry they look as sharp as blades

In public he usually kisses your hand, looking up into your eyes while doing so in a way that feels far too intimate

A lot of his public acts are subtle, adopting your walking pace, keeping a close eyes on your heart rate, gently guiding you when you stray a bit, glaring at anyone who gets too close

He'll probably always default to big spoon, to holding you and comforting you and dote on you

He just wants your happiness, your satisfaction, your safety...

Everything he does is for you

During the beginning of your relationship, he tenses at every little unexpected noise

Being the partner of a powerful figure can be dangerous!

It's not his fault he lays awake at night, watching your breath with unblinking eyes, grappling with these horribly overwhelming feeling of desperation

You need to be safe. You need to be safe.

He's not particularly fond of having his eyes off of you, but the eyes of trusted bodyguards will have to suffice for when he has no choice...

This is especially true with the fear of "death" in the dreamscape at it's peak... You won't spend a single second out of his sight, if he lets you enter the dreamscape at all

The strong should protect the weak, it's his responsible to protect you, in every way possible, no matter what, forever...

He loves you, an overwhelming amount, a truly heartbreakingly tragic amount

No matter what, he hopes you'll love him too

[thefactsofthematter]

hello newsies tumblr! i’m back to post a scene i found in a random wip folder, from a fic that will probably never exist in full lol

please enjoy some sad canon era javid <3

-

"...and I know we don't pray the same way, you and I, but your folks said you might not mind it if I sat with you and did this. Only one God, ain't there, so I figures we can ask Him for all the help we can get, every which way. Ain’t no harm in extra prayers."

That's Jack's voice.

David is awake, sort of, but too tired to open his eyes. His body is itchy, but he's too tired to scratch himself. His throat burns, so he doesn't dare try and speak.

He just lays there.

"This was my Ma's." He's placing something in David's hand. A string of beads, it feels like. "I should take the time to sit and pray it more often. She carried it everywhere. Only thing I've got left of her, really."

He wraps the beads around David's palm.

"You start at the bottom, see," Jack continues, as if he knows David's listening, "and you say a prayer for every bead. And you gotta have an intention, right— mine for today is that I'm asking God to get you better, 'cause you're starting to scare everyone, Dave, what with how you just keep getting sicker and the fever won't break. We can't go losing you anytime soon, so you've gotta get yourself better as soon as you can."

He's very sick, David realizes. That's why he can't move.

He's a bit scared.

But it's hard to stay scared for long with Jack Kelly holding your hand, so he starts to feel calm again.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," Jack murmurs.

David hadn’t realized Jack knew Latin. Wonders where he learned it, since he would've left school before the grades they started teaching it. He only went to school until he was eight— he told David that.

"Credo in Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae..."

Jack continues on in words that David's tired brain can't make sense of, but it's rhythmic and soothing. There's a cadence to it like Jack doesn't actually know what he's saying, has just memorized the sounds, probably at church— it's like how David felt about some Hebrew prayers when he was little, just echoing back what he heard others speak.

From bead to bead, Jack mumbles quiet prayers, and David finds himself, somewhere in his fever-addled brain, feeling quite charmed and grateful that Jack would show him this private, vulnerable side of himself. His faith is deeply personal to him, David knows— it's there in the way he never puts on his arrogant show towards the nuns, the way he's quick to take his cap off even on the steps of the church, the way he scrubs the littlest newsies into their very best shape on Saturday nights and drags them to mass on Sunday mornings. David loves to watch him in those short moments before he eats his dinner each day, lips moving silently as he gives thanks.

It's a softer side of Jack Kelly that often stays well-hidden, but makes itself very endearing when it peeks through.

"I think I might be praying for a miracle," Jack sighs, after a long time of quiet whispering, counting along the beads. His voice is a bit shaky now. "But they happens, you know. They said so in the good book. I know it's the very same God lookin' after you and I, and I know He loves you and won't take you away from us here on Earth, not just yet. Ain't your time."

And he takes the beads from David's palm, replacing them with his own hand. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes.

David tries to squeeze back. It's weak, pitiful, but enough for Jack to gasp.

"I knew it," he whispers. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it, Dave. You're there, ain't you? You're listening."

And David wishes he could give him anything more, but he can feel sleep creeping up on him again, so he lets it come. Not much else he can do, but it's nice to hear some hope in Jack's voice.

[bbgnyx]

Hi babe it's me leigh ✌ Saw your song requests like 10 secs ago so 👀👀

song name: in the stars by benson boone

song lyric: and now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

pairing: minho x female reader

disc: the reader dies and minho is just devastated and he cries for the first time in front of everyone and stays ☹️ (I'm bad at descriptions save me-)

Anyway thx for reading!!!

a/n: omg babe this song has been running in my head recently so this request was like you read my mind 😭✋. This was so sad to write honestly, hope it matches what you had in mind!

my taglist is open btw, just message me if you wanna be part of it!!

And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far~

genre: angst

warnings: very sad, church and god are mentioned, mentions of blood and death, indirect mention of cancer, mention of a funeral. lmk if I miss anything

Sunday mornings used to hold so much joy for Minho. It was the one day he could spend with you, and it filled his heart with happiness. The two of you would go on adorable picnics, visit malls, and sometimes even attend church together. He couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked with your hair up and that radiant smile on your face. Minho was a softie, but only when it came to you.

He remembers the times when he would get jealous of you because Soonie Doongie and Dori seemed to love you more than him. He cherishes the memories of cuddling up in bed with you, watching movies together. Every little thing about you, he adored. You were his angel. But now, Sunday mornings are no longer his favorite. Not after everything that has happened.

When he was with you, Sunday mornings held a different meaning. Now that you're gone, Minho knows that nothing will ever be the same again. If he doesn't have concerts or practice, he simply sleeps in, avoiding going out because it only brings back painful memories. He has even lost his faith in God, burying it alongside you, deep beneath the earth.

Minho has lost count of how many times he has stood there, screaming at God, questioning why the love of his life was taken away from him. Why did God seem to hate him so much, leaving him to suffer like this? He is constantly lost in his thoughts, not knowing what else to do but cry himself to sleep, knowing that you will never be there to comfort him again.

Minho still remembers the day you were admitted into the hospital, they said you were okay, they said you only had to go through a small surgery. All of it were lies. That day, Minho’s band had won an award, but he couldn’t even relish the happiness as he soon got a call from your mother.

“She’s in a critical stage, she has lost a lot of blood, the doctors don’t know if they can save her”, your mom said sobbing through the phone. At that moment, it took Minho his everything not to leave the award show immediately and fly back home to you. He had been crying all day and all night, worried about you. He should be there with you, he thought.

On Sunday, he took the award and flew back to you as soon as possible. Only to be informed that you’re gone, you’re not with him anymore. You had passed away.

Minho remembers the day of your funeral. The weight of your absence crushed him, burying his heart alongside you, six feet under the ground. “It’s okay Minho, she loves you with all her life,” your mother said, trying to console him. He felt weak and helpless then.

All these pent-up emotions let loose at his most recent concert. You had always told him to show his emotions to others, not to close his heart away. So he cried, he cried like he had lost everything and he did. He lost you, and you were his everything, you were the earth and he was the moon and now he didn’t have anything to revolve around. On that stage, he crumbled, his fellow members offering solace, while fans shed tears alongside him, showering him with words of comfort.

It felt as though he had loved you for an eternity, but he realized that the time he spent with you was merely a fraction of his lifetime, while you had loved him throughout your entire existence. This realization shattered him to his core. How was it fair? You had promised to always be by his side, to never leave him alone. And you kept that promise, remaining faithful even in death. But what about him? He wasn't there when you underwent surgery, he wasn’t there through your suffering and he wasn't even there when you took your final breath.

He felt stupid not to realise that you were suffering. He hated that you hid your condition from him. He always wondered why you asked him what he would do if you weren’t there. He always replied, “I’ll protect you so nothing ever happens to you, my love”. But now he couldn’t protect you and that broke him, and it would break him till he took his last breath and he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish that day came soon so he could see you again. But all he knows now is that he loved you, loves you and will continue loving you.

[barcalover86]

Can we please get sick gavi being looked after by his girl and he’s just pouty and sad but she fully babies him? 🥹 your writing is so good your updates make my day!!

Sacrifice

Thank youu!!

Masterlist

Pablo wasn't feeling too well today, since morning when you woke up next to him you noticed that he was acting different.

You asked him if he was okay and he only told you that he is just feeling a little dizzy, but only because he didn't eat enough, which you believed.

It was the Sunday after a game and it was his day off. You talked a few days before that you were going to visit his parents today and go to some party together, but now you were eating and Pablo seemed like he only got worse.

"Amor, you don't look too well. Please tell me, does something hurt you because it's clearly not the hunger anymore?"

"I don't know, I just feel...weak? I don't even have the strength to stand up now" he laughed, but you were serious.

"No joking, Pablo! Let's go to the couch and I'll see what I can get you to feel better"

He did as you said, and you tried to look for some special medicinel (anti-doping). There weren't many options, so you decided to give him some tea, hoping it would make him feel better.

"I don't have any pills for you so I'm just gonna go buy some, ok? Wait for me here, I'll be back. Drink your tea!!" you said to him while kissing his forehead, which was kinda more hot than his normal temperature.

You looked at him in awe, with a sad face. He only smiled back at you and thanked you.

"Come back quickly, please." he laughed and your rolled your eyes.

You went to buy him some plants medicine and some things to make him a soup. When you got back, Pablo was still on the couch, but now he was sleeping. He was sweating like crazy and he was really red which made you a bit scared.

You tried to prepare him a glass of water, seeing that he finished his tea, to give him the pills you bought, without making any loud noises to wake him up.

"Cariño, wake up a second, please!" you said gently, touching his face slowly.

"Hmmmmm" he said with a crying voice.

"Is it that bad, Pablito?" you asked him while giving him the glass of water.

He only nodded and you touched his forehead and cheeks, feeling the hotness from his skin. You made a sad face, seeing your boyfriend that sick, made you really scared and in that moment, all you wanted to do was to take his pain away.

You kissed his cheek and helped Pablo to go to sleep again, telling him that after 2 hours, you would wake him up to eat some soup.

Pablo was sleeping peacefully while you were preparing the food for him and when it was ready, you woke him up again to help him eat.

He had tears in his eyes, saying to you that it was hard for him to breath and that he is feeling really hot. You gave him a towel that you put in really cold water to put it on his forehead and cheeks, so that he would feel a bit better. It helped him a lot and you gave him another pill, hoping that it would help him even more.

You called his parents to say that you can't make it today and they understood, hoping for their boy to be healthy again. They were really thankful for you, taking care of their son.

You as well called Xavi to tell him that Gavi is not feeling well and he might miss some of his training sessions.

Now you were on the couch, playing with Gavi's hair while he was holding your hand, sleeping. You didn't do anything for hours, only watching him.

He was sleeping a lot, that being the only think he could do, without being in pain. Every hour, you would change his towel to another and at every 3 hours, you wpuld give him his medicine again with a cup of tea with honey.

That night, you hadn't slept at all. You only watched him sleep on you. You wanted to be sure that nothing happened to him.

You did everything to make him feel better. You even helped him shower in the morning so that he wouldn't feel the hotness for some time. You would make him food that helped him recover quickly and were sure to give him enough protein to not lose that much of his muscles. He had to return soon to his training so you tried to prepare him a bit.

You would stay with him all the time, him being really clingy now. Always cuddling with you, sleeping on your lap, or holding one of your fingers. You were always there for him, and he was so thankful for having you in his life.

It wasn't easy to look out for Gavi, but you really loved him, and for every sacrifice you did to stay beside him, you knew he deserved it.

I hope you liked it!!! Have a nice day love youu

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 11

"I never said that!" "Yeah well I don't get off on repeat rejection so I'll just go."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @siriuslymooned @cc-luvr @crypticsewerslut @icarus-star @desert-springtime @shady-the-simp @izuoyarmin

SUNDAY, 12:30AM

The games continued and Y/n continued to drown her sorrows in whatever Lola and Beau were pouring in her solo cup. Clyde kept his eyes on her trying to get her to come back and sit with him but she wouldn't budge. Snow picked up on the vibe and kept trying to make cute comments but the only response she seemed to get was a huff or forced smile.

"Ohhh! Never have I ever made it to third base in the closet." Y/n happened to glance up and watched Clyde put his finger down. Something in her gut caught fire and she let out a loud HA! that startled everyone.

"So you will hook up in the closet, just not with me." Y/n shook her head and Clyde blushed.

"Y/n..." Snow reached out but Y/n was already fighting angry tears. She hated being someone who cried when they got angry. They made her feel weak.

"Wait, you too haven't hooked up yet? How is that possible?" Beau slurred.

"Beats me. I guess I'm just not your friends type or he just finds me absolutely hideous." Y/n started getting up but got the spins.

"Can you just wait?" Clyde reached out but she pulled away.

"I got the message Clyde. Loud and clear. You guys have been great but I think it's time I head out." The group groaned and kept trying to get her to stay but she ran out of the apartment, heading back to Clyde's. Luckily he left the door unlocked so she could gather her few things. She heard the door open and shut not too long after she had pushed it shut.

"Hey! Please stop okay?" Clyde put his hands up trying to stay out of Y/n's way as she aggressively tossed her things into her bag.

"You could have told me you didn't like me Clyde. We could have been great friends but you let me throw myself out you like an idiot and now I've humiliated myself in front of your friends." Y/n shouted, watching Clyde reach for his aid like he was adjusting it or turning the volume down. She made a note to lower her voice.

"Please just stop and talk to me okay? I know you're upset and that its my fault but you can't just take off. You've had too much to drink-" Clyde tried to calm the situation but Y/n shook her head.

"I'm not wasted Clyde. I can Uber to a hotel and you can enjoy the rest of your weekend." Y/n put the strap of her bag on her shoulder but Clyde moved in front of the door.

"So you think because I'm not taking advantage of you that I'm not interested in you?" Clyde asked wanting more clarification.

"Honestly I don't know what you want. I have made multiple advances on you and you've turned me down every time." Clyde frowned.

"I mean...you saw me naked for Christ sake..." Y/n looked down at her feet and Clyde stepped towards her.

"Y/n..." Clyde reached out to take her hand.

"You've clearly brought others back and thought they were hot enough to fuck in a closet so..." Y/n wanted to take comfort in Clyde squeezing her hand but she didn't.

"I never said that." Clyde defended.

"Yeah well I don't get off on repeat rejection so I'll just go." Y/n pulled her hand from Clyde's to walk past him but the moment she had her back to him, he spun her around, slamming her back against the door but putting his hand up quickly so her head would hit his hand and not the door.

Now Y/n was surprised. This was the most aggressive Clyde had been since they started hanging out.

"You think I just bring girls back like this? Like you're just some random groupie I happened to pick up at one of the shows to bring back and fuck?" Clyde's tone was strong. He wanted Y/n to understand him.

"I don't know Clyde. I don't know anything about you. We've slept in the same bed, spent the entire day together, I let you know where I live, I let you see me naked! I'm acting like some crazy obsessed fangirl and that's not who I am!" Clyde watched Y/n getting upset and felt awful.

"I like you. I like spending time with you and making you laugh. I've barely spent two days with you and it's been some of the most fun I've had in a long time and I'm ruining everything." Y/n covered her face in embarrassment and Clyde pulled at her hands.

"You aren't ruining anything. Please don't cry." Clyde pleaded.

"No I am ruining everything. I get drunk and become this jealous, blubbering idiot as if I have some sort of stake on you and you haven't even tried to kiss-" Clyde cut her off, lips on hers, free hand resting gently on her throat. Y/n wasn't expecting it in the slightest so when his tongue dipped between her lips, she moaned. He tasted like rum and cigarettes and kissed like he was trying to pull oxygen directly from your lungs. When Clyde pulled away, he briefly rested his forehead against hers, opening his eyes to see hers were still closed.

"I don't bring girls like you home. You aren't some groupie hanging around the band, settling to fuck around with the guy who drives them around. You're you and that is...so much more." Clyde swallowed the lump in his throat and Y/n opened her eyes.

"Clyde..." Y/n wanted to respond but suddenly pushed Clyde away from her, throwing up mere inches from his shoes. That was not what Clyde was expecting either but he immediately started to help her.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Y/n kept repeating mortified. Clyde helped her to the bathroom where she collapsed in front of the toilet, continuing to wretch. Clyde pulled her hair back and used one of his wrist ties to keep her hair from falling into the puke. He held a washcloth under the faucet and held it to the back of her neck while he rubbed her back.

"Y/n? Clyde?" Snow called out.

"Is that vomit?" Lola gagged and ran back out of the room.

"Snow! Give me a hand." Clyde called out, hearing Snow practically sliding across the floor. She stopped at the door and saw the state of Y/n and frowned.

"Aw babe." Snow felt awful for her.

"I've got her, go." She tried to politely rush Clyde out but he didn't want to leave her.

"Trust me, no girl wants the person she's into seeing her like this. I promise I've got her. Just make sure she'll have someplace clear of puke to sleep." Snow put her hand on Clyde's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze before shutting the door in his face.

[steviesbicrisis]

It starts out as any other Sunday morning. Eddie takes his time to come out of his room and finds his uncle already in the kitchen, the usual cup of coffee in his hand.

“‘Morning son” Wayne greets him, looking up from the newspaper.

“‘Morning” mumbles Eddie, still half asleep.

Per usual, Wayne tells him about stuff that happened to him during the week, since he works night shifts and they don’t get much time to talk except on Sundays.

“Oh, you won’t believe what I witnessed on Thursday night” Wayne begins, catching Eddie’s interest “we were grabbing something for dinner when I caught this piece of shit launching himself on another man! A disgusting scene to witness, I was so mad. Just like that, out in the open, in that alley next to the diner, you know that one?”

Everything Wayne says after that, Eddie barely registers.

The sound of his voice is muffled, Eddie can feel his jaw clenching, his knees weak, his vision blur. He keeps himself busy making his breakfast, trying not to show his inner turmoil, but something betrays him. He doesn’t know if it’s him putting salt in his coffee or pouring water on his cereals instead of milk.

“Son, are you okay?” Wayne sounds concerned.

Eddie snaps out of his trance, he really tries to act normal but he can’t, he’s so tired of hiding in his own home.

He knows that diner alley too well, he has been there one too many times, risking getting caught doing exactly what Wayne got disgusted about.

“I’m fine” Eddie forces himself to say but, for better or for worse, his uncle knows him way too well.

“What’s going on? Is it something I said?” Wayne gets up from his chair and moves a step closer to him, Eddie flinches.

They've never experienced a situation like this, whenever one of them has a problem with the other, they just say it out loud, bicker for a while, and then go on with their life. Eddie has never had troubles telling his uncle anything, until now.

"What I've said about those men, upset you?" Wayne tries again, and Eddie cannot keep looking at his uncle and lie.

"You said it was a disgusting scene to witness. You're saying that people like me are a disgusting scene to witness."

They look at each other in silence for probably a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime from Eddie's perspective.

Then Wayne rushes to his side and envelopes him in a tight embrace.

"Son, that isn't what I meant- I don't care what you are, what I said about that man has nothing to do with you" Wayne has trouble expressing whatever is going inside his head.

Eddie has never told this to anyone before. He tries to interpret his words the best he can "but I am like that man, you can't just hate every queer that ever existed but me just because I'm your nephew."

Wayne grips his shoulders as if he was afraid Eddie would run away any second. Eddie realizes he is probably right: his gaze was scanning the room behind Wayne, searching for a way out, without fully realizing it.

He feels extremely stupid for coming out like this, without a backup plan, right after Wayne had shown him just how much he cannot stand gay people. He knows Wayne loves him like a son, but being fucked up like Eddie has to be too much even for him.

Wayne takes a deep breath, finally recollecting his thoughts. He moves his hands on Eddie's cheeks "Eddie, I want you to look at me. Look at me in the eyes, son."

Eddie focuses his gaze on his uncle's face. His hands are shaking, his posture stiff. He decides in that moment that whatever happens he will take the hit, fight back and run away.

"I love you Eddie, you are my son. I don't give a shit about who you wanna sleep with as long as you're cautious and you're safe. I don't have prejudice for anything, people can love whoever they wanna love, I don't fucking care. Are we understood?"

Eddie releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He really focuses on Wayne's expression, looking for any indication of him lying but he finds none. He seems concerned, determined and also sad at the same time.

"This changes nothing, I love you just the same."

It could have been because his uncle never told him he loved him so openly until now, because he was scared shitless and an adrenaline rush was running through his body, or because as soon as he figured out he was gay he had always feared the moment Wayne would find out.

It could have been all of those things at the same time that make his eyes watery. He looks away and rubs his arm on his eyes, Wayne lets him without a fuss. He knows Eddie won't run away now.

"But what about those men you were telling me about?" he asks, once he feels calm enough.

"The piece of shit was harassing the other man, it was clear from a mile away, I was pissed he thought he could do it out in the open and that no one would've stopped him" Wayne grumbles.

"Most people wouldn't have stopped him" Eddie says, still stunned.

"Well not your old man... wait, has that ever happened to you?" he questions, Eddie goes red in the face.

"Of course not! I can defend myself!" Eddie sputters, making his uncle chuckle.

Another silence spreads between them, but a much comfortable one.

"Listen, this ain't gonna be a piece of cake. I don't care, I told you, but there's people out there who do. So, when you're out, be careful but when you're here... this is your home Eddie, you have to feel free in here."

Eddie mentally curses him for turning what he thought was a dangerous situation into a sentimental one in a span of ten minutes, making him go to the verge of tears once again.

"Are we understood?" Wayne asks once again.

"We are" Eddie nods, and that's the end of it.

When the time comes and Eddie brings someone home, a boyfriend, to spend the night there and live comfortably around each other without any fear, Wayne knows he has done his job right.

----

So... I came out to my parents today. It wasn't planned, I was scared, but it went the best way I could've imagined. They're both an uncle Wayne, if that makes any sense ahahha But yeah, this inspired me to write Eddie's coming out. Wayne really doesn't care about queer people, he just wants Eddie to be okay, as any parent should.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Cactus (Killshot, Part 2.)

“Choices have consequences.” - Simon Riley, 2022

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: Simon never liked acting on a whim, but the mysterious flourish doesn't leave his thoughts, so he decides to break his habits. One day, he becomes a witness to Y/N's past catching up with her, which marks the beginning of their friendship. 

A/N: I'm actually so insecure about this series, aaaaa. I haven't written anything in a year properly and I'm so afraid people won't like my iteration of Simon. However, there isn't much to base it off because not like we witness their day-to-day life in CoD anyway.  Also, I'm going away for the next few days - chapter 3 is like 25 % finished, but I won't be able to work on it, so the next update should be here around Monday, Tuesday next week (Sunday if I'll clutch it). Sorry for the typos x.

Warnings: SIMON AND READER RIZZING EACH OTHER UP WITH ONE-LINERS (they cringe), both of them generally gushing over one another, and mentions of a past abusive relationship.

Word count: 6.1K

Tagging: @poohkie90​

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

Throughout his life, for as long as he could remember, Simon Riley considered himself to be a person of habit. He preferred a dull, monotonous routine over living his days out carelessly and freely. If he wasn't one of the higher-ranking members of SAS, he'd probably settle for a repetitive job where there would be little to no surprise- he'd likely become an office worker. When talking about routine, of course, Simon didn’t count in his paperwork, deployments, basically all job-related activities or occasional hangouts with his friends, that happened infrequently anyway.

Simon wasn't always like this, no. Back when his old man had all five together, he was what you'd call 'a normal child'. Back then, they were a normal family.

Simon vaguely recalled a train he loved to play with, the warm feeling of safety that his mum's kisses on the forehead brought, the safety when he could play with Tommy, just running around in the park pretending to be a pilot. Naturally, that all went to bloody shit. His old man lost all of his marbles. When Simon finally left home, he promised himself he would take full control of his life. His comfort in routine was the result of his father’s A+ upbringing. It taught him many lessons, some of which kept Simon up at night even as a grown, 6'3 man; moments when he felt like he's unable to protect himself or those surrounding him. Due to his many psychological evaluations, profilings and talks with the military shrink, he knew all the feelings were irrational. He was trying to fight those feelings the best he could. Simon was a fucking ace when it came to his job, he was able of taking people out in sixty various ways, snipe from blocks away, feel someone's presence way before they'd move... And yet, his father, his father's leather belt and his father's exotic pets brought him to his knees years after everything had been said and done. If he were to slip into a comfortable, never-changing routine, he would have under full control, he wouldn’t have to be wary of unexpected pain or punches that bring him to the ground, make him feel small and weak. He wouldn't have to be afraid of his demons that much... Wouldn't have to be afraid of feeling like a little, helpless child.

Now, throughout his adulthood, his day-to-day routine was firmly given - hour after hour, Simon’s brain knew what his body should be doing and it followed the schedule to a dot. For fucks sake, he was the kind of person who went out to buy groceries every two days and even on days he didn’t have to buy anything, Simon walked to the shop for the sake of keeping up with his routine. Due to this part of him, he could be perceived as a bit of a nut job. Almost everyone who'd ever been inside his apartment called him a cleaning freak - while in reality, it was just easy to keep the flat tidy thanks to a firmly given schedule. Simon didn't mind his flat or himself getting messy, otherwise, he would go insane during deployment. He didn't mind getting down and dirty, he didn't mind getting his clothes ripped, he didn't mind getting his body covered in scars if it meant the mission's success. It just meant that every day at 7 p.m., Simon did the dishes and disinfected most of the surfaces inside his house. He couldn't recall a day when he'd have dust in his flat except for when he came home from deployment. The fact that Simon owned little to no decoration inside his flat meant he didn't have to fiddle-faddle with dust catchers. First thing every morning? Putting on his baklava so he wouldn’t punch the mirror while looking at his reflection; followed closely behind with setting a kettle on the stove to get the tea going. Simon also had periodical tasks, as he named them - buying shoes every six months, and wardrobe renewal every three months.

His life was just a big scheme of periodically repeating tasks in which revelled. No surprises, no pain, no belittling - just Simon taking the reigns over his life.

However, something changed after Johnny and Cassie's proposal dinner. He couldn't point his finger at what it was, but his routine was missing something. And it was bugging Simon the fuck off. When Simon let his mind wander about, he caught himself going back to meeting the florist, Y/N as she introduced herself. His mind was considerate enough to let him play the memories again and again; all the alien feelings as they brewed inside his chest, him not being able to vocalize it, him not being able to speak properly when she looked at him. A hint of interest in her eyes as she realized why he accompanied Johnny. The flame of her warmth surrounding each action, word and expression. The tone of her voice, the fact that she was gorgeous... Simon had to see her again. He needed to talk to her again, ask her out if he'd find the courage.

Truth be told, he wasn't a stranger to hookups and attempts at getting into a relationship. Problems came when Simon tried to open up. The problems came after the act had ended. A one-night stand was fun enough until the girl asked if he'd like breakfast or if he'd like to repeat it someday. Simon loved the intimacy something as simple as sex could bring, he enjoyed the passionate emotions and friction of bodies... Until consequences came. Until the 'next morning' hit him right in his gut. Until he woke up next to them, seeing them sleep. Until he quickly put on his clothes and ran off like a scared little boy.

When it came to establishing a relationship, whether emotional or strictly physical, was when problems started to arrive... And never stopped coming. The last time he gave into giving this a try was four years ago. This experience kept him from dating ever since. His longest relationship? Half a fucking year, ended up with him getting deployed. Frankly, Simon started to feel very strongly about the lass he was seeing, he even planned on asking her to move in, he wanted to tell her he loved her. As he came to see her with a flower in his hand, some naked bozo answered the door. Naturally, actions spoke faster than words, so he packed a solid fucking punch. Needless to say, he hadn't seen Erica since. Not that he was sad about it, he was just brokenhearted and upset.

But you... Simon had never felt this strongly about anyone when meeting them for the first time, not even Erica made him as flustered and overtaken with emotion as you did. Trying to meet you, however, brought needed changes to his routine. Consciously pushing against the order set in his life was an enormous, almost unrealistic task. On the other hand, he was doing it for a good reason - if this meant he would be able to see you, he was willing to risk the restlessness that breaking the stereotype brought. On top of this, it was a well-known fact that working on administration outside the office greatly improved one’s overall mood. Or, so Price advised him.

Also, Simon was well aware that using the phrase ‘seeing you’ wasn’t fitting - he’d never gotten as far as making a contact. He started slowly - frequenting the cafe opposing Rosemary’s to scout out the terrain. He even noticed its name, Grind On. That made him chuckle. The man started taking notice of your presence in the shop - the very periodic nature of your shifts didn’t seem to change, which brought some relief and comfort; he’d be able to set a routine around this. Soon, he found himself sitting in the café every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to match your schedule; over time, he’d found himself a dead angle within the café in which none of the other guests could read the paperwork he was going through. The table was placed directly opposite the entrance to Rosemary’s, so Simon could watch as you created hundreds of bouquets over the span of getting used to his new way of living.

Even going out as frequently made him feel a tiny bit better, being around people as often was always alien to Simon, but simply letting life flow around him was making him feel easier. Not everyone was after his throat, not everyone stared at him as if they were about to shit their pants. No. To most people, Simon was just 'that rando they met on the street'. After some time, the baristas remembered his face (in a way) and his order (plain breakfast tea with a muffin, sometimes the soup of the day if he was feeling courageous) and started treating him as a regular, mainly a young bloke named Jason and a middle-aged woman named Anne. No more weird looks at his baklava, no more fear in their eyes. Just pleasantries. They even started asking him about his plans, his day, his mood, his job. Simon rarely gave in to the small talk, but it made him smile. He'd even go as far as to nod at the other regulars before putting his laptop onto the table, and plugging it in. Other times, Simon would bring a book or the newspaper. His eyes were on you the entire time, though. Oftentimes, he felt like an agent on a tailing mission, as if he was observing the suspect from afar, trying to gather intel. He had to reason with himself, telling himself his intention wasn't to pry, let alone stalk you - he just needed time to figure out how to approach you. He hadn’t got anyone to buy flowers for, which complicated the situation a fair share.

On Mondays, he’d take his favourite spot in the café in the early morning, watching you open up the shop. Each time, you were accompanied by Bonnie, who ran after you happily, barking as you teased her with a smile. Simon noticed that Bonnie’s collars switched frequently - sometimes, you’d tie an enormous plushy ribbon around her neck, other times it was a stylish bandana collar, and sometimes you picked the traditional, singular colour collar. Ghost found this habit of yours utterly cute, and soon, he realized he was looking forward to what collar Bonnie would be wearing next time. On Wednesdays, he’d come two hours before your shift was ending, making sure everything would go smoothly. There was never a singular hiccup throughout the month of his observations, he had to admit. On Fridays, he’d usually just drop by around noon to simply… Look at you, afore you from afar. Simon always had a keen eye, it was a requirement when it came to his job, and was a patient observer. He liked the way you always waved at leaving customers or measured the flowers’ length using your eyes only, always cutting off the exact length which needed to be cut.

As Cassie said, you were talking to the flowers a whole lot - each time, when the bouquet was near completion, you’d push your face next to the flower, whispering sweet nothings. As he watched you, oftentimes fiddling with his teaspoon, Simon caught himself daydreaming. What if he was your bouquet? What would you whisper in his ear if you'd get the chance? Would your fingers run across his jawline with matching subtlety, setting his body ablaze? Would it turn you as much as the thought turned him on? Could the two of you perhaps have some fun with the ribbons you use in your bouquets all the time? How would it look like if you’d wove it into your hair and Simon was the one to slowly pull the strands out one by one? How would it look and feel tying your wrists together? As soon as the clothes started disappearing in his imagination, Simon had to snap himself out of the trance. Thanks to this, he bent more than three teaspoons. The baristas usually laughed it off and brought him another one, and thank God they couldn't see how heavily Simon blushed under the mask.

His favourite moments, however, were those in between - the small moments during which he went on a smoke break and managed to listen to some of your music. Yea, it was still fucking tacky, but the tunes were starting to grow on Simon. A few times, he even caught himself pulling his phone out just to let Shazam search for the mysterious tune. There was a regular pattern traceable in your music choices. It was closely tied to the type of order you've got. Each type had its assigned playlist and thanks to that, Simon started to understand the habits and recurring phenomenons in your work. On some days, the oldies blasted through the flower shop as you waltzed through it with Bonnie hot on your heels, laughing while putting the flowers together - those were usually assigned for lovers, for dates and overall happy occasions. On other days, slow ballads and nonsensical love songs played, which usually meant you were working on wedding bouquets or big-event-type bouquets, just like Johnny's proposal bouquet. Simon genuinely hated it when you got a gig for funerals or other ceremonies similar to it - the shop remained silent - Simon noticed you usually didn’t even turn on most of the fairy lights at your disposal. Your mood dropped and the happy antics disappeared as you tied the flowers together, making sure they were honourable enough.

As per usual by that point, this happened on a Friday, and Simon sat at his favourite spot. There was a chai latté in front of him (he started to love the flavour of cinnamon harmonizing with the rest of the blend as well as the drink sending a wave of warmth through his entire body) along with a chocolate muffin. He just got back in and Anne was on his ass… That was sweet of her. As Simon looked up to nod her way, the barista just winked back with a knowing smile. The mood was good and you didn't have a lot of orders per se, but you had enough traffic to still make profits - Simon just back from his smoke break, hearing a hypnotizing love song playing inside the flower shop when a customer opened the door. Before picking the book off the table, he turned his head in your direction, expecting that you'd be walking the gentleman through what the flowers meant, helping to pick out the best combination. Instead, you were giving the customer a deadpan, frozen behind the counter, your expression devoid of any emotion. The man was clearly talking to you, gesturing heatedly and Simon didn’t have to go far to conclude he was most likely yelling his lungs out at you. ... better than her mum, anyway.

The words rang through Simon’s head as you finally took in a breath, yelling right back at the guy with matching intensity, shoving him out of the door. This was all Simon needed to see - he started packing his stuff, giving Anne the total and left a generous tip before he walked outside the shop. While you walked behind back onto the counter, falling onto it while your fists grabbed onto your hair as you gasped for air, the guy stared through the door at you. A moment later, he turned on his heels to leave the place. Simon was faced with a challenge - either he could go and comfort you (which would finally get him the chance to talk to you) or tail the guy, finding out a bit about him. Maybe even to have a chat with him. Against his better judgment, Simon's body moved on its own as soon as the mysterious man started walking towards Soho.

Simon genuinely didn't know for how long he tailed the guy - he watched him get into a double-decker in the centre, leaving while memorizing which route this number took. Simon was thinking about following him and getting on the bus as well, but the image of you being distressed was burdening him. Who even was the guy? Your boyfriend? Were you seeing someone? Honestly, Simon didn't consider this possibility beforehand. God, what if you were seeing someone and he'd come across as a perv and a stalker? Or... Could it be the one troubling you? Could he just be a rude customer? Could he be trying to wreak havoc in your daily life?

Fifteen minutes later, Simon was standing in front of Rosemary’s again. He fought himself for a long time before he entered the shop - as to be expected, you were nowhere to be seen, the tunes were playing silently, tuned down to a mere whisper. Because the door to the employees' facility was cracked open, it didn’t take Bonnie long enough to poke her head out with curiosity - and once more, as soon as her eyes landed on Simon, she was ready on her feet and running right to him. The adoration in her eyes made him chuckle as he mirrored Johnny’s actions; he leaned down to pick her up, scratching the sweet spot behind her ears. This ruckus was enough to lure you out as well.

Simon’s heart nearly broke when he saw your puffy eyes - suddenly, all the energy was gone, there was no warmer to be found and no smiles to be given. “I’m so sorry. I’m on my break and forgot to lock the door. Could you perhaps come in fifteen…” - You started, still drying your eyes with a napkin. When you actually looked at the newcomer, you were visibly caught off guard... Simon hoped it wasn't the bad kind of surprise, but your expression made him sure it wasn't the case. Some of your warmth started to come back as you smiled gently. - “Ghost.” - Was all you whispered. You didn’t need to say much more, because even the endearing tone of your voice made Simon grin sheepishly, his heart doing a backflip in his chest.

“I can come back in fifteen. It’s not a problem.” “Really? I'd appreciate that, you’d be a sweetheart… My day isn’t going too well and I need a bit to pull my shit back together.” - You sighed, rolling your eyes upon going back to the encounter with your ex-boyfriend. He refused to give up, still claiming some fucked up form of ownership over you - the next time he’ll swing by to hit you with his bullshit, you were sure your hand will slip and you’ll slap him… Or worse, kill him or something. You’ve never considered yourself to be a violent person, but Billy was bringing out the worst of you, awakening some dark fucking demons inside you each time he dared to even break... Especially after all he had done. Simon, on the other hand, was enamoured with the nickname - he'd be a fucking sweetheart. Just the nickname alone weakened Simon’s knees, putting a boyish smile on his lips. His brain flashed around three million different scenarios during which you could call him sweetheart too, making his breath hitch a little.

“Mhm.” - Simon hummed as if it was obvious he'd do as you asked, waiting for his voice to regain its footing. Then, he reached out his palm in your direction. - “I’ll take this pretty girl out for a walk if that’s fine with you.” At first, your reaction to the offer wasn't clear - a furrow appeared on your face, looking him up and down with suspicion. All the tension was erased when you snickered, shaking your head. Within the next minute, you were giving Simon Bonnie's leash. Simon didn’t really expect you to comply, but it made him a bit more sure of his footing. You clearly trusted him enough to take care of your dog for fifteen minutes; whatever you thought of him, it had to be positive.

“Look at her. Barely half a year old and she’s already getting all the nice guys to herself. She’ll grow up to be a heartbreaker, mark my words.” - Giving Simon the leash, you walked to the duo to pet Bonnie as well. You’ve pressed a small bag into his palm as well - it was filled to the brim with various dog treats, snacks and small plastic bags for poop.

“Honestly, would you be able to resist these eyes? Just look at the lass.” - The man let slip par his slips, utterly enamoured by your beauty as he kept staring at you. Thankfully, you were too busy kissing the top of Bonnie’s head to notice the way he stared at you. “Hey, Y/N?” “Hm?” “Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wanna… Talk about it, perhaps? It could help you take your mind off things.” - Simon wondered, the question slipping past his lips on its own. You were paying him full attention now, locking your gaze with his. It almost looked like you were internally debating over whether to tell Simon what happened or not, but then you shook your head with one of the sweetest smiles anyone had ever given to him. - “It’s just petty personal bullshit, nothing I can’t deal with on my own. Anyway… You two should go now, you’re disturbing an artist at work.”

There she was - the girl Simon daydreamed about for the last couple of weeks. Even though you didn’t confide in him, his offer clearly made you feel easier. The light was slowly coming back to your eyes, your smile was melting away the ice surrounding his chest, and your warmth was making Simon feel better about himself. You talked to him precisely like you did to Johnny - as if you were the oldest of friends bumping into each other, just chatting about.

“On our merry way, ma’am.” - Simon saluted just to make you laugh. After, he put Bonnie on the ground, making sure the leash is locked onto her collar properly. As he heard you chuckle while he closed the door, he smiled to himself too. - “See you in a bit, you two! Give him hell, Bon Bon!”

As Simon promised, he took Bonnie for a walk around the block of various shops, and Asian restaurants mixed into residential buildings. Because of Bonnie and her curious, friendly nature, Simon was suddenly the target of attention - a 6'3 man with a mask on his face walking around with a 6-month-old puppy of an Austrian shepherd with an enormous lime green ribbon around its neck sure made a lot of head turn around. Even though the duo walked pretty slowly, they still had some time to stop by Grind On, picking up chai latté and baked goods for. When Anne noticed Bonnie resting in Simon's arms, sniffing his baklava happily, she gasped as if he unravelled a secret.

“So that’s how it is! This makes a whole lot of sense.” - Anne murmured with a sheepish smile while working on the order - two chai lattés and a whole selection of baked goods; he knew you'd die for Grind On's croissants, but that couldn't be all you liked, right? Simon's eyebrows raised upon Anne's excitement, waiting for her to explain the mental gymnastics behind whatever she concluded. - “That’s why you’re here so often! That’s just adorable!” “What is?” - Simon deadpanned. “You’re coming here regularly often because you like to watch your girlfriend at work, what a lucky gal. Honestly, Y/N is one of the sweetest people working on the same block as us and she deserves to have a gentleman in her life, she’s got enough letdowns already. Don’t you think you can deceive me, darling, I know this sweet little girl all too well, right, Bonnie?” - Anne explained, gushing over how adorable Bonnie was. Her words caught Simon off guard. He, indeed, loved watching you work. And Anne calling you his girlfriend sounded so heavenly, but…

“She, ugh… Y/N isn’t my… She’s a friend of my friend. I just like this café, s’all.” - Simon uttered against his will, having Anne looking at him with a slight furrow. Her expression slowly grew gentler and gentler, turning into a motherly smile at the end as if she knew something Simon didn’t. It was precisely all the words Simon didn’t say out loud that told Anne everything she needed to know.

"I see. I hope you'll get the courage to tell her soon, then. It's like watching the beginning of a romance movie." - The woman whispered wickedly and winked at the duo. Simon nodded without a word, watching Anne put some extra goods into the paper bag. You deserved a gentleman. You've had enough letdowns in your life. What if Simon was a letdown? What if he wouldn't be what you deserved - what if you wouldn't accept his careful advances in the first place? He's been so into you that he hadn't stopped to think if you could be interested in him... And due to the small number of your interactions, Simon couldn't base his stance on anything. He basically didn't know you, he spent a month gushing about a stranger. He could ask Cassie about you, about what you've been like and what you're looking for... But that would give him away immediately.

As he put Bonnie back onto the ground, he was furrowing, being lost in his thoughts - not for long, though. You've seemingly got your shit together and started working on another order - there was a little boy standing in front of the counter, watching you with his mouth open. "Ghost!" - You exclaimed happily, smiling from ear to ear. Bonnie, as the little she-devil she was, ran to you immediately to totter around your feet. - "Was the walk nice, Bon Bon? I bet it was, yeah? Yeah." - The tone of your voice pitched as you leaned down to greet your dog, letting her lick your chin a few times.

It took just a moment to finish up the flower - the boy paid you 5 pounds for a singular red rose, all the decorations being counted in. "The rose wasn't worth only five quid, was it?" - Simon wondered. "Come on, be a romantic. He was about to ask his crush out, what monster would I be to stand in the way of young love?" "Right. You'll rather go broke." "Exactly, that's the spirit." - You bounced back immediately, pointing at the enormous paper bag in his palm. Without hesitation, Simon gave it to you to let you peek inside. As soon as you noticed all the goods, your expression froze a bit. That had to be worth at least fifty to sixty quid. - "What's that for?" "I asked Anne for three croissants, but as soon as she spotted Bon, she filled it to the brim." "Are you a regular in Grind On?" - You wondered. "Started frequenting it after tasting the chai latté you recommended. Couldn't shake it out of my head, I hadn't tasted anything like that before. Also, Soho is really nice at this time of year."

For a bit, neither of you said a word. Your eyes locked onto one another, your breath hitched and got irregular. Simon noticed that you shivered, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. Only if he'd know how flustered you were - your entire face was flushed, you had to battle the corner of your lips just so you wouldn't smile like a freaking idiot. You couldn't get him out of your head. The mysterious Ghost guy accompanying Cassie's fiancé on the day of their proposal, you couldn't forget how much he didn't belong in the flower shop. The first moment he walked in you knew that he wasn't feeling too good about the place, so you didn't want to intrude by prying information out of him. The warm, intense gaze of his eyes made you smile each time you recalled it. Usually, you'd stop anything you've been doing so you could giggle and fluster; at that point, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown, independent woman - not a crushing high-schooler. You hadn't even seen his face, for fuck's sake. On the other hand... The sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat each time he spoke. When they left the shop, you watched them disappear in the distance for as long as you could, wondering if you'd ever see him again.

As to be expected, you asked Cassie about him the next time you got together for a coffee. You were desperately trying to lure any sort of information out of her, but she didn't budge. She explained that Ghost was particularly vigilant about sharing pieces of his life, keeping his private life very private. The two had known each other for almost a year and there was a lot she didn't know about him - according to her, Cassie didn't believe that Johnny would know that much more than her. What Cassie did know, however, she didn't share out of sheer respect for their friendship. You respected her decision, not prying any further. All she gave you were vague assumptions - that Ghost was in his late twenties, that he'd been born and raised in the UK and that he'd joined the military fairly young. She also asked if you'd like to get his number, but you didn't accept - if Ghost would like you to have his number, he was the one to give it to you.

And now, Ghost was there, with you. Standing in front of you. Bringing you brewing hot chai latté and a horde of baked goods, just like he did before. You couldn't be sure, but you prayed this was his love language - because any guy before him was able to make you flustered by simply looking your way. Trying to act casual about how you stared at him, you cleared your throat and put the bag away with a gracious smile.

"I hope you'll have some with me, then, this would last me a week at least." "I had my share earlier in the afternoon, thank you, though." "Ah, I see." - You whispered, the disappointment clear in your face. At least you thought it had to be. - "What can I do for you? Anything on your mind? Can I tie you a special flower for a special girl? A girlfriend, perhaps?" - You wondered, trying to act professionally about it while you prayed his response would be that there is no girlfriend.

"That's strange." - The man uttered under his breath, chuckling with disbelief. This took you by surprise, making you chuckle as well. - "That's the second time today someone assumed I'm shopping for a girlfriend." "And... Are you?" "No." - Simon deadpanned matter-of-factly. - "There's no girlfriend to shop for." - He explained, making you giddy up a bit. Bonnie was now running around the two of you, laying on her back so you'd pet her - but you were unable to take your eyes off the man. These eyes, man, they were beautiful.

"What are you looking for, then? Would it be bold to assume you're shopping for a flower?" "I actually am." "You're in the right place then, I can walk you through everything you'd need to know about them. What kind of flower are you looking for?" "I'd hope so, you're a florist." - Simon muttered under his breath. First, it came across as a rude comment - when he flickered his eyes at you, you realized he was trying to joke around. Naturally, you grinned and shook your head. - "The windowsill in my flat looks a bit bland, decided it's time to liven it up. The problem is that I'm not a flower guy."

"I'd assume so, you're not the one who studied to get this position." - you reiterated, shooting right back at Simon. You could see the baklava shift on his face, so you assumed he was smiling. "You know what one flower said to the other when it was asking for a chance?" - You mumbled as you started to figure out what would be appropriate for Ghost - you knew he and Johnny were military, and Cassie confided that they often got deployed. It had to be a flower that could go without regular watering for months, but it would also have to be something that wouldn't mold easily. Simon watched you move closer and closer to succulents, caught off guard by the question.

"Come on, Ghost. It's a good one, I promise, don't make me feel like a dud." - You mumbled impatiently when he was silent for far too long. - "You know what one flower said to the other when it was asking for a chance?" "No idea." "Don't worry, love, I'll grow on ya." - You finished with a wicked grin on your face, waiting for Simon to process the joke - as soon as he realized what you just did., the man let out a chuckle. It came across as if he did his best to suppress it, because this joke was one of the corniest he'd heard - the only person with even worse jokes was MacTavish himself. "You're one of these, huh?" "It's a good joke, come on." "Never said it isn't." - Simon muttered quietly, feeling a big smile breaking out on his face, no matter how much he fought it. A cute, beautiful florist with flower puns and one-liners? With each passing second, you were getting better and better, almost too good to be true.

"There she is." - You mumbled, pulling out a small round cacti. - "It's a cactus usually recommended to beginners, so no need to be worried here. This small lady is a part of Echinopsis, a cacti group native to South America. This one is from Argentina specifically, so it prefers warmer temperatures and a lot of sunlight, perfect for a windowsill." "Why did you go for this one specifically?" "Because it's very well known for its dramatic buds. And you strike me as someone who secretly revels in drama." "That was cold." - Ghost rebutted immediately, amusement clearly audible in his voice. "... Also because it prefers sandy soil and can go without water for a fair share of time. As long as you leave it in sunlight and don't let it freeze to death, it should easily wait until you get back from deployment." - You finished, flustering and looking away. It had to be obvious you memorized every last bit of detail about Ghost, no? There wasn't much you'd know about him, but you remembered a thing here and there.

"It's perfect for me, then." - Simon agreed, carefully taking the cactus from your palm to give it a look. He quite liked it, it was very small and cute. - "Were you joking about the buds?" "No, this cactus' buds are enormous and colourful. Haven't met a person who wouldn't like the look of it." "I'll take it, then. Have you heard flowers are capable of kissing, by the way?" "They're what?" - You snickered back as you prepared the cactus for his new home - you'd packed everything Simon might need as someone new to owning a plant. "Yeah, they have Tulips." - Simon added matter-of-factly. At first, you deadpanned at him before you shook your head in disbelief. "And you were judging me for liking flower puns?" "Hadn't ever said I didn't like flower puns. What's the total?"

Without putting any numbers into the register, you put a fancy paper bag in front of Simon. It had everything he might need - fresh soil, a bigger flower pot, a small scapula to help him re-plant the cactus once it grows bigger. "It's on the house." "Not in a million years. What's the total?" "The total is: it's on the house, Ghost. I don't a single dime." "Y/N, come on." "Take it as my way of paying you back for making sure Grind On won't have any baked goods to sell during their afternoon shift." "That's how it is?" - Ghost snickered with amusement. You've been clearly assuming you're the dispute going your way, so you nodded proudly. "That's how it is, sir." "I'll take it as a prepay for the next delivery, then." - Simon informed you as if you didn't have a say in this, earning a gentle smile from you. The light inside your eyes intensified as you looked at the man with adoration, pushing your palms into the pockets of your jeans just so you wouldn't start playing with your fingers excitedly.

"Will you come to see me again?" "Affirmative, ma'am." - The man breathed out, feeling his heartbeat picking up as he realized you'd been excited about him dropping by. "I better look up some military jokes so we can make fun of your occupation too." "Got one to get you going." "I'm listening." - You alluded, leaning closer to Ghost. "Why are there no insects around the base?" "Why aren't the insects there?" "It's a no-fly zone." - Simon finished and after you scoffed, he jokingly saluted, turning around to leave the shop. That was when you called out his name, so he'd halt and look over to you. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you again." - Ghost was searching for any sign of irony in your expression, for anything that would lead him to believe that you weren't being serious with him. But there were none. The man didn't answer, he simply nodded and lowered his head before walking out - something led you to believe that his cheeks turned bright pink under the baklava, but you'd only seen it for a second, so it could be just a hallucination.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 2

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1505

Warnings:

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Man I Feel Like A Woman Out of Sight Out of Mind

****

Hangman

People packed into the Hard Deck, not unusual for a Friday night. But unlike most of the patrons, Hangman found himself and his brothers-in-arms dressed to the nines in their whites and, in the case of Phoenix, Juliette, and Halo, their cocktail dresses. They'd gone out to celebrate Juliette's big promotion at work. Of course, she couldn't drink being pregnant, but Juliette apparently didn't need alcohol to have fun. She happily sang at the top of her lungs when Rooster played the piano or at karaoke with whoever would join her (mainly Phoenix and Fanboy), although Jules put all other singers to shame. She hustled unsuspecting pilots at pool and joked around with the Daggers like they'd grown up with each other. Rooster kept a careful eye on her. Hangman noticed his comrade had become extremely protective and concerned about Juliette since she passed out Christmas morning, a side effect of the pregnancy. The doctors assured them it'd been a one-off, but Rooster, traumatized by an unspoken tragedy, refused to wholly believe them.

Hangman knew this. Hangman understood Rooster had every right to be protective over Juliette and that he himself had no rights at all, but he couldn't help the jealousy that rose up in him every time he noticed the longing gazes the couple exchanged, how Rooster would watch Juliette with the softest of smiles as if he wasn't even aware he did so, the way Juliette leaned into Rooster whenever he stood next to her. They were so helplessly, madly, head-over-heels in love with each other, and as happy as Hangman was for them, it still hurt. Hangman had fallen swift and hard for Juliette, although he'd never admit that. Jake understood he could never compare to Rooster. Bradshaw had a history with Juliette, and Hangman didn't. He was just the resident playboy with the reputation of never wanting to settle down, whose one true love was the open sky and his career. Juliette had made him question those beliefs, and he hadn't felt that since-

"-ghost. Blasted past me on the freeway like the devil himself was after them and disappeared in the blink of an eye, they were driving so fast," Coyote said, interrupting Jake's train of thought. He took a swig of his beer, keeping a carefully calculated expression of nonchalance despite his meandering mind.

"Or maybe you were driving like you're on a Sunday drive, like you always do," Payback jested.

"This stranger wouldn't happen to have been on a red and black Kawasaki, would they?" Juliette queried, her eyes glittering with intrigue.

Coyote cocked his head in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"It's Princess," Hangman said, shooting her a playful smirk. "She knows everything."

"As much as that is usually true-" Jules began, returning the compliment with an appreciative smile- "it was a hopeful guess. If you'll excuse me for a moment!"

She slipped out of her fiancé's arms and darted through the crowd, leaving the Daggers confused. Hangman bit back his amusement at Rooster's puppy dog eyes trailing after her, obviously restraining himself from following. Jake's attention was diverted to the pool table when Phoenix called out his name. He acquiesced to her request to join, grabbing a pool stick. She teamed up with Bob while Coyote joined Hangman. The pairs used the ever-trusty "Rock Paper Scissors" to decide who went first. Phoenix, as usual, won.

Right as Hangman bent over to hit his shot, a familiar guitar riff and voice broke out near the karaoke machine. Cheers went up, especially from the Daggers, as the sound of Juliette belting out to 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman.' Hangman failed to remember ever knowing she played guitar, but he'd add it to the list of ways she kept surprising him. The Daggers would've moved closer to cheer her on, but the crowd prevented that endeavor. Rooster managed it, but he also didn't appear to give anyone blocking him a choice, shouldering his way through to get to Juliette. His piano skills soon joined the guitar, along with a second female voice harmonizing with Juliette. Could it be the mystery person Juliette raced out to greet?

Hangman sang along at the top of his lungs, thoroughly enjoying the song and the killer cover by Juliette. When it ended, she received a well-deserved ovation. The crowd parted for her, Rooster, and their mystery guest. Only when they rejoined the Daggers did Hangman wish he'd caught a glimpse of the person beforehand to prepare himself. The face that haunted his dreams appeared before him, wearing eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man and red lipstick that surely received its striking color from the blood of her enemies, namely him. For the first time, Hangman purposefully faded behind his wingmen, desperately needing a moment to catch his breath and gather his wits. He locked eyes with Coyote on the way, and a silent understanding passed between the two friends.

"Well, I'll be damned," Payback said, smiling at Ghost. "Where the hell have you been?"

"You know I can't answer that," Ghost chastised teasingly.

"If she tells us anything, she'll have to kill us," Coyote remarked. His voice immediately garnered her attention. For Ghost, she had always figured that wherever Coyote was, Jake most likely wasn't far away.

Still, Ghost's voice held nothing but sincere happiness when she said, "Hey, Coyote."

"Hey." He strode up to Ghost and gave her a rare hug. "Good to see you."

"You as well." She scanned the room, her eyes finally landing on Hangman. Then, curtly, she nodded and said, "Seresin."

"Blackwood, as I live and breathe." Shooting her his hundred-watt smile, he looked her up and down, admiring the black dress hugging her curves. "You look good."

"How do you all know each other?" Juliette asked. The question sounded casual enough, but he saw her analyzing the situation before her, picking up on the tension he tried so hard to hide. For better or worse, that analytical mind of hers wasn't limited to engineering and designing aircraft.

"Stationed with most of these guys at some point," Ghost answered. "Went to school with Coyote, and as you already know, Top Gun with Rooster."

"What about you and Hangman?"

"Old acquaintances," Jake said casually before Ghost could even open her mouth to answer. Juliette stopped her questioning like he knew she would. She remembered what those words had meant for her not too long ago. Still, Hangman would prepare himself for the interrogation from her later because it would undoubtedly be on its way.

Coyote wagged his finger at the two girls. "Where did you two meet?"

"In passing at Top Gun, but we didn't actually talk until a month or two later by happenstance," Juliette said, grabbing her water and taking a few gulps. "Not much bonds girls quicker than having each other's back when a creep starts following one of you in a store."

Noticing her friend's drink, Ghost said, "Please tell me that's vodka. You're celebrating a huge job promotion!"

"If I could drink, I would, but I can't." Juliette slung her arm over her friend's shoulders. "Girl, I have so much to catch you up on, but for now, long story short? Rooster and I are engaged, and I'm expecting twins."

Ghost's mouth fell open, shock etching itself onto her face until Jules's words fully processed. Then, the pilot let out a joyful scream and hugged Juliette tightly. "Oh my God, I'm so happy for y'all! When are you due? When's the wedding?"

"Thanks! I'm due in August, and the wedding will be sometime next year. Still deciding on a date. Obviously, you're invited." Juliette sat on an empty bar stool to get off her feet. Rooster stood behind her, and she leaned against him. Hangman watched Jules and Ghost shoot the breeze. 

Coyote stood beside him, mumbling the question loudly enough only for Hangman to hear, "You good, man?"

Not wanting to worry his only ally in this situation, he lied, "Yeah, I'm good. Wasn't expecting this. Did she say she was-"

"No. I had no clue." Coyote had stayed in touch with Ghost, but he never said much, if anything, about her, understanding Hangman would rather talk about anything else but her. Hell, Jake would rather face an angry Juliette than utter Ghost's name, and that was saying something. Even speaking her last name made his heart constrict painfully in a way it hadn't in years, the last time being when they'd parted ways, never to speak again until now. 

Hangman glanced at the clock, estimating how much longer the group would be here. Dismay settled in. It was only nine o'clock, and the Daggers were far from ready to leave. They'd be going until at least midnight. Hangman, typically the last to leave, couldn't be the first tonight. It'd look too suspicious with Ghost's arrival. No, he'd have to play it cool until some of the others departed. Then he could make his escape. How difficult could it be?

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @majdoline @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2

If you're on the tag list, it's because I copied from the India Lima Yankee tag list. If you don't wish to be tagged for this story, just let me know! If you're not on the tag list and want to be, comment below :)

[angelcatsiel]

I'm a little late with this post because I have literally spent like 3 days sleeping and recovering but anyway I had the absolute best time at crossroads! Seeing Misha in costume as Cas was so exciting and overwhelming, I had a little happy cry afterwards. I also fell completely in love with Tomer and Karen from The Boys this weekend, and ended up buying a sneaky extra photo with Tomer.

The other main highlight of the weekend was my ride in the Impala! It's been there for several previous cons I've been at, and I've missed it every single time and I missed it again Friday when it arrived outside the Hilton just after I'd returned to my own hotel room. But someone came up to me at the bar on Sunday evening and told me it was outside so I raced out there, and was the last one to get to ride in it around the car park before they stopped for the night! And holy shit, I absolutely lost my mind.

Panels were fun (I knew as soon as I heard it that Misha's 'balls deep' comment would soon be blowing up online lmao), parties were fun, although sadly I decided to only stay for a little while Saturday night and save my energy to stay up all night Sunday, and that didn't happen. I mean, I did stay up all night, but only because I had a bad seizure towards the end of the night, and due to the con being over and me being the Hilton hotel's responsibility, they had to insist on us calling an ambulance, so I was wrapped up in foil blankets like a human burrito all night until paramedics arrived at about 6am. It was actually pretty scary (never been that weak and out of it for so long after a seizure before and apparently I turned blue for a while, fun times) and I was devastated about missing out on a lot of the party, but I at least managed the Cha Cha Slide before my body gave out on me! And the people who sat with me all night and took care of me were amazing. The paramedics were kind enough to drop me back at my hotel too, so I got a late checkout and a nice lie in when I got back!

Overall, it was a pretty great time. Whether I make the next one in September is unknown at the moment but I'd love to!

[kurosstuff]

Summary: you've both been lying to yourselves, there's nothing that can be done, even when one is more (un)willing to admit it

Warning(s) implied break up, implied emotional cheating violence, angst with no happy ending.

Natasha romanoff x reader: Liar

Everything was perfect. The love you and Natasha shared could make anyone single or not envious of how well you both work together. The love you both share was never doubted between you.

Until it was.

It started off small, one of you took more missions away from one another. That's explainable, there's been a bunch of attacks from HYDRA and other issues going on. Then the fleeting looks you'd share passing by. The Sunday late night chats you both agreed upon slowly died out, ending one night. Natasha had both your favorite beverages out in hopes to restart the diming flame.

You never showed.

The last kick, was when you stopped coming to your shared room- going back to yours to stay in every now and again- the first couple times she ignored it, ignored the pain cause you were just tired. You'd be back the next day, and you were. But then the nights away became from once in a while to so much, she's no longer upset to not see you by her side during the week. Even if you used the excuse it's closer. Even though you have to pass her room to get to yours. She wanted-needed to fix this. She loves you to much to let you go.

Even if she herself is unknownly lying as well.

Natasha couldn't handle the pitying looks from Clint whenever he saw her- or saw you with her. She never doubted your loyalty towards your relationship, nor doubted your feelings for her. Trusted you even when you looked at her with the same look you used to look at her with. Even when you shared the laughs, the same drinks you'd always only have with her.

Natasha always believed she could handle heartbreak. She convinced herself of it years ago-even after it was put in her head, love was weak- and yeah she is even know weak with love for one person. After awhile of being with you. She learned she can finally put her heart into someone's hand-she knew she wouldn't make a mistake when she did at the begining.

Her heart breaks each time you pass by without a glance her way. Each time you look at her the way you used to her. No more hand holding. No more nothing. She was going to confront you tonight about this. She just wasn't sure how to

Turning the corner. She spotted you, sitting on the counter, her hopefully eyes dimmed realizing who you were talking to. Taking a moment Natasha took a deep breath. Then started to walk up to you too.

"Hey love" She started, voice steady-she was silently thankful for, not missing on how your smile faltered looking over at her, raising an eyebrow in a silent way she cleared her throat. "Can we talk?" Biting her bottom lip nervously she couldn't help but worry about the possibility of rejection. But then again she's your girlfriend and you've always taking the time to stop and talk to her- even when you were busy

"Oh- sorry Natty, can it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of a conversation right now babe"

The rest of the short talk was a blur before she left the room. Going to her room in a tearful mess, she slammed the door closed behind her. You would never do what you just did. Brushing her off like that? Never would have happened. You wouldn't do that. That's just too cruel for anyone to do. Especially knowing she's upset about something. She knew you could tell. You always did even when she didn't want you too.

The love is slipping through your guys fingers- nothing can stop it from spilling out. The cracks were too deep, this encounter just deepened it further.

Slipping under the covers. Natasha was to lazy-to sad, to put pajamas on. She for the first time in a couple days cried herself to sleep. Clutching the stuffed bear you won her at a game years ago when the love was strong. When there were no cracks.

-

"What happened to us. What made you stop loving me?" Natasha spoke tears coming out as she took a deep breath "what did I do to lose you?" Her breath stopped for a second at the lack of response. Movement from you. A deep unnerving pit formed in her stomach

She woke to light shining through the covers, the recently not new carelessness of being quiet when you entered. Like you were purposefully being loud to wake her up-to annoy her. Huffing she sat up in bed. Watching you silently go into your shar-her room getting more of your stuff.

"...What are you doing?" Finally finding her voice she gulped down the lump in her throat, jumping slightly before turning towards her with a raised eyebrow

"Getting some stuff for a mission"

She watched you turn back to what you were doing, putting clothes in the bag by your side, before picking it up so you could easily slip pants in. "Oh. What was it you needed?" You suddenly remembered, not bothering to look back. Natasha as she was before was at a loss of words. What is she supposed to even say? Even respond to you with how you asked? Would you care? Would you brush her off?

Again?

Quickly putting your bag down you sat beside her, putting your hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. Worry written on your face- it made her blood boil but also made the whole thing sadder "What? Nat what are you talking about I love you-"

"Do not. I'm not blind. I can see it. See the way you look at her" Natasha spoke calmly, yet you could hear the anger at the last part, with a heavy sigh, you stood stepping away from Natasha "You can't tell me you feel something for her, while you look at her like I look at you"

"So your not denying you look at her that way? Am I not enough? I loved you. And I thought you still felt the same." Narrowing her eyes she took note on how you froze in what you were doing. Turning to face her in full annoyance

"Look at me? Look at me." Glaring at her you threw your hands up in an annoyed huff- in disbelief, "the hell are you talking about? You've been looking at me like I'm a stranger." Turning back to your bag you continued on packing away for the mission. "Have been for months now" gritting your teeth, you zipped up the bag

Huffing you turned to face her again, annoyed "Natasha I love you. Not her. Don't be so insecure, there's nothing to it." Attempting to blow her off with a eye roll- it pained her. She was losing you. Yet at the same time it doesn't hurt all that bad. Like deep down she knew this was going to happen. Like she silently expected it.

Natasha tried one last attempt, a cheap shot she knew wouldn't work. She fought the tears back- breathing in heavly in heartbreak- but the tears wouldn't stop coming, sniffing she looked up at you before you left. Her last attempt.

And she might have

"Look. I've got to go now Natasha. The mission starts tonight I'll be back and hopefully by then you know I haven't changed how I felt."

There was no missions for anyone. Not even a talk of one, if there was one she'd know- even if it was a no contact mission. Natasha would always find out first. So she knew there was no missions. Closing her eyes she listened as you finished packing, opening her eyes she watched you head to the door.

"If you walk out those doors, I'll know you were lying. That you never loved me the way i loved you."

You closed the door without a thought

[rainycitysworld]

I was off Tumblr for like a week and I had to do a double take when I saw your posts! I'm so glad your back and doing a bunch of fandoms! Can you maybe do the veteran trio and how they get together with their S/O who's also a scout? I need some fluff before today's episode...

Awww, thank you anon! Happy to be back :) and same!!!! Every Sunday is sheer fear and excitement 🙃

Also, I love the veterans!

Erwin getting together with S/O

I imagine whoever this person is, they’ve been with Erwin day one, like maybe even when he was in training. 

I think they’d have to be because: 1) I think Erwin would find it inappropriate with his position to be with just any solider 2) Before he pursued anything he had to know they didn’t go down easy and that they understood what being a Scout meant

They’d definitely be equals, friends, colleagues, confidants, and someone to soundboard ideas off of before becoming partners in the romantic sense.

The romance would be a pretty slow burn, maybe some light flirting when they were young, a lot of trauma bonding when they first start the Scouts and eventually it turns into something else

One night, they have a glass of wine while going over riding formations that goes a little too late into the night. It turns into some long deep talk about their hopes and dreams if the Titans were ever gone then before either of them knows it his hand is on S/O’s knee then thigh.

There’s tension that should be awkward but more inevitable than anything and that’s the first night anything happens.

After that I bet Erwin and S/O spend more time together but nothing official. I think it would take a long time for anything serious due to both their fears of committing if they could die at any moment.

But eventually both come around because at this point, they’re only lacking a label. 

Hange and Levi knew this whole time and Hange tried to get Levi to place a bet on when they would get together but Levi said that was stupid and didn’t partipate. Still he’s happy for his friend.  

S/O and Levi compete for Erwin’s attention

Levi getting together with S/O

Levi’s allegiance before meeting S/O goes: Erwin, Scouts, himself 

A solider starts making their way up the ranks, racking up impressive numbers, Levi has room on his squad and after interviewing them thinks they’d be a good match to his team so he invites them to join.

After several missions they slowly get to know each other better and start to develop a relationship with each other outside of killing Titans

Levi is protective of S/O but no more than the rest of him team. This doesn’t change after they become more official, to have a relationship with him there has to be a tremendous amount of trust.

But Levi starts to notice that S/O is starting to compete with Erwin and his Ackerman genes kick in around them sometimes. It’s weird and that’s when he starts to think he’s in trouble around them.

Eventually they go on a mission and it’s super bad, a lot of people die and nothing gets accomplished- maybe they even lose a member of the team.

They’re just sort of sitting in silence, exhausted, leaning against each other when Levi says “I’m glad your safe, I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t” and from there it moves into a kiss and then a little more...

The next morning Levi feels like shit for being “weak” but doesn’t regret it, he’s just not sure if it was a good idea. 

Has similar reservations to Erwin but doesn’t take as long to break and gives in, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The 104 kids go to S/O before Levi when they want something (The classic ask mom (or the nice parent) before dad)

Hange getting together with S/O

The least brooding about relationships. Still has similar concerns but is more in the camp of “Would rather love and lost than never loved at all”

Probably bonding a lot over what else but Titan anatomy

Hange would fall for anyone who let them go on for hours about their favorite topic. 

Knows the have feelings for S/O for a while but waits to act until the perfect time because they’re dramatic.

The confession has to be the best part though: Hange and S/O are fighting a Titan together, Hange gleefully so, and once it’s cut down they stand on top of the corpse and yell “I LOVE YOU S/O”.

Erwin and Levi see the whole thing and are equally surprised and not surprised. 

S/O is either in the same boat as them or equally unhinged and thinks it’s super romantic. 

Either way they spend the rest of the mission assisting each other in kills and S/O watching Hange’s back as they try to conduct research. When they get back home it’s straight to the lab for more research. Of both Titan and human anatomy ;)

Levi thinks he’s free of babysitting Hange. He is very wrong. Now he has two people he’s gotta look after. 

[whosjunglejim4322]

Bramosia | J.Seo (m)

Genre: pwp, knight!au, smut, fluff, he is, and I can't stress this enough, madly in love with you

Warnings: loss of virginity, pussy eating, mutual pining and longing, it's forbidden but who's gonna stop u??? Exactly. Inaccurate descriptions of the time period probably, inappropriate use of the word princess, he fucks you to tears, this is so self indulgent I gotta blast

The moons unearthly luminescence bleeds through the windows that sit directly above your wing of the old castles corridor, a reminder of why he bears the heavy sword that hangs off of his hip, of why he's here in the first place.

He rolls his aching neck, blinking his dry eyes a few times in an attempt to dampen them. He's usually not so worn by now.

Perhaps the two of you had gotten too carried away last night, it's too easy when you're with eachother. Effortless, like that of a flowers perianth traveling wistfully through a summers breeze. It's easy to forget.

He's here to protect you, nothing more, as he is was a proffesional in all that he does. He is a knight, after all. One of the best. Your father wouldn't have requested him from a province so far away if he weren't damn good.

Six months ago, it seems like a lifetime away and yet the memory of seeing you for the very first time is so vivid behind his eyelids, tangible as if he could reach out and hover his palms over the warmth the halo around you seemed to emit.

He smiles to himself, the image keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache in the soles of his feet. He knows you're probably not sleeping, he wishes you wouldn't worry about him. He's doing it to himself, really.

He is a warrior but he is only so strong, so resilient. He has never been stricken by such a force as to have his bones feel as weak as they do when he looks into your eyes, when you cup his face in your hands like he is the most delicate thing you have ever seen. 

Sure, he hadn't been the most nonchalant. His eyes barely left you even during the brief moments in which his life is not sworn over to do so, and you being you, caught him almost every time. You'd smile, fleeting enough for only him to notice.

You never get the credit you deserve, he had come to find out over the past several months. Being a princess, as fawned over the title may be, it wasn't meant for you.

You'd scowl at the name of every prince your father mentioned might come visit, which he'd take pride in secretly. You wouldn't even scold him whenever he'd been clearly protective in a manner than suggested that it was more than just the job that inclined him to act that way.

Perceptive, and clever you are. And to think, you might feel even a fraction of what he feels, it causes his heart to thunder loudly behind his sturdy ribcage, momentarily reducing his fatigue.

You are the only one in all of his twenty five years of life that has threatened to shake his very foundation, like you've found a way to wind yourself through every ridge of his skeleton like vines of Wisteria.

Sundays are always the hardest, you're still so fresh in his mind, on his skin. It's like every inch of him has been permanently marked, he can still feel the weight of your body against his and the warm puff of air from your lips against his earlobe as you sing his name.

His sigh is quiet in the vast, empty space around him. He shouldn't be thinking of you so late, when he's so tired. It makes him ache for you all the more, make him wish life was anything but what it is now. That he could be with you unabashedly.

That he could be your protector, and not just in a way that could be be permanently devastated if anyone were to find out about the two of you.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes, not until he has to peel them open and search for the source of the soft voice he's just heard whisper his name into the dark.

He furrows his brows as a stream of warm candlelight spills through the crack in your door from your room, your form coming into a few just a moment later, as if beckoned from his dreams.

"You're really going to stay out there, John?" He foresees your incredulity, smiling at the hand thats propped up on your hip.

"Those are my orders, princess." He has a hard time not staring at you, even in such poor lighting you are still the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

He's always stubborn about breaking the made up rules you two have put in place, like only meeting in private on Saturdays. Despite his inability to resist you he still needs to keep you safe.

"My father is a whole wing away, don't you know," you emphasize your point by stepping out past your doorframe, tiptoeing at an almost imperceptible pace towards him. "and if danger were to arise, how much more convenient need it be, than for you to be right there with me?"

You're standing right in front of him now, weaking his resolve eith each syllable that passes those pretty lips of yours. It's strange, how he still wonders if your feelings for him are resolute as his are for you, when you're the one always asking for trouble. Eager to have your way.

When you reach out to grab his waist, he breaks.

"Princess, if someone were to see that I'm not outside of your room guarding as I'm supposed to,"

You interrupt him, pressing yourself closer until he can feel your chest against his, the barrier of his clothing suddenly a burden far heavier than before.

"Who? Who might see? Everyone is asleep, you should be."

You stare up at him and he can't seem to resist the pull, meeting your eyes and unclapsing his hands from behind his back to stroke the apple of your cheek with his knuckles.

You heel into his touch, beaming as you realise you've already gotten your way, evident in the way he sighs your name as if the word fills him with oxytocin.

"You really are trouble," he cups your face, calloused fingertips swiping a fallen lash from underneath your eye. "trying to lure me in, like a siren. I'd be willing to go, anyways."

You lift yourself to the tips of your toes, pressing a brief, featherlight, kiss to the surface of his lips. Just enough to bring forth warmth to his cheeks.

"You're silly, I'd be too selfish a siren to do any damage. I'd have to keep you all to myself."

His arms are strong and steady as the encapsulate you, the fears and worries of outside intruders fading with each second spent in eachothers presence. It's like nothing else exists.

"Please, Princess. It's hard enough already, to be away from you," he's on the verge of losing any bit of hope for his sanity, but as anticipated, you won't have it.

"And you don't think it's hard for me? You think that I enjoy knowing that it is prohibited for me to be like this with you? I am many things but I am not selfish, so if you don't want to come with me then I won't force you."

He has to bite back a laugh, or maybe a scream of frustration and agony all at the same time. Here you are, so close he's sure you can hear how his pulse pounds beneath his skin at your presence, actually accusing him of not wanting you. It's preposterous.

You glare up at him when his arms don't loosen their grasp.

"You must be mistaken, sorely mistaken. If you think that any moment spent without you is even the least bit pleasant for me, you're wrong. So wrong it's a bit humorous," he kisses your cheek, and then the other. Your skin tingles where his lips grace.

"You may not be selfish but I am. So selfish that I'd give into my own desires even if it meant that one slip up could ruin it all. Don't you see that?" You sigh blissfully, in spite of his words, when he kisses your nose.

"Well I think that's stupid, I'd never let such a thing happen. I've lived here my whole life, I'd be able to predict the likelihood of someone coming up here during such a late hour."

He doesn't miss the pitch of sadness that comes with talk of the castle, he knows that there is so much you still have yet to experience. So much you'd like to do, so far away from here.

Still, he can't deny the truth in which you speak. You're right, and he knows that you're as careful of these things as he is. He trusts you, as you trust him. And what is he going to do, say no? He'd never have the willpower.

His broad shoulders relax, his hands suddenly engulfing yours.

"Alright, you don't have to pout anymore. You know I'll end up kissing it from that pretty face of yours anyways."

You suppress a giggle of elation, squeezing your fingers around his as you turn to quietly pull him into your room, peering into the the hallway once more to make sure the coast is clear, before you ease your door shut.

And then at once, he is what you taste on your tongue.

His lips always leave you breathless. The way he kisses you, it's as of you are his only source of oxygen and his lungs burn with the need for air. He is fierce, but so very concise. You almost forget that he so ruefully pretended to put up a fight.

Your arms mold around his neck as he slouches the slightest bit in order to make the reach easier for you, knowing how you like to bury your hands in his hair and tug at the strands whenever he does something that you'd like more of.

Your eagerness is a bit more exuberant tonight, normally you'd still be a bit bashful, giggling between pecks and having to turn your face away before kissing him again.

But you haven't pulled away from him yet, not even for a breath and suddenly his skin is sweltering towards what feels like a hundred degrees. He's pretty sure you've just whispered his name.

He's already gone, helplessly lost in the way you're clinging onto him with all your strength.

"John." Just his name falling from your lips in the form of a sweet sigh has his knees buckling.

He's careful, hesitant even, when he cups the back of your knees and allows you to fall atop your bed, the sight almost too much to bear. He can never catch a break.

But he has to look at you, has to see the look in your eyes, the gleam that shines in your blown out pupils as your fingers tug at the clothing hanging loosely on his body. He fights back a groan.

Of course things have gotten intense between the two of you, but nothing more than over the clothes petting. And, even then, that drove him to the brink of insanity. He didn't think he could ever be putty in someone's hands until he met you.

It feels like everything is happening so fast yet not slow enough, it seems as if you're blooming like a lotus before his eyes and he wants to capture every little detail. Just incase one day his memories are all he has of you.

You pull him back down to your mouth, legs suddenly looping around his trim waist, knees locked on either side. You practically purr as his hands, large and tender, grace your thighs only to be met with bare skin where your nightgown has risen up.

He's breathing heavily when your mouths depart momentarily, his doe eyes an onyx pit of desire and emotion as he stares down at you, lips ruby red.

You nod, as if reading his mind and answering the dozens of unanswered questions that sit unmoving at the tip of his tongue. Still, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, in tentative restraint.

"You can touch me. Please, touch me."

Your skin is heavenly underneath his trembling touch, from the soft hair atop your thighs to the way you so perfectly mold around his fingers. You're a gift of the most ethereal kind, here in front of him.

You coo at him with a voice of an angel, pulling at his face in an attempt to have him kiss you again. He's been too busy ogling, and repays you with the press of his mouth against the crook of your neck.

You lift your chin to allow him more access, eyes fluttering closed and thighs tightening around his middle when you feel the warmth of his open mouth against your throat.

"You're so sweet, so pretty." He mumbles, practically floating.

He nips at your collarbone, and you can't stop your hips from bucking up against him, your clothed center meeting his hardened length through the material of his bottoms.

The air is thick with tension now, you can feel it buzzing through the both of you like ths thrum of a thunderstorm. He sucks in a breath, lips ghosting over yours.

"I want to make you feel good, If you'd allow me." He tries to control the shake in his voice but he's not sure he's succeeded. What a mess you've made of him.

You kiss him for what seems like the hundredth time but feels like the first, still sending jolts of electricity through your body and causing heat to swirl in your loins. You can barely speak.

"Y-Yes, yes I'll allow you."

Your voice is foreign to your own ears, clouded with desire and a desperation that is as overwhelming as it is strange and new.

But having him here, knowing he's the one whose hands are touching you, it's comforting in a way that leaves no room for doubt that he is nothing but kind. Nothing but adoring.

It's hard to tell with just the luminosity of a single candle on your bedside table, but you're almost certain you can feel him shuffle. At least, his weight seems to have shifted, his arms suddenly caged around your waist, upperhalf between your legs.

And then you feel it, the plushness of his lips just above your knee as he lifts your legs by your calves, placing them over his shoulders. You're not sure you can focus on anything else now, breathing suddenly heavy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His voice is so close, yet far away in an unfamiliar way. It has butterflies swarming your belly.

"I'm so lucky, so so lucky..." He trails off between kisses, shifting from one thigh to the other, slowly but surely making his way towards your center.

It's only now in your bird brain that you're beginning to realize what exactly he's about to do, and it's like some switch inside of you has been flicked on, toes suddenly curling in anticipation, wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

The desire isn't just in your belly now, its everywhere. All consuming, when he pushes your nightgown up and bunches it around your hips, the air cool against your skin. You shiver, and his cheek brushes against the crease of your thigh.

"Have you ever been touched like this, princess?" He's curious but not pushy, just wants to know. When you shake your head, he swallows.

He's slow and steady, pulling your underwear off your hips and down your legs, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. You don't clamp your legs shut, despite the instinct to shield yourself. You've never hidden yourself from him, and you know there's no reason to.

Esepcially not when he's looking at you like he is right now, like a man starved whose just been presented with a meal of his favorite kind. He glances up at you, with eyes that shine with gratitude, and awe alike. You reach out to stroke his hair.

And then, suddenly, his face is gone from your view. You feel it, first, before you register that it's happening. A gasp leaves your lips the moment your back arches ever so slightly off of your mattress, his hands keeping your thighs apart as his tongue licks another flat stripe through your folds.

You feel exposed in a way that only feels as intoxicating as it does, because he's the one with his mouth on your cunt, suckling your bud between his lips and swiveling his head side to side. You tug at his hair.

A guttural groan resonates in his throat and the vibration serves as direct stimulation, a mewl leaving your mouth as you buck you hips up against his skilled tongue.

"Shhh baby, stay quiet for me," you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at him with stars in your eyes. "I know, I know sweetheart." He reads the pleading in your eyes, soothingly rubbing your hips as he delves back in.

It's not easy to stay quiet. Not at all.

If you'd thought him rubbing your clit through your clothes was something to be noisy over, nothing prepared you for this.

He's so good at it, so generous with every lap of his tongue. The sounds are lewd and loud in the shared space, and his tongues pace only increases when you reach down to find his hands. He intertwines your fingers before you give him the hint.

You try to keep your volume low, your whimpers almost inaudible but loud enough to spurr him on, to have his hips rutting against the bed while he kisses your cunt with passion only a lover could have.

Bliss overcomes you faster than you expect, and swallows you whole like a vicious, unmerciful hurricane.

Your thighs tremble against his strength as he keeps them parted when they threaten to close, your fingers twisted in the comforter as tears well in your eyes.

You're not sure if you're making any noise, the light too bright behind your eyes, bones suddenly weightless as his tongue licks you clean. You twitch, aware that you've let out a whine. The feeling is agonizingly pleasant.

You're still throbbing when his hands suddenly grasp your jaw, head lolling in his direction as he presses his lips to yours. He's serene, slipping his tongue into your mouth, humming.

You're certain, now. Certain that you need to have him in every way there is to have someone, for your heart may forever be unsettled if it doesn't get to taste what it's like to love him wholly, completely.

"I want to-" you've got his rapt attention, as you always do, and he stares down at you with a lovesick expression as you struggle to find the strength to say it out loud.

He's grown accustomed to reading your countenance, only time allowing him to grasp the meaning behind every crease and line that forms on your face, he's certain you could give him one look and he'd instantly know what it is that you're trying to say.

One perk to having a secret rendezvous, though he still needs to hear you say it. He'd only take your word for it regarding something like this, something that he's dreamt about more times that he'd like to admit.

He can't hide his surprise, thumbs stroking your face.

"You want me to..." he quirks an inquisitive brow, nearly becoming distracted when your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. "you want me to be your first?"

Even the words have you latching onto him tighter, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Yes, I want that very much...do you...also want that?"

He grins, widely and for a moment you forget he was born to be made of steel, that he's fought all of his life and has bruised his skin for the sake of his kingdom. You want to kiss away every bad memory in his head.

"How could you even think you have to ask? I want nothing more, just you. You're all I'll ever want."

The veracity in his voice, suddenly hoarse, makes your skin feel like it's being tickled by a million, tiny feathers. You never knew anything could feel like this.

A heartbeat later, your hands are slipping underneath his top to make an attempt at pulling it off, your excitment not a good match for your lack of coordination. Of course, he doesn't mind helping.

He slips his sword from his hip while you stare up at him with wide eyes of reverence and desire, so much of him being exposed at once causing a swelter of heat to boil underneath your skin.

Your hands are hesitant, hovering around his lithe hips as he sits back on his haunches, chest rapidly rising and falling as the atmosphere begins to soak into his pores. He can't believe he gets to make love to you.

"You can touch me, princess," he's the one reassuring you now, knowing that beyond your headstrong personality when you're with him, you're still so timid; trembling like a leaf in autumn.

His dexterous fingers gently grasp your wrists, placing your palms over his abdomen, keeping your gaze all the while, head nodding in encouragement.

He's soft, soft on the surface at least. The soft down that covers his honey colored skin is like silk underneath your fingers, a juxtaposition to the rigid muscle underneath that flexes as your fingertips move upwards towards the broad planes of his chest.

You hook your fingers around his shoulders, and pull him down to your mouth, determined as your heart bellows inside of your body.

It's wilder this time, the wet sounds loud in your ears, his tongue waltzing with yours. You rake your nails down his sides, and he damn near growls.

It's a blur, the way he slips the straps of your gown from off of your shoulders, before removing the garment completely and throwing it behind him. Somewhere in between he pulls the covers out from underneath you, sensing the chill that runs through you like a tremor from the exposure.

It's during that brief moment when you're too drunk on adrenaline, that your fingers begin pulling at the buckle of his bottoms, too eager again and not being able to unfasten it correctly. Always the gentlemen, he does it for you, again.

He's careful now, not completely planting himself against you yet when he kisses your neck and takes your breasts in his massive palms, squeezing indulgently.

You pull him up by the ridge of his jaw, wrapping your legs around his middle as you had previously, letting out a small gasp as his hard length suddenly comes to lie heavy between your legs when you beckon him closer by your heels on his back.

"You're sure you want me?" He slips his hand that's not cupping your cheek, down in between your bodies to rub your clit with his middle finger, actually expecting you to be able to speak coherently. He supresses his gasp upon feeling the abundance of your essence.

It's hard to focus, when he's looking down at you like that, when you can feel every ridge and curve of his naked body against yours. Perhaps it's being able to to tell that he's feeling the same way just by the way he speaks, that makes it so intoxicating.

"You're all I'll ever want." You echo his earlier words, and his laughter fills your ears like a lullably. You reach out to push his dark hair out from in front of his eyes, his lips catching your palm and placing a kiss to the center.

"It'll hurt, I'll go as slow as you need me to." You see the worry creased between his brow, and you soothe it away by clenching your thighs around his waist, silently beckoning him.

"Please, please fuck me."

It takes him by surprise, cock twitching against your sex. You sound so sweet, so angelic even when you're requesting something so filthy.

He lifts himself on his forearms, reaching down to grasp his shaft. Your hands are in his hair a the while, fingers tracing shapes across the nape of his neck. You suck in a breath when he rubs the tip against your clit, arousal leaking from your slit.

He rubs his cock against you like this, through your silken folds and back up to your sensitive nub, until your head is thrown back against the pillows, face turned to the side and canorous mewls slipping past your lips.

Your eyes flutter open when he kisses you, finally prodding your entrance, readying you. Your teeth gently sink into the plush surface of his bottom lip, as if urging him to continue.

Your mouth falls open when he begins to push himself inside of you. You have to brace yourself by clinging onto his biceps, reminding yourself to breathe.

If you weren't as wet for him as you are, you're sure it would be more painful. It still stings, even more so as he begins to bottom out, using every bit of self control he has as to make sure he doesn't accidentally rut into you with too much force.

He meets your eyes when he's fully sheathed inside of you, your fingernails leaving crescent moons in his skin. He doesn't mind it one bit.

"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his voice is accompanied by his lips across your cheeks, down your jaw, over your eyelids.

"Mhm. J-Just stay like this, for a second, please." Your walls flutter around him and his eyes fall heavy. He stays as still as he can for the moment, fingers massaging your soft hip.

"I never thought...never dreamed we'd get to do this." He speaks in an irrevocable way, swelling your heart over two times its size with how he talks about you. Like you're truly something magical.

You wiggle your hips, his gaze searching for yours and lighting up with newfound determination when you give him conformation to move. He slowly drags himself out, before pushing himself back in.

"If you only knew...how much I truly think of you." You speak steadily despite the wave of pleasure that ripples through your body, from the pit of your stomach outwards, touching every nerve.

He's big, bigger than you expected, but curved in a way that has you fighting a cry. Your lungs ache with the need to make noise, to express how it feels to have him inside of you like this. You squeeze around him, and he smashes his lips against yours.

You never thought it would feel like this, you'd heard mixed reviews but clearly none of them had ever experienced what it's like to have someone like him demonstrating their skill.

He's precise, a little shaky but only because he's concentrating on not literally cumming after two minutes. You're everything he's ever wanted and more, you're soaked and warm around him, chest pressed flush against his. Your hardened nipples threaten to distract him.

His hair tickles your forehead as he begins to create a steady pace. He's got one hand behind your right thigh, cupping it and hiking it up just the slightest bit while he fucks into you, curling his hips.

He swallows your moans, tasting the sense of surrealness on your tongue. He feels it too, groaning when you tug a tuft of his hair.

"You're mine, all mine, fuck." His voice is hoarse, hips stuttering as he begins to rock into you, not completely pulling himself out of you before nudging your cervix again. His mouth catches the edge of your jaw, then your earlobe.

He buries his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his hair as you keep yourself quiet. He can still feel the way you're shivering, the whispers of cries that are audible when you breathe.

"I'm yours, I'm yours." You're not sure you could ever feel this way about someone else, and not just because he is all that every single one of your senses seemed to be attuned to.

He's deep inside of you, reaching places you never would be able to by yourself, and still holds you like you're the entire world. Despite the need that consumes you both, he takes his time.

You feel him everywhere. On your neck, your throat, down to your clavicle where his hot tongue soothes over the mark he's just made.

You can almost feel him in your belly, the tip of his cock nudging the sweet spot of nerves deep within you causing your body to jerk in his hold. He takes note and is determined to drive you over the edge, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

He's yearned for it too long, and nothing his mind could have conjured up would ever compare again.

He lets go of your leg only to bring his hand to where your bodies are connected as one, your face contorted into a mask of pleasure as he begins to rub at your clit, in circular motions, with the same rythym as his thrusts.

"John, ohhh, you f-feel so good." You're slurring your words, high off of his affection. Your belly feels hot, a pressure just behind your navel leaving you writhing, trying to match his pace.

"Yeah? Feels good to have me inside of you?" He's being cruel now, already knowing the answer by the way tears are swelling in your eyes for the second time tonight, irisises shining back at him.

Your hands roam his sides, settling on his hips as you turn your face to hide it against his bicep. He kisses any expanse of skin that he can reach, till the wet spots leave a trail of chills along your body.

You're close, and he knows it. You're already leaking onto the bed, dripping down his shaft.

"J-John...p-please." You're blubbering now, and his fingers circle your clit faster, just enough to have you breathless and unable to speak as his strokes become inconsistent, cock throbbing.

"Shh, I got you baby, gonna make you cum okay? Want you to let go."

Looking up into his eyes, it's hard to resist. Suddenly it's the first time you've met and you're awestruck by his beauty all over again, by the sharp planes of his face that you'd come to realize are soft underneath your touch.

You're kissing him again for the first time, and his lips are as plush and pillowy as they look, his hands big and wsrm as they hold your face steady against his mouth.

You realize you're in love with him for the first time again, staring into honey colored irises and listening to his velvet voice, aware that when he's gone it feels like a piece of you has been taken along with him.

Your body suddenly stills, save for your back arching and his body, sturdy and whole, there to anchor you while you forget you breathe. Your orgasm is all the more powerful this time, with him inside of you, and it's like once youre unraveling it doesn't stop.

He holds the back of your head and allows you to muffle your cries against his chest, fingers latching onto any part of him you reach first, as if you might fall of the face of the earth. He's still rubbing your clit, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear.

You don't pick up all of it, only vaguely aware of the tremor in his tone as he says your name.

And then he's locked against you, every muscle in his body rigid and hard as a strained, muffled whimper resonates from beside your head. He's biting into a pillow, as warmth fills you to the brim and he sloppily fucks it into you.

You're still reeling, when he kisses you like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years and is finally getting the chance to touch them again, to wordlessly express how enamored they are. Wholeheartedly, and irreversibly.

He says it first, which surprises you, considering in your dreams you're always the one professing it to him, stroking his skin or petting his hair and whispering it in between kisses.

But you're sure this is real, you can feel ache in your bones, the throb of your centers where they're still connected.

"I love you." His voice is even more beautiful when he's speaking in such a simple, yet profound way. There's a quiver, but not because he's not being honest. He'd swear on his life, for his conviction.

"I love you too." You reply, looping your fingers round the nape of his neck, toying with the soft hair there.

Maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, but he is. His face can't hide it, the quirk of his full lips, the furrow of disbelief in his brow. You want to kiss his stupid face a thousand time over.

"I love you." He repeats it, as if the words bring forth sunshine on a day shrouded by the darkness of rain clouds.

He repeats it again, when he's hovering over your lips, breath warm against your skin. He repeats it again when he's placing kisses to your forehead, when you giggle and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you, silly silly man." You remind him, willing him by the longing in your voice, to believe it as you believe him.

He repeats it again, when a tear cascades down your cheek like a diamond shaped declaration of your honesty, and he kisses it away, claiming it for himself.

You love him, and he loves you.

And maybe, no matter what happens, that'll be enough.