#mutual hours uwu

[theklaapologist]

“There’s no yuri in dmmd 😔” what are sei and usui then

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[from-izzy]

double a decade | tbz kim sunwoo

Double a decade—no, more than that. 

​PAIRING » tbz kim sunwoo x gn!reader (proofread twice! lmk if i missed anything!)​ TROPE/AU » ​childhood friends to lovers, non-idol au!, holiday season au! (starts a little bit from christmas up to new years!) GENRE​ » it's so fluffy like wow...i'm not going to write something so fluff for sunwoo for a while after this, a tinge of angst, SUNWOO AND READER ARE BOTH IDIOTS, sunwoo thought his love was one-sided, very shy kim sunwoo, sunwoo being very cute and patient to the reader, reader is sick and sunwoo takes care of them uwu, they platonically share the same bed, big spoon sunwoo who is physically bigger than you and holds you to sleep, MUTUAL PINING REEEEEE, a ton of hugs from kim sunwoo because he's so...ugh, reader blushing cause of kim sunwoo, sunwoo giving his jackets that're oversized for you to use (ahhhh) WORD COUNT » 5760 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is sick with a fever (if you're actually sick, please isolate yourself!), kim sunwoo being a shy idiot, one swear word (but cuts through halfway)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

my last story for 2023! looking forward to the new year! happy 2024 everyone!

thank you for reading and screaming with me @winterchimez, @heemingyu and @mosviqu !! you three were so chaotic 😭 like ally really whipped out my government name, i couldn't tell whether sana was mad at me or sunwoo, and bar was...yeah...uhm...yeah!

(i suffered so much with the banner, i need to stop looking at it now)

Even you found this situation absurd.

How could something so beautiful cause you to have tissues and wet towels lying around your heating body? It’s bittersweet to know that the things that made you enwrap in the layer of heated and weighted blankets are the same ones every year that fall nicely from the hues of orange and red sky. Maybe it’s the headache or the jealousy as you hear the excited shrills of the children outside the window having fun and throwing the cold ball of death to each other’s faces. It’s probably also the fact that you’re at the time of your month, the cramps around the underside of your stomach in addition to the scratchy itch on your throat that makes swallowing hard. 

In the end, this year’s Christmas has been wasted and you could only cry under the sheets alone, convincing your parents not to enter as you knew they had to return to work as soon as the holidays ended. You truly regretted your past naive and idiotic self for making a snow angel without proper winter battle clothes. The effect took a massive toll on your body, especially with the amount of hours you have been working and the stress of it all. The way you spent Christmas was lonely as you looked down to the ground floor where your family gathered, a warm blanket slouched on your messy, unwashed hair. The distance between your pout and their smiles wasn’t too far but because of your dying voice and their charged voice, even your mother could barely hear your Christmas greetings.

But, there was someone in your life who still barged into your highly contaminated room with his raccoon loverboy beanie and matching handmade raccoon scarf that you gifted for him this Christmas. Even with your refutes and arguments, he just shrugs, refusing to let you spend the holiday season time alone. 

Every year has always been the same at this time of the year. From when the clock strikes midnight when the jingle bells ring from the city hall up to your room, up until around noon, you would spend it with your family. From noon, when you and your best friend would be amazed at how the snowman still kept its shape up until around dinner time, you would be all over the neighbourhood with him. Then cues the opening of gifts underneath the green tree with ornaments from your grandparents’ age, the smile plasters on everyone’s faces as choruses of ‘thank you’s would be said. Three hours before Christmas day passes, you would retreat to your room, only to have a visitor open your door, the pile of snow between the strands of his hair making the wood of your floor a tripping hazard.

Every year has always been the same for you both and Kim Sunwoo is determined to make sure that it would still be that way. The boy has always made every single Christmas memorable from the day you both were in diapers to now. He made sure that Christmas this year isn’t wasted and he proves that solidly.

Now, another day of fighting begins as you pray for your fever to die down in time for the approaching new year. Contrary to your wishes, your whole body feels like it’s been shut down, feeling too effortful to even raise a finger despite it lying on your bed for the last twenty hours.

“Sunwoo��” The tears well up in your eyes, wishing that you could at least pick up the phone to hear his stories about the day. 

“I got you!” 

The door clicks open to reveal his toothy, mischievous smile. In one hand, a filled fabric bag is held as the other fist punches the sky eagerly. If you could, you would’ve chucked all the layers of fabric to the ground for all you care, clinging onto the boy like a koala. He understands the thoughts roaming in your head as soon as he sees the way the ceiling light highlights the sweat on your forehead and the moisture around the bottom of your eyes. 

The once-upturned corners of his mouth dipped and so did his shoulders. With his free hand, the door closed quietly. He slowly approaches you, kneeling on the floor beside your bed. Sunwoo takes his mittens off, tilting his head and his furrowed eyebrows match his solemn smile. 

“The new year is literally in three days and I’m still here all wrapped up like a mummy.” He unfolded one of the new towels on your bedside table, dapping the sweat away from your flushed face. “I hate this…”

Sunwoo couldn’t hide his true feelings either, missing having you healthy by his side for more than a whole week now. The night walks were now leaning more toward miserable than lonely. He misses the way you would wrap your nearest arm with his, the other hand loosely anchoring on as well as you both comment on whatever comes into your mind. It’s during those times that you would be so preoccupied with your words that the world around him becomes silent, looking down at the slope of your nose and the shape of your moving lips dearly. 

If you look up towards him, you can see the way that Sunwoo’s eyes relax and the corners of his lips lift just slightly, looking at you with utmost adore and affection. His cheeks would be red, not because of the chilly wind, but because his heart is telling him to just hold you close, confess and kiss you deeply into the night. 

It’s no exaggeration to say that the fluttering feeling in his heart, gave his body more warmth than the mittens, beanie, scarf and winter outfit.

“It’ll pass soon, don’t worry,” Sunwoo reassures you, straightening his legs and heading to your bathroom. There, he shrieks and the laugh from the joined room, where you lay in bed with a new cold wet towel on your burning forehead tells him that you did it on purpose. “I thought that was real!” His head peaks out slightly from the bathroom door with the toy cockroach in his hand, throwing it on the duvet where it conveniently plops upside down.

“I need some laughs, okay?” It only earned an eye roll from Sunwoo, who closed the bathroom door.

Your eyes widen at the familiar actions, the sprinkling of water confirming your thoughts.

“Sunwoo!” You scold him. “You can’t stay over! I’m literally sick!”

“I’ll be fine!”

These are the only words that he says, ignoring the rest of your complaints and nagging; he knows though, that it’s just because you care for his health and wellbeing.

Your lips could only form a big mountain when Sunwoo finally does exit your now sauna-like bathroom. He had his favourite raccoon onesie on, his used clothes in one hand and was supported with his chest to avoid it from toppling over his hold. A toothbrush is leisurely in his mouth, the frothing around the inside of his lips tells you that he has no second thoughts about staying over. 

“You can’t, Woo.” An exasperated sigh comes out as soon as he slips into the room. “Why don’t you ever listen to what I say?”

The toothbrush stops its rustling sound against his healthy, white teeth and you can tell from the way his hands land on the side of his waist that he has a complaint back about you.

“As if you’ll ever listen to me.” And the rustling continues with a tune of a song.

“Touche.”

There is one thing that changed from your usual sleepovers but again, you’re not complaining as it is the best choice. Sunwoo takes out the spare roll-up mattress after excitedly knocking on your parent’s room for help. You could hear how your parents are beyond surprised by the visit but you could only smile when you hear the way they scold Sunwoo for wanting to stay beside you with your condition.

For some odd reason, he was still able to walk back into your room, showing off the white fabric on his shoulder that he held, shoulder way too high for your liking as his pride replaces the gloomy atmosphere in the room.

“Make some sort of distance between you and my bed please.”

Your tone is no longer playful, almost tired and most definitely worried. Sunwoo nods, his lips pulling into a line. At this moment, when Sunwoo sets up his bed for the night away from you, you don’t realise the clench in your heart, your hand swishing over the space beside you where he would usually cuddle with you to sleep.

“This alright?” Pulling off his sparkly doe eyes, shooting you a smile that you couldn’t possibly refute. “Alright! Goodnight!” He cheers when you nod defeatedly.

With a flick of the switch, the only thing that allows you to see your covered feet is the moonlight from outside. Sunwoo is in a better position because the lower level means that your bed blocks the shine enough for him to slumber back to sleep.

For some reason, you couldn’t. Your body is still, your eyelids shut and your calm breathing would’ve fooled anyone that you were actually in dreamland. In reality, all you could hear was Sunwoo’s more soothing snores, the sudden feeling that nothing was covering you and the uncomfortable feeling of staying awake.

Your eyelids shoot open once more, staring at the lines and scratches that managed to make it there. Maybe it was a chaotic cat? Or a really strong spiky fly? Or maybe, a ghost? Continuing a questionable amount of ideas. You didn’t even realise when your body turned to the side where Sunwoo was. Without thinking much, your arm reaches for the expensive headpiece straight to the once-slumbering boy.

Disturbed between reality and dreams, his body immediately straightens up, turning his head at you. “Hey!”

“Sorry.” You did feel guilty, not knowing that your impulse actions would jolt him so much; but your laugh tells him that once again, you did plan it with some sort of naughty reason.

Like the antagonist of a scary movie, Sunwoo’s head dips down slightly, his bangs covering his eyes and his cheek rising with menacing thoughts in his head. Suddenly, he jumps over to the mattress, wiggling his fingers all over your body.

“S-Stop! Sunwoo!” He didn’t bother doing so, his heart delighted at the sound of your laughter after so long. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you pathetic raccoon!”

“Oh, you’re really asking for it!”

It’s a miracle that none of your parents didn’t woke up after almost five minutes of different volumes of laughter. After a week or so of copping up in your room, unable to properly see your best friend, he makes his mark on the winter holiday, knowing that every time you fall sick with a fever, you’ll recall this fun memory.

“Can’t sleep?” 

He retreats to the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. Yet, he has his full focus on the way your smile gradually falls into a frown. His hands move under the blanket, finding yours. As soon as he feels you, his fingers intertwine with yours. Automatically, your thumb caresses Sunwoo’s, calming enough for him to sleep. Eyelids heavy but not completely down yet, your brown orbs observe the way Sunwoo kneels beside you.

“Sunwoo…”

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for staying.” 

His eyes widen slightly but he then lets out a small chuckle. “Just doing your lovely parents a favour.” 

“No.” He gulps at your seriousness, watching the way that even though your back is facing the natural light source, the growing waters underneath your eyelids make his other hand reach out for you, the movement shaking your tears down. “I meant in life. Thank you for staying with me another year.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, the darkness quietly enveloping you. Sunwoo just lets out a soft sigh, your words making his heart beat too rapidly for him to sleep tonight. 

“I love you.” 

There…

He rehearsed the confession in the mirror many times, different scenarios each time, a different object in his hand every time as he imagined the perfect gift that he would give if he was ever given a chance to pour his feelings into you. A part of him wishes you heard it, hoping that you didn’t keep this friendship going. 

The mattress that he worked hard to retrieve from your parents is left untouched for the rest of the night. Forget about his well-being for a second, prioritising the love in his heart. Forget about being sick if it meant being able to hold you in his arms just like all those times. Forget about your scoldings that he would only stick his tongue out nonchalantly to. Sunwoo climbs on the opposite side, his usual spot in your bed. He carefully slips his body inside, the air a thousand times warmer, almost making him wince at the sudden temperature rise that he didn’t expect.

For one last time in the night, he wipes your forehead clean, pressing a lingering kiss on the area. Your body recognises the dip of the bed, turning to the other side and hiding your eyes from the glare of the night into Sunwoo’s beating chest. Perplexed but still somewhat composed, he lets you get comfortable first, both of your hands reaching up to the fabric of his collar, tugging it slightly as a satisfied smile makes its way onto your relaxed face. 

“I love you.” 

He says once more.

“I love you so much, bubs.” 

A little bit louder.

“I love you so much but,” He rests his head on the pillow, pulling you further into his embrace with his hand curling over the shape of your head. “I don’t think I can stay beside you next year.”

Unrequited love his whole life. 

The trade-off between friendship and love is too much for him to fully digest. 

But as the years pass, Sunwoo knows that there is nothing much he can do but drown in his uncertainties. At the same time, he’s no longer sure how much longer he could fake another smile towards you whenever you were taken out for dates. He’s no longer sure how to keep his heartbeat at bay whenever you accidentally whip your hair across his face whenever he scared you, and the way your first instinct is to squish his cheeks, frown and check up for any hurt on his beautiful face. He’s no longer sure if he could hide the urge to pull you into his chest whenever your fingers would lace together even during the hot summer days.

So Sunwoo made it clear to himself that tonight would be the last time he would bask in your presence. Another unsure kiss is given to your forehead and against the screamings inside his head, he follows his heart to press one on each of your closed lids, whispering loving words that he desperately wishes you would hear. 

“I’m thankful for you too.”

True to his words, Sunwoo is gone by the early morning, the white blob on the floor is gone and so are the used towels that you have used throughout the previous day. Judging from the coolness of the sheets beside you, he must’ve left some time ago and it left a bitter feeling in your whole being when he left no note that would usually snap the drowsiness in you to an immediate deadpan reaction, or contrary a dog video that would make up want to curl up and stay in bed for longer.

Three distinct knocks on the door tell you that your mum has breakfast ready but you can’t respond as enthusiastically as you usually would. 

“You’re looking better today, actually.” The plastic tray rests on the corner of your table. The now-occupied space reminds you of last night when Sunwoo used the same space for his worn-out backpack. Satisfied with the way your forehead is no longer burning and almost back to normal temperature, the woman nods and lets out a sigh of relief. “Must be the Sunwoo effect.”

It did make you forget your confusion for a second, the corners of your slumped lips pulling to a straight line. When you were once again left all alone in the room, the loneliness was unlike ever before. The charging cable is ripped away from your device, opening the messaging app to text Sunwoo a very formal, very awkward morning greeting. Your eyes bore into the bottom left of the screen, seeing if the familiar typing icon would pop out but after around four minutes of empty wishes, the way you shoved your phone under the pillow shows how crestfallen you are with his isolating behaviour. It continued for the rest of the day, your phone never buzzing because of him even though his social media activity shows him posting a new memory to share over the internet.

New Year is around a few hours and to you, it looks like Sunwoo has no plans to change his indifference towards you. Even when Eric says he would make sure that Sunwoo sends a message to you, the only thing that changed in your messaging status with him is the ‘delivered’ to ‘seen’ sign.

“The audacity of this little piece of sh—” 

Your fingers tapped rapidly first, and the floating tiles of your keyboard pour your conflicted emotions with a dash of empty threats to him. It’s infuriating that the only thing he did was still, left you on ‘seen’ but this time, in real-time. 

“Okay, fine!”

Why are you so defeated? Frustrated? Annoyed? Irritated? Worried? Sour? Confused? Are you really going to spend the rest of the year without him? Start the new one without him? Is he really breaking the streak of watching the fireworks together and being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s with a bunch of jumping and squealing? 

Is he mad because you’re the reason why you can’t watch the flowers in the sky with him this year? But Sunwoo knows that you’ve been sick! But if he is, is he so mad to the point that he's going to break the streak of being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s next year because of it? But between you both, you’ve always beaten him by a split second!

“Fine! Be that way then!” If the framed picture of you both had noise sensitivity, you’re sure that it would’ve cowered away and fallen straight to the bin next to it. “Ignore me then! Go have fun with the rest of your friends! Why’d you come here and act like you cared when you were just going to avoid me like this?!”

As if the whole universe isn’t seemingly against you already, the bunny doll that Sunwoo won for you smiled sweetly from the corner of your room. The rubber material of your slippers makes high-pitched slaps and your arms snatch the poor plush by its neck, shaking it back and forth as you start to let out all the cursing in all the languages that you know to the boy in your head.

“You got it!”

You couldn’t hide the excitement on your face as soon as the claw hovers in the hole of the machine, a few seconds away from delivering the prize to your hands. Sunwoo rejoices and is proud after winning against the rigged game with only the first try. 

You try to wait patiently for Sunwoo to give it to you, but the way that your upper body bounces, and the way your slightly wavy hair goes along with the motions of your body, only makes it harder for Sunwoo to properly hand you over the gift. You weren’t doing anything special but he was so in love with you that he couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath at the way your eyes sparkle to him—it didn’t help his case that you were cutely drowning in his jacket. 

“D-Do you love it that much?”

Would it be weird if he snapped a photo of you right now? When your cheeks are smushed against the bunny’s fluffy ones? Would it be weird if he wanted to set it as his wallpaper and just stare at it all day long?

“It’s so cute!” 

You indirectly answered, putting your full attention and affection to the animal in your hands. The way you bopped your nose with its own only fuels his adoration for you and because you’re so immersed in your birthday gift, Sunwoo did manage to get the picture that he desires.

Kim Sunwoo also had it as his lock screen, hiding it within a collage of other memories—it’s the reason why he’s been so protective over his phone for the last few months.

Having had enough of giving the inanimate animal a headache, you threw it onto the floor with a huff, blowing the loose strand of hair away from your vision. All of a sudden, the tears finally well up in your eyes and you let out silent croaked sobs. The hunched-over plushie is the catalyst for your head to replay the memories in your head. With your back against your bed, knees folded to your chest and the bunny sitting on top, the outside world blurs out of existence for a while.

Everything is just Kim Sunwoo.

From the way he smiles.

To the way he drools in his sleep.

From the way he would literally hide you from the outside world, arms enveloping and muffling your cries.

To the way he welcomes the series of punches on his chest because life is too much for you sometimes.

From the way he has your mum on speed dial in case he can’t reach you.

To the way that he would hop into the car to pick you up from your solo late-night, early-morning beach walks still in his pyjamas.

From the way he knew how to comfort you depending on the situation.

To the way he wouldn’t mind submitting his assignment late if it meant that you’ll be able to sleep peacefully.

Your face flares up, recalling the light pressure of his lips on your eyelids the other night and with it, the meaning behind your tight hold on the bunny becomes something entirely different. That’s all it takes for you to rush out the front door, your mum following your rushed actions with her eyes.

“Well,” she shrugs, eyes back to the television of her favourite Christmas movie, “that happened.”

So maybe you should’ve changed to snowing boots or something more appropriate than your slippers but in your body’s adrenaline to keep your body intact for another five minutes when you would reach Sunwoo’s house.

“You’re so—ugh!” 

The crystals falling from the sky are too uncomfortable and you know that you will be bedridden for longer after this but that’s not going to be your fault. Someone else will take the blame for this and you’ll make it clear for him.

It’s only when you reach the front door, hands on your bent knees, throat dry, nose red, cheeks most probably iced due to your tears and the weather that the words all evaporate from your head. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and with the curtain from the living room open just enough for you to see Sunwoo snuggling in the couch with his cup of hot chocolate, the feelings that you have been hiding from him amplified greatly.

You’re so mad at him but you still think he looks cute with the blanket over his head, covering his shoulders and eyes focused so much to the point the colours of the graphics were being reflected on his eyes. Changing the direction from kicking down the front door, you decided to instead gather a lump of ice into your palm, striking it against the window where his face was. 

His body jolts back but it didn’t take long for his mind to register the white remnants crumbling on the glass, window frame and sill. It takes Sunwoo less than a second to take in your shivering figure on the other side of the window and he knows he’s going to get an earful from his mum when she sees the sweet and sticky drink on her carpet.

The coat hanger rattles and almost breaks an arm with how violently Sunwoo takes two of his warmest jackets, swiftly getting ready to meet the cold and starting blizzard outside. He automatically winced when nature slammed the door open, almost stubbing his toe—but maybe that’s his karma for leaving you on read for more than a whole day without a proper explanation.

Sunwoo took his focus away from the throbbing pain, skipping down the stairs, using the spiky handrail for support as he pushed his body up whenever he went down a step lower, relaxing when his feet landed on the ground safely. It’s only been a few minutes since he stepped out of his blanket but now everything is throbbing—his heart as well for a different reason.

Seeing you still facing the window, your hair flying all over the place, your chin basically on your chest, Sunwoo realises that he hurt you badly. Maybe he should’ve just been honest. If so, then at the very least, you wouldn’t chase him out like this when it looks like you just started to feel better. 

“Hey…” his feet make cautious little shuffles, scrunching the remaining mixes of nature and ice, kind of scared for his life that you would start to (rightfully) punch him. Thankfully, he got close enough to drape his jacket onto your shoulder, zipping up the front without asking you to put your arms. If it wasn’t for the fact that he ignored you, he would be teasing and asking you about what you are mulling over. “Let’s go inside, hm?”

Sunwoo sighs at your stubbornness when you shoved his arm away, feet planted on the ground.

“Go away.” 

His heart clenches at the way you probably meant that. It included a hint of hurt, broken the unanswered questions that were swarming your head.

“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo said so softly that you could’ve missed it if it wasn’t the way you were already actively focusing on him. “So please, let’s just get you inside. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

His palm goes over where his heart is and the other hand gives you a reassuring press. Sunwoo knew by the way you refused to look at him despite him bending over to meet your eyes, that this was going to be tough for you to listen to him.

But Kim Sunwoo is patient.

He’s always been patient and understanding when it comes to you. When his hands reach over to envelop yours, you don’t push away how he wraps his own between yours. Your heartbeat picks up its pace when he leads your joined hands into the pocket of his jacket, his thumb gliding over your skin. The act also sends your body closer to his, finally closing the gap between your bodies, sharing body warmth corresponding to the red hues on your cheeks.

Your lips now hover over his outwear and your nose takes his scent in, enjoying breathing in the familiarity after almost two days of no contact. Sunwoo bites his lips, nervous about having you in front of him and the way you tighten your hold on his hands tells him that you have a lot to say. 

“You don’t want to spend the first week of the new year bedridden, bubs.” Wordlessly and timidly, Sunwoo just scans over your facial features, his eyes roaming about while your eyes are stuck on his zipper which is halfway done.

“Don’t call me that…” Because it clicks open the surge of feelings that you have been trying to hide from him for the longest time. “Don’t…”

You were still half awake when he said his words.

Unknowingly to Sunwoo, you heard every single word that you have always wanted to say to him. That night, when his hand wrapped securely around your waist, you had the best sleep in your life, taking a mental note to talk about the topic later on.

Only to realise that you are both idiots with your feelings.

“I’m sor—”

“Stop apologising!” 

And it sends Sunwoo into a puddle of shock and confusion when your eyes send out a waterfall. He separates his hands from yours and they fly quickly to hold your cheeks. Stutters of more apologies string out and his thumbs weren’t fast enough to keep your face dry. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry too!”

“Hey, what are you sorry about? I’m the one who left you on read!”

“I’m sorry that I’ve never told you how much I appreciate you,” you hiccup before continuing, seeing a glimpse of Sunwoo’s gaping mouth, “I’m sorry that you’ve always been the one taking care of me and not the other way around,” and you see the way he shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m sorry that I ever make you think that I don’t care about you!” 

“Hey, no. Don’t say that, I know you care abo—”

“I love you, Kim Sunwoo!” 

To him, even though Christmas has passed, he’s convinced that it’s a miracle for him. The night when he left to stay in your house, he innocently wished upon the shooting star, closing his eyes and hoping for your health and happiness—but he couldn’t help but also wish that you would love him back even though that’s out of his control.

But what can he do when he’s only loved one person and one person throughout his whole life?

“I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I like someone else because I can tell you now that all those dates I went to only made me sure that I’m so in love with you and you make me feel like I can just be myself when I’m around you and I also feel jittery when I’m around you and—”

This is not the type of confession that he has rehearsed for.

He guides your face into his chest, still sobbing and crying. As always, your hands weakly hit him, your lips still voicing out muffled confessions to him. Sunwoo’s arms wrap around your shoulders, the other on top of it. His head dips, his lips breathing out air near your ear, resting his forehead on his arm for stability. He wants to say something, anything to make sure that his avoidance doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you back but all he wants to do is to just hold you closer to make it clear that no one could take you out on another date.

Only he can take you out on dates now.

You sniffle, catching your breath after letting your feelings out. The hold around you makes you melt, smiling before turning to where Sunwoo is. At your longing stare, his head shoots back up in surprise, tripping over his own words at how you look at him with beady, watery eyes in adoration. Shy Sunwoo is going to be a sight that you’ll get used to quickly, noting how adorable he is with how his eyes refuse to meet yours and his lips moving without any sound actually coming through.

“I love you.” 

You repeated quieter just for him so that he was the only one who could hear the words.

“I love you so much.”

You stood on your toes, planting a kiss on his chin.

“I love you so much but,” Sunwoo gulps with how you squinted your eyes, “if you leave my side next year, I won’t hesitate to throw a snowball to your face.”

“Oh God, please don’t do that.” Mortified and shaking his head, “I’m sorry, you win. I’ll do anything, just please have mercy on me.”

“Anything?”

Sunwoo gives a series of firm, convincing nods.

“Kiss me.”

The words took a while to register in his mind and he couldn’t help the breath hitching when he realised your request. Sunwoo almost stumbled backwards, your hands tug the fabric of his pockets, pulling him back to you and reality. It caused your foreheads to lightly bump and the impact made you wince at his stupidity. 

“I-I’m sorry! I-I’m—”

“Kim Sunwoo! There’s going to be a mark there! That hur—”

A pair of comforting hands hold your jawline, tilting your face to accommodate the height difference between the two once-best friends. When Sunwoo gets a better grip on himself, he quickly dives in when your lips part, swallowing your complaints and making his dreams come true. 

Double a decade—no, more than that. 

That’s how much he’s waited for this moment with you.

When his lips would slot against yours, hugging your top ones with his before pulling away to give the same amount of affection to your bottom ones. Your noses bump into each other slightly, making the moment seem real and fun, smiling and giggling when you both part for air. Shy and kind of embarrassed with how messy and uncoordinated it is but you both know you wouldn’t want to share each other’s firsts with anyone else. 

At this moment, it’s you and him in this world.

That’s how you ended the year. Clenched fist still inside his pockets, though that didn’t stop you from folding the fabric back so that you could have your arms wrapped around his middle to pull him closer. The sky soon blooms shortly after, and the happy firing noises illuminate the night sky, beating the dull light and colour of the moon that everyone sees every day. Because of the dynamic colours, Sunwoo is able to see the shades of the celebration mirrored on your skin, finding you more beautiful than ever before. 

Though beautiful, the fireworks did make Sunwoo roll his eyes when he seemingly needed to repeat variations of “Be my girlfriend!” even though you were less than ten centimetres away from his face. He knows after your third “What? I can’t hear you” that you were playing with him, giving you pecks of his lips across your face playfully, enjoying how your laughs neutralised the flowers in the sky. 

You ended the year with the start of a kiss with your best friend.

And start the new year with a new title for your ex-best friend.

With Kim Sunwoo, of course.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs ​, hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings:  EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

   You thought, hell fucking yes.

 What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

 2 for 1 cocktails.

 Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

 God it was going to be a long night.

 After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

 “Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

 She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

 Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

 Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

 Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

 “Ow! Maris!”

 Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

 “Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

 “Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

 You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

 “He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

 Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

 Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

 “Sorry, sorry”

 You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

 It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

 Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

 “You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

 Almost in unison you all say, “No”

 “Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

 “Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

 “Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

 “Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

 “Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

 Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

 “Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

 Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

 You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

 “What the fuck Baela!”

 “Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

 Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

 “Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

 You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

 “Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

 Stalking time.

 You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

 Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

 “Oh my god”

 “Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

 Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

 She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

 “Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

 “Oh shit”

 Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

 “I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

 The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

 You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

 Fuckfuckfuck.

 “Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you”  Maris chimes.

 You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

 Would he?

 He was pretty handsy last time.

 But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

 No you can’t.

 You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

 “Hello! Earth to y/n!”

 Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

 “Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

 Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

 “I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

 “I heard you the first three times you said it”

 “Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

 With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

 She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

 “Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

 “This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

 “Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

 It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

 “Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

 “He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

 “Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

 “We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

 He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

 “Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

 Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

 “Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

 “Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

 A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

 You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

 Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

 A family trait, you see.

 With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

 Oh God, his thighs.

 Stopstopstop.

 You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

 “Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

 Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

 “I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

 Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

 You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

 “Don’t live in the gym like you do”

 He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

 Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

 You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

 “Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

 Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

 “Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

 In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

 Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

 “Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

 When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

 Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

 He seems to delight in the reaction.

 “Have fun on instagram earlier?”

 Oh fuck my life.

 You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

 Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

 “See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

 Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

 Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

 With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

 Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

 But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

 Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

 She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

 Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

 “Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

 Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

 “What”

“Nothing”

 You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

 “Oh yes it does~”

 She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

 Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

   Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

 “I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

 “Nothing is going to happen”

 “Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

 With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

 You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

 The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

 Twat.

 With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

 He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

 “Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

 You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark  at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

 Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

 There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

 He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

 “How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

 He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

 Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

 What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

 “Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

 Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

 His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

 He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

 Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

 “Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

 He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

 “That’s what Rhaena said”

 “Ah” he responds, “she would”

 “Why’s that?”

 He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

 You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

 “Does it not freak you out?”

 You shake your head softly, “No”

 He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

 “Right, stretches”

 Oh boy.

 It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

 Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

 “That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

 Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

 Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

 “Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

 “Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

 “Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

 He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

 But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

 As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

 When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

 “Relax”

 Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

 The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

 He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

 “Push here”

 You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

 “Good girl”

 He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

 It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

 There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

 Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

 “Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

 All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

 “Fucking perfect…”

 Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

 You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

 Buzz buzz.

 Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

 But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

 Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

 “Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

 Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

 Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy​ @lovelykhaleesiii​@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid​ @namelesslosers​  @chainsawsangel​ @warmfieldofgrass​ @mynameisbaby9​ @afro-hispwriter​ @tempo-rary-fix​ @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans​ @svtansdaddyx​ @tssf-imagines​ @darkenchantress​ @vrtualfairy​ @fan-goddess​ @skikikikiikhhjuuh​ @helaenaluvr​ @sarahkimtae​ @blackxisxmyxcolour​ @castellomargot​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @julczimozart​ @amazingdisneyfansblog​ @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss​

[saintarc]

LOVE AT FIRST BITE. LOST CHAPTER #II.

♱⃬ ͏ ⠆ TEETH GRAZING AGAINST HER PURE SKIN. the burning ecstatic bite under the moonlight that allowed ecstasy into the prince's mind.

🦇 ͏⠆ a bit of really minor nsfw, minor religious themes, mentions of skin cutting, blood sucking, usages of "dear/dearest". 2200+ words.

taglist ⌇ @steleir @tojiluv @ellzbellz @theblueslytherin @krokietino @purplepursepaint @katiemrty @saturvue @tsxkkis @httpshujii @syomi @tnt-kokoo @suniika @camilo-uwu @mimifoodlover @whynotelli @rollssas

WHERE THE FIRST ROOSTER CROWS, the unrested soul of the hardworking and determined vampire hunter sets her feather pen on the table to rest her sore arms.

what could cause it to be of such soreness? well, that is simple. born a silvernalle, they are meant to write down every single detail from the finest hair to the soles of the feet of any vampire that they came across. all written in the book of the silvernalle’s vampire records.

so far, not a single information of the current prince of the vampires, zuko, is recorded into the pages of the old book. that's when you know that there are two possibilities.

one, he is not that old of a vampire. two, nobody in your lineage has managed to get any information on the vampire prince at all. perhaps he is just so skillful that his existence had finally resurfaced after generations.

regardless of the lack of information on the vampire, you know what you are doing. respected young hunter of the vampires, y/n silvernalle. head of the silvernalles ever since you were fifteen of age.

quite the accomplishment in your opinion… to be the youngest head and one of the few females who managed to become heir.

what did society expect if you're the last few standing silvernalles in existence? possibly even the last with pure hunter blood? there is no way you are going to simply sit by and burn away all the activities committed by your vengeful ancestors. with you alone, you cannot erase the existence of the vampires by yourself anyways.

“lady silvernalle, here are the reports of nearby villagers regarding the sightings of recent and low-class vampires,” seira hales, young assistant and precious friend of yours, placed a pile of papers above your desk. “i’ve checked some of them, and none of them mentioned a single description of the vampire prince you engaged with.”

“i’d like to think it's because the prince hasn't made his existence known to the world until that night,” you set your quill aside and momentarily stared at the papers before averting your gaze onto seira.

“my stomach cries in anger. shall we get lunch, seira?”

COFFEE-DRIPPING SCENTS, honey pastries, and a little bit of a torn and worn-out cushion seats. it is not far from when the clock strikes at the fourteenth hour of the day, and two souls have not gotten their fair share of lunch yet.

now they are seated comfortably in the soft and lukewarm heaven of an old inn where it is almost like a bakery, but not really. the inn sold the likes of alcohol and beef. choices vary. there are many meals to choose from.

you chose a simple and nice stew to ease your mind and body which has been working nonstop ever since the encounter with the royal vampire. whereas the daughter of greatly adored hales ordered a healthy bowl of salad and bread at the side of it. both of you were given a cup of wine to complete your meal.

knowing your friend, assistant, and apprentice, you always wait for her to say her graces before consuming her meals. though you might not be as orthodox and religious as she is, you'd clasp your arms together with her and remain silent as she thanks the lord for the food.

seira’s faith is just as important as any garlic and holy silver swords. she has knowledge on exorcism and whatnot that a priest obtains throughout his years of priesthood. it is a skill of the hales family and also their duty to assist the silvernalles in pursuit of vampires. for both families have mutual feelings towards those bat-like monsters.

so the consumption of both your meals were carried out as usual, along with the discussions on how to terminate the other nightly creatures that might cause some distress to humanity in the silent night. all that is left for you and seira to do is to pay for your meals before heading back to the silvernalle headquarters for more studies.

the moment you set your payment on the counter, the corner of your eyes caught an unforgettable image that you thought you'd never see in the light of day. the image that was burned, etched, and marked at the back of your mind, slowly crawling up to make its familiarity into your conscious mind.

without uttering another word, your feet carried you away from the counter to chase after that familiar figure. to put simply, you ran after it, leaving your assistant behind to shout out your name and question where you are headed. but that doesn't matter.

what truly matters now, is that the vampire from that night isn't actually walking under daylight where he should be cinched to ashes the moment the sun hits his skin.

you cursed under your tongue and went out of the tavern where the figure had just left. and that was it. nothing else, nothing more. not a single trace of the monster from that night is seen ever again. at least, not to you, because your arms just received a message which resulted into goosebumps.

an eerie message that spoke to you through the slight appearance of the familiar vision. a message that tells you that this isn't going to be the last time you will ever see him in all his glory.

THE HOWLS OF THE WOLVES were loud tonight, as the perfectly full moon shone its wondrous atmosphere all over one part of the world, where it is brightest.

despite all the nightly howls and the dangers of a lonely girl walking through the night, you continued to venture through the trail in the middle of a field. the moon seemed to be the only company you have for the night, for it is seen as the largest in the field.

you are so so wrong about that assumption however. you knew the exact moment when there was an icy feeling that just electrocuted down your spine that you are indeed not alone with the night sun at all. this chilly feeling that gathered and remained all over you, giving you a gift of goosebumps that covered all over your arms.

this feeling is familiar. you know of it. it is the feeling of something that is about to go wrong. terrible even— if it starts to get all cold and you feel the urge to crawl up into a ball just to keep yourself warm while avoiding the rotten feeling.

mere goosebumps alone with a little bit of fearing the night wouldn't stop you from getting to your destination though. you are determined to get there even if a certain vampire is watching you with a pair of dark scarlet eyes and an insatiable lust for the red liquid in your body.

“make your presence known, won't you?” you said, voice echoing through the night as the chilly wind pulled and danced along with the flow of your voice. your breath came out as a collection of cold mist.

you could almost feel a super tiny smile that cracked a little as you first saw it that day in the ball of the vampire princess. the fake and everlasting smile that could enchant women so easily, even though it was so tiny— barely visible to the eyes.

“oh! i was found out,” the vampire exclaimed, giving you a little shrug as his face quickly twisted into a frown and a glare at once. “bold of you to walk alone during dusk, silvernalle girl.”

“bold of you to assume i’m afraid of the dark as a silvernalle, prince.”

in your boots, you kept weapons in there. weapons of all sorts are always strapped around your body, possibly even in your body, if you were extreme enough to cut open your skin just to store anti-monster weapons. with the same silver dagger you used against the fellow vampire standing before you, you grabbed it and swung it at zuko's direction.

his eyes widened at the sudden attack. not wanting to feel the burn of the same blade again, the prince does his best to dodge it in hopes of eventually kicking it away from your grasp.

you got into a little brawling battle with him. and honestly… it was no easy task to land a hit or even a single graze on his skin because of how agile and perfect he is at hand-to-hand combat and especially, dodging.

“it seems his highness is good at combating, and dodging,” you grabbed the dagger that fell off and ran to the vampire who let out a sigh.

“i am a vampire after all. we're just naturally good at it,” zuko dodged, using his hands to attempt a few chops and a few jabs on your vital points using his fingers and the sides of his hands. however, you too, are a professional at the art of dodging hits.

this went on for about a few more moments, before zuko finally had enough of this little hit and dodge game. the vampire prince had finally cornered you until your back hit a huge tree trunk that the moon seemed to favour tonight.

“enough playing around,” zuko kicked the blade that was on the ground away. he kicked it so far that you couldn't even see where it disappeared to. just as you were about to grab another weapon from somewhere on your body, zuko already has your hands above your head, locked within his tight grip to prevent your itchy fingers from pulling out another silver weapon.

“what was your name again? y/n? y/n silvernalle? yeah probably, i heard your friend called you that,” said zuko. “did you know, in the history of silvernalles and vampires, there was once a hunter named y/n too. she's killed by my ancestor, count roku though. isn't it a shame? you're pretty much a little copy of her, from the pictures that roku drew of her.”

you gritted your teeth and glared at zuko. “and? what has that got to do with me? just because i have the same name as someone who died by your darn ancestor, doesn't mean it has anything to do with me.”

zuko’s scarlet eyes looked down at your leg which he knew were attempting to kick him off of you. the man went closer to you, way more closer than he should've… and he placed his knee between your thighs, catching you by surprise.

before you could scream or even let out a single whine, his hands already slapped against your mouth to cover any alluring noise that might escape from your lips. your legs have failed to move.

“shut up,” zuko tells you, his voice getting more aggressive the more you struggle against him.

“i hope you know you're enticing and beautiful enough that the officials of dark romania all have their eyes on you now. i will mark you as my territory, silvernalle, so you can hunt me without having to struggle with thousand year old great grandpas.”

your eyebrows scrunched in confusion at his odd choice of words. he wants you to hunt him in peace without having to worry about powerful vampires that he calls ‘great grandpas’. so he is going to mark you.

exactly how? you do not know. regardless of his suggestion, you do not want to be marked by a vampire nor carry the scent of one into your daily life. for your honour as vampire hunter.

all you could do was shake your head slightly against his hard grip on half of your face. you cannot do anything about it. the strength of a royal vampire is more than that of a normal powerful thousand year-old one. you yourself has basic knowledge about such a fact.

“oh, dear, i promise you, it won't hurt.”

you squeezed shut your eyes and held in your chokes, even after zuko’s harsh grip against your face loosened and left your mouth, you kept your lips sealed. there's something about his words that makes you lose the ability to fight back. it murdered the spirit of the brave lion in you with just a few words.

the prince’s fingers were on the lower part of your face again. but this time, they gently swipe across your lower lips. all gentle gestures right before he leaned into your neck and his two canine teeth grazed against your skin. such an odd feeling you felt. the cold hands of a vampire caressing your lips and his mouth moving to mark you as his.

all of these while you suddenly lose hope at this moment and feel your body succumbing to the vampire prince. it was such a sad and disappointing sight honestly. a silvernalle is shamefully standing still, allowing a vampire to fill your entire body with his rich and royal scent as he takes your blood as a form of his satisfactory meal.

a tear of your ancestors escaped from the corner of your eyes, all while feeling the itching pain of the fangs buried deep in your skin and zuko’s fingers now cupping your face. your thighs closed in on zuko’s knee, squeezing it from the hellish burn on your neck.

the moment you blinked, zuko has already ceased his marking and is now staring right into your pitiful eyes.

“i need more of you,” he whispered, “but i can't,” his cold yet gentle hands left your cheeks. you already miss the feeling. you unconsciously grabbed his hands, just moments before snapping out of his enticing. you gripped it tightly, fingernails buried deep into his skin just like how his fangs were in your skin.

“i will fucking kill you, zuko,” your eyes snapped out from his spell and splashed daggers right into the core of his undead soul. “you will regret ever tempting me, bastard.”

the same tiny smile surfaced on zuko’s lips. “i'm waiting, my dearest sweet little hunter.”

© SAINTARC 2024, LOVE AT FIRST BITE. DO NOT REPOST OR ALTER.

[bluegumballmf]

lately ive realized i DESPISE the way the witch is treated in the stp fandom. Like,she's playful and guarded, not some uwu cat girl. She was created from a betrayal of trust and she shifts her personality both as a trauma response AND because the player’s perception of her shifts

Like shit we can see changing personalities as a trauma response IN THE WITCH

She is TRYING to confuse the player so that he doesn't hurt her anymore cus she trusted him and then got stabbed in the back like shes not just a uwu catgirl im so mad she just gets reduced to that. Also like- adaptability is a necessary feature for humans to have to survive.

And the princess's whole thing is adaptability, so ofc she shifts when someone who she trusted stabs her in the back like

Aughhh i hate it when characters are reduced to stereotypes

But like i could go on for hours about how the princess is boiled down to certain traits about her in the stp fandom because it irks me so bad

Aughhh let her be a deep character for one second.

AND ALSO FOR YOUR ACTIONS HAVING CONSEQUENCES BEING THE ENTIRE PURPOSE IF THE GAME IT ISNT ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE FANDOM NEARLY AS MUCH AS ITS NEEDED TO BE.

Im biased for the thorn route because it shows that gaining back trust is a mutual process that invloves both of you adressing that you hurt the other

The princess herself reminds me of a trauma response actually; Using adaptability to stay alive, always becoming what you expect her to be. Its how she survives, and its a really good parallel to abuse victims or victims of any kind

Goddd im so normal about this game and its metaphors

NO BC GOING BACK TO THE THORN ROUTE-FORGIVENESS WHEN ITS ACTUALLY EARNED AND RECIPROCATED IS SO GOOD

GRRER

you have no idea how long this rant has been stewing in my autistic little head

Ijust

I think the stranger route is the best example of someone right after receiving trauma

Scrambling to figure out what happened-why did they fracture? Why did everything change? who are they now? (edited)

They're scrambling for answers and overwhelmed with emotions and so so confused and so scared, because this trauma-as little or as large as it may seem, will affect them

It reminds me of some people ive known who've reacted similarly to trauma and thats a thing i love about stp

It doesnt shy away from being realistic and raw and ugly, Because thats what humanity is. And even gods can be human, even gods can be ugly.

[fic-heaven]

Pretty lies. (John Price x reader)

Nsfw / heavy angst/ cheating/ questioning one's sexuality/ friends to lovers/ alcohol/ mentions of abuse.

-Imagine having so much chemistry with one person... But he has a girlfriend and you are a lesbian woman. Life had given you plenty of chances to take one more step on your friendship with John Price and you two seemed to enjoy toying between the line of friendship and what seemed to be unreachable. Will you succumb yourselves to the desire you clearly harbour for each other breaking the limitations of your sexuality and his relationship with none other than one of your friends? Let's find out uwu

🐥 Finally: Price 🎉

.

The day your friend's friend Martha told you to unwind after breaking up with your girl, you reluctantly decided to follow her advice.

Martha Swanson was this loud, nosey girl that one of your friends presented as a new addition to your large group and hit it off with all the boys suspiciously fast. Easing up to her was hard, as much as your friends used to brag about you being the chillest, most patient and easy going out the whole pack of you, Martha tested your reputation and this breakup with your girlfriend was making you more irritable with any witty line she shot your way, so instead of hanging out with your group you decided to avoid them all for a while needing some time for yourself. But as soon as Martha caught wind of this, she wouldn't leave you alone sending you multiple dating apps and offering you to hook up with her girl friends as if being single was worse than a death sentence and her kind soul wanted to spare you from it. Ridiculous.

Fast-forward to this morning, Martha had sent you this long-ass text you actually appreciated. And it was this particular motivational text that made you leave your bed, take a quick shower, dress like a porn star and leave your cave of an apartment after kissing your ex's cat goodbye. (who she left for you to care since she didn't want him anymore.) the old orange cat growled in discomfort and it only urged you to kiss his fluffy forehead further leaving a red lipstick stain.

The loud music inside every local you passed by made you flex your fingers around the strap of your handbag in anticipation. A little while later, your eyes landed on a small pub in between two larger ones with neon lights adorning it's name "Puss n' boots." Your heels carried you inside mindlessly.

"Yeah, there's gotta be lesbians in 'ere." You instantly thought. So why not listen to bitchy Martha for once and see if we can fish some pussy? You were tired of crying yourself to sleep because of your cold-hearted ex... It's time to move on.

At least that was the main idea, there were lots of beauties in this pub and you already caught some eyes, sadly they were all men's or some jealous hag's. By your lack of taste and terrible luck with men you weren't going to indulge none of them and the old hags weren't your thing either. You waited for half an hour to see if you had any luck catching any girl's attention, sadly the more glasses you drank the clearer it was that tonight wasn't going to be your night and you didn't have the energy to leave as the pretty ladies that matched your taste were either entertaining some men or invested in whatever conversation they were having with their groups. Maybe you should have stayed home or searched for actual gay bars... You're sure you look fucking pathetic drinking sad and lonely, and more painted than a bloody door.

Fuck, you wouldn't have been doing this if Lisa (you ex) stayed faithful instead of fucking that new secretary of hers and being dumb enough to show off her affair to your mutual friends.

Were you really that easy to replace? Great. Now you are feeling unattractive in your most attractive outfit just thinking about all this mess.

With a huff you crossed your legs on the stool, practically giving up with a sigh, one hand massaged your temple and the other lift to order one more glass of whiskey. To your dismay, it was a raspy, tabaco-burned voice who ordered it for you.

"Leave the bottle. Missy's got a rough night."

"What's got you laughing, bitch?" He spat taking a step back and sparing you from having to smell him further.

You blinked your tears away before turning around and seeing this good-for-nothing bald guy with a few missing teeth and a sinister aura. You couldn't help but chuckle and your chuckle soon turned into a loud crackle until you were covering your mouth and letting out a few tears feeling nothing but amusement and frustration that you went from having this beautiful goddess of a girlfriend to attracting a bald, smelly man clearly wanting to fuck you and probably rob you afterwards, you no longer gave a fuck that you looked absolutely nuts laughing on his face for no apparent reason. But fuck. How fast can your life turn around and leave you drunk on your sexiest outfit, single because you got cheated on, and the only person who wanted to fuck you was this stupid man with nothing but bad intentions and a terrible case of halitosis?

"For a man so full of yourself who claims to see through me so easily... You are quite jumpy."

The bartender came back with the bottle carrying an uneasy look, you swiftly took the bill the drunken trashcan of a man had readied, paid for the bottle and shot a wink to the nervous barman. "Keep the change, luv."

"Aye, Price! Kick the bastard out, he gave us enough headaches for a lifetime..." Ordered the bartender, lanky legs carried him elsewhere to open the back door that led to an alley behind the pub.

"You bitch-" Just as you moved from the stool the bald guy launched your way and the barman rushed to aid you, but another man jumped in ready to save you from the hairy arms of the goblin. This guy seemed cleaner and more sober, with much more hair on his head and a stunning beard with the most beautiful cristal blue eyes you have ever seen. They did remind you of your ex girlfriend's and suddenly the scare of the guy jumping to you lessened as the painful memory of your break-up clouded your turbulent mind once again.

Mr. Stunning Beard tackled the cursing baldie with his strong arms, you didn't waste a second delivering him a harsh punch to the mouth that surely broke some of the few teeth he had left. Your reflexes were still intact as you snatched the whiskey bottle from the counter before the now bleeding asshole could break it with the useless kicks he was giving to every piece of furniture he reached.

"No need to ask, Hugh." Replied the pretty guy whose name was Price. "I'll be right back." He grunted your way trying to keep still the scum he had trapped, you shrugged indifferent.

The people from the pub didn't seem scandalized at all, they actually seemed relieved. Apparently from what you heard from the cute girls near the table you had picked, this guy was a homeless man who came to this pub every time he had enough cash to do exactly what you already knew he'd do to you. Pick a sad girl, fuck and rob her and return a few weeks later. This was one of the few pubs that still allowed him the entry, and I say was because as soon as you served yourself another glass from the bottle the guy practically gifted you, the barman walked to your booth, told you to pick whatever you wanted on the house and assured you that the bald asshole was banned for life. You politely smiled and thanked him with a sickenly sweet smile assuring him you were used to this and thanked him for everything.

Truth is, you weren't used to this at all. You were never a pub girl, your girl didn't like pubs so you never had the chance to indulge in... Drinks, sweat, loud crappy music and drunken guys trying to hit on you when you were just trying to hit on their girlfriends. So you were slightly shaken, but it was nothing alcohol couldn't fix.

Baffled, you laughed to yourself seeing how your manicured hand remained intact even after the harsh punch you delivered earlier, though your laughter died as soon as Price came back cleaning the invisible dust from his casual wear. His blue eyes scanned the whole place until they landed on your spot near one of the front windows. You gave him a lazy drunken smile and a small wave he returned with a smirk walking closer, he sat on the opposite booth and frankly you thanked him for it. You could use the stranger's company so long as it wasn't for something sexual. You were no longer in the mood.

"Nice save, Price guy." You purred when he sat down with a huff.

"Nice punch, eh..." He replied squinting.

"(Y/n). I don't know what you were aiming to do here but I'm not interested in-"

"No worries." He quickly said picking up on what you meant "Actually, I came here because I was wondering if you were kind enough to split the bottle." Price said pointing at the whiskey bottle with a meaty finger, that earned him your first sincere smile.

"Fuck It, why not? It'd be fair after you kicked sir Alitosis' ass in my name." You chirped calling the bartender to bring another glass.

In your opinion, there were three types of drunks: angry drunks, sad drunks and fun drunks. You didn't want to be a sad drunk and make a fool of yourself in front of your new buddy, so you decided to let go of your troubles and simply try to enjoy the rest of the night with new friendly company. Besides, this man seems... Oddly polite.

"I did everyone a favour. Bastard scared away enough girls t'night." Price grunted waving a hand lazily as if speaking about the weather.

"Did he mess up your hunt, big guy? Were you craving to take anyone home tonight?" You asked as a final clarification because honestly, when did a guy, who clearly didn't know you were into girls, sit with you when you were at your most miserable and sexiest without holding any weird intentions?

"Girl trouble?"

Price gave you this tight smile and a quick shake taking you by surprise "Nah I honestly just wanted a drink." He said it so tiredly, like he had a long week, maybe he had problems at home or simply hated his job and wanted to drown the discomfort with alcohol or perhaps he had the same issue as you. Romance trouble. He is handsome to be single.

With all the courage alcohol gave you, your mouth spoke before you could even process it.

"Mm. One of many troubles, I'm afraid."

It's as if you drunken minds had synchronized. Promptly, the desire to hit it off with any women here or spend a second alone reminiscing on a time when things felt "right" died in both your minds, suddenly finding peace and contentment on each other's presence deciding that maybe, this wasn't going to be another shitty night after all, as some friendship could be born from this unfortunate encounter with that scum.

As if nothing had happened, you two begun bantering about anything and everything until the pub closed, exchanged numbers and after four more outings together on that same pub, sleepless nights talking from the phone and random nightly adventures without alcohol in your systems in the quiet streets of London, you two became very good friends, best friends, you dare say.

So it didn't come as a surprise when in one particular outing, Price no longer allowed you to call him by his last name but you were so used to doing so you kept calling him that way and it became fun tease.

"It's John, sweetheart. How many times do I have t' remind ya?"

"I'm sorry it's just weird for me to call ya John when I've known you as Price for a whole month!" You wined, opening the Malboro cigarettes you just bought.

"I'll forgive you, but just this once." John chuckled lighting up your cigar and covering the amber with his palm so the chilly air of the night wouldn't extinguish the flame. You two were leaning very close but with all the trust you both shared in you friendship didn't make it feel awkward or heated. At the eyes of any passer-by, you two were very close friends who tiptoed between the line of friendship and romance, an "obvious" sexual tension radiated from you as Price's heavy arm surrounded your waist pressing your side against his sharing heat and casually glancing at each other's mouths when one of you breathed out the smoke of your cigs during playful, quiet conversations. But the truth was that you two were simply a high ranked officer sharing smoke with his lesbian buddy before you entered your favorite pub for the night. Nothing deeper, nothing intimate. Just two buddies spending quality time with each other.

An yet, he did feel the situation deeper than you. It was the quiet moments you two spent together what made Price sleep better at night. He never straight up told you how much he appreciated having a girl friend other than Laswell and whatever the hell his three-month girlfriend pretended to be at times. Your company always felt refreshing, even if you two had known each other for one single month it felt like you had brought him whatever that was missing on his life, company, a stable friendship without sex in between, self confidence and a break from his mind troubles. With you, John felt wanted, but not in the same way many women had made him feel in the past (including his girlfriend), more like you reciprocated the comfort of his company, deeply content with it even though you haven't seen him naked. As many encounters and other past friendships with women he had in the past, he dreaded the time you'd try to jump on him and he would have to explain to you that he has a girlfriend, but you didn't, and somehow it made John feel... Disappointed?

Os course, don't mistake such disappointment for

The captain found a friend in you he deeply cherished, someone he could have at his doorstep in one single phonecall If he needed a drink or a distraction, someone he could count on every time he wanted to feel a different type of thrill that didn't imply sex or war. More like robbing a bunch of gnomes from a random front yard at two in the fucking morning and running for your lives after getting caught doing it, or like that one time when you two joined a random Batchkorette party in the Puss n' Boots and competed on how many thongs you managed to steal before the night ended, he ended up losing the bet and had to invite you for takeout afterwards. Frankly he'd have done it either way thankful of how hard you made him laugh that night.

This time though, it was Price who wanted to open up a bit as you both enjoyed ruining your lungs together before getting wasted and leaving to his friend's house, "Kyle Garrick". John has been planning the perfect outing for a while, and when Gaz mentioned the meteor shower this morning he knew this had to be his chance to take the next step, he only knew you for a month and you two have behaved yourselves well, but there was something at the back of his mind that irked him to nudge your waist with his and give you this mischievous look that made you arch a brow and return it thinking he had something devilish on his mind that you were instantly interested in joining.

Price felt so young and energetic with you, the strict, bloodthirsty captain he thought he was fell dormant in your presence. It was something that thrilled but frightened him as his very own girlfriend, his team and many exes before her, never managed to make him feel such thing. He really felt like he had to thank you, since the night he met you, Price noted an improvement in how his relationship with Martha Swanson affected him. Every little thing she wanted to bicker about he endured better, every time she spent trying to dry his wallet or flirt with his men he simply stopped caring as he felt all the more eager to hang out with you and forget about his tedious job and awful girlfriend, at the same time, Martha noted his nonchalance and to his surprise, she begun slightly behaving better.

But going back to you two, how could he express his gratitude? Would words work? You never really shared very deep conversations other than one time when you were so drunk out your mind you told Price about your last break-up (without specifying the gender of your partner.) he comforted you however he could afterwards, but because he was also so drunk after the drinking competition you two had, the captain could do nothing but pat your back and gargle out soft-spoken comforts while throwing up in a dumpster near a bus stop when you two were retiring for the night. What a sight you two made. One puking his soul out while comforting the other with tears ruining your mascara.

"Wanna do somethin' different t'night?" He asked with a boyish eagerness written all over his face at the way you contorted your face.

"Come on, man... You have been bugging me for WEEKS with this plan! Don't ya want me to meet this friend of yours so bad?"

Price steals your cigar quickly before you can protest, places it in between his lips with his own and takes a looooong deep inhale that devours half of the two cigars quickly to your horror. You swiftly take off one heel and threaten to beat him with it as he laughs jogging and dodging your attacks with both cigs still on his mouth running behind a pole teasing you to try and catch him.

"Come on! this will be much more fun! I'll tell Kyle a lie, that your cat died or somethin' and that you chickened at the last minute..."

"Don't you dare fake Raspberry's death for your silly spontaneous plans, Big Price!" Your tongue rolls the sweet nickname you gifted him weeks ago making his chest fill with warmth. Your big Price.

He laughs and spits out both cigs nodding his head to the side as to guide you along taking long strides that forced you to hurry in order not to loose him in the mist of the night.

"Fine, alright... But if you wanna skip the plan tell Kyle now or he'll have your ass later." You sigh nudging his arm to which he chuckled lowly in agreement quickly fishing out his phone to send Gaz a poor, brief excuse to move the plan for the next week.

Price took you further from the park behind your block, bought you some snacks in the nearest gas station before crossing the bridge that led you closer to the city frontiers until you two reached a pitch black part in the middle of a gigantic clearing with a more natural terrain and a bunch of dead trees and bushes, it was hard to see when the only source of light were your phones' flashlights.

"Where the hell are you taking me? Price, I swear if you are up to something-"

He rolls his shoulders trying not to complain about you still calling him by his last name "Come on, who do you think I am? After all the trouble we've been through... Do you really think I'd mess with our friendship, doll?"

Just when you were about to complain about your poor choice of shoe wear for this unexpected expedition to the unknown, a massive brick wall came to view and the moment Price got in one knee and offered you a lift you bursted out laughing nervously.

The soft, playful reassurance comforted you instantly, but you went puzzled at the light disappointment you felt when he mentioned not messing with you friendship. It was a very strange feeling, as Price's friendship has always felt the the most stable thing in your life even if you've only known each other for a month. So why would you be slightly upset that he was just as pleased with your friendship as you were? You couldn't want more out of him right? And if that was the case... What exactly would it mean to want more? What did "more" imply if you were gay?

"What!? Listen, listen, listen, listen-"

"Shoot it, doll."

"One thing, okay? One thing is steal gnomes and thongs and cover my sexist neighbor's car with a thousand pink post-it... But we are not breaking into anyone's property, big P!"

"Exactly. Because this doesn't belong to anyone, it's abandoned. Now quit crying and jump, I promise I'll cover my eyes." He said covering his eyes with his palm referring to the very short dress you were wearing.

Price gave you an amused smirk at your dramatism when he joined you up the wall to directly launch himself downwards to the other side and help you down. "I'd beat the crap out of whoever had the balls to do that, but I'm sure I wouldn't have to. You are one tough cookie, (Y/n). Haven't met many ladies who can punch the way you do and climb walls wearing high heels." Your soft laughter and thanks hit his heart harder than what was right from a man in a relationship.

You obeyed with a sigh and accepted his lift as you climbed through the brick wall to then sit on the top edge. "For your information, I'm wearing shorts underneath this rags. I may be dumb but I'm not stupid~ I mean, what If someone lifts my dress all of a sudden? Or if I climb a ten foot wall"

The captain instantly thought "You'd give everyone a good view for sure..."

Before you two stood an abandoned plaza that seemed to have been used for past music festivals and other kinds of events. It was mostly a big secluded space with a huge stone platform and some furniture and junk laying here and there, multiple graffiti adorned the dull walls, structures and even some areas in the stoney floor, the sea of bright colors made a lot of contrast with the weak reds from the bricks and the greys from the stone and cement.

Price took you to the rocky platform where he lit up a bunch of candles he took from his pocket, a bottle of whiskey sat beautifully illuminated by their soft lights. He wordlessly rushed to place a long towel from his backpack on the floor and you tried your hardest not to cringe and run from how romantic this was looking. You were internally screaming at this whole situation. Please let it NOT be a confession. God this is why you can't have any straight male friends...

Price knew you well and could read your discomfort about how all of this looked. "I heard the meteor shower was t'night, don't get your hopes up, doll." He teased and you almost fainted in relief.

Of course he wasn't going to confess anything! He had a girlfriend for fuck's sake! Not like you knew he was taken... But did you really have to act so relieved? Was he really that unattractive to you?'

"Oh god-..." You sighed fisting the hem of your dress dramatically flopping to the ground confident that the towel would shield your clean hair and favorite dress from the dusty floor. "Oh fuck! That's right, the meteor shower!" That made you sit quickly assessing how Price had decorated your spot. "And you brought Whiskey?" You smirked.

"For the occasion-" He muttered checking the time on his phone. "Only a few minutes left, it's a good thing you know how to walk fast with heels or else we'd have missed it." John really hoped you didn't hear the bitterness of his tone.

"Challenge accepted. Remind me in the next outing we plan." His rough hand took the bottle. He fisted the towel below intending to shake off the shiver that ran across his spine when his fingers brushed yours as you handed him the whiskey, you didn't have much luck as you actually did shiver at the contact, which was stupid because... Well you hugged and innocently touched each other before, but it felt different this time... Somehow. A strange wave of uncertainty washed over both of you on your little spot. You blamed your thin clothes for your shiver and he grunted back telling you you should have brought a jacket instead of offering you his, to which you playfully shoved his shoulder and he relented taking another blanket from his bag and shielding both of you from the chilly air.

You chuckled "Oh fuck you, big Price. You wouldn't stand a minute with these!" You said opening the bottle and giving it a good sip before offering it to John. (You two didn't care about sucking the same bottle)

"Ah shut up! There it is!" You gasped pointing at the sky after giving another long sip to the bottle.

And there it was~

The beautiful night sky erupted in a thousand lights, now more clearer as you two laid down away from the luminosity of the city. Price was quick to blow off the candles to make it better for you to see the beautiful natural display of lights. But just as he lifted his head from the candles he saw the way your face lit in wonder, your marvelled eyes reflecting the meteor shower In such an enchanting way John remained on his sitting position watching the spectacle from the windows of your eyes. He thanked the stars above that you didn't notice him staring, his cheeks were already burning red and he'd be too embarrassed to pretend he wasn't looking. After a few seconds and a long-ass sip Price mirrored your position looking up at the sky with his arms behind his head to accommodate better in the hard surface of the stone floor.

"You are amazing." You breathed and John fluttered his lashes in surprise but remained silent looking up at the million tiny lights across the sky with a small smile he could not contain.

"It's... Cool that you planned all this. You should have told me we were gonna climb a fucking wall, I would have brought my sketchers. Fucking fool." You bit amused.

"Didn't know we'd cancel on Gaz and that you'd show up dressing like Emma Stone in Poor things. It was supposed t'be a surprise, twat." John bit back with the same amusement.

"Thank you, Knob head."

"Y' welcome. Muppet."

You both chuckled like two teenagers at the random curses you exchanged before you continued. "No, but really... Thanks. I've been kinda broody for a long time after my break-up with..." You sighed. Why the hell were you feeling so reluctant on telling Price the name of your ex girlfriend? Why were you so hesitant on telling him you were into women? "With that... Cheater."

John rolled his head a bit to face your profile, eyes fixed on yours. You weren't going to confess right? He wasn't sure why, but he felt unprepared to tell you he had a girlfriend. Specially now with how peaceful, romantic and unforgettable this night was getting.

"You are the best friend I've never had. And every day I feel grateful that I had left my apartment that night and chose that shitty rathole of Puss n' Boots to burn my burdens. Because you were there, big P." Your voice wavered a bit and you hated how utterly fragile you sounded. "You were there and you have remained here, by my side."

Price's ocean eyes were slightly glossy at the sight of you opening up before him. It warmed his heart that you were comfortable enough to speak this way around him not hiding your vulnerability.

"I trust you, John." The words scaped your lips and suddenly you went mute, your eyes roled to his side to meet his intense stare, Price felt mute as well as your throats constricted and your eyes welded tears that ran free soon when you both nervously laughed together.

"You called me John..." He hummed pleased before continuing. "That means the world to me. You know I trust you too, right doll? There's nothing bad, I mean nothing, that I'd ever wish upon you, love. I'm very happy I got to meet you as well..."

Your soft, sincere smile lit his world as you replied curling to his side. "That's why I trust you. And I know you will never break that trust, John."

Out of nowhere you felt a strange wave of anxiety overwhelming you, this was too deep, you couldn't... This wasn't right. You didn't know what triggered such anxiety. The delicious smell of Price's expensive cologne, his body heat, his warm eyes looking at you with so much affection or... The fact that he was a man. Shit.

John felt the need to open up as well, encouraged by the emotional moment. It was his main plan anyways "(Y/n), I..."

"Johnathan-...I'm a lesbian." You abruptly interrupted.

His face went blank, like a husk of the friend you knew, crescent eyes widening slightly. John's words died on his mouth when you revealed your sexuality with a fearful face and after the longest most agonizing pause, he muttered in denial under his breath.

"No, you are not."

______

It's been a week and a half, and his words played in your mind like a broken record. Just what the hell did he mean by that?

You went from mourning you cheating partner to mourning a friendship that lasted one single sad month. That, if your friendship was over which you were seriously considering ending if it wasn't. You never spoke about it with Price. Never had the courage to bring up the topic after that awkward night.

The memory became a constant in your mind, when you showered, when you worked, when you tried to sleep... Price had consumed your thoughts in an unhealthy way.

You could remember it like it was yesterday. How after he said that, you two sat up facing opposite directions with eyes lost. The spectacle above long forgotten. How the only thing you acknowledged from one another was the alcohol being nudged your way. One took a long chug from the bottle and passed it to the other until you finally finished it. Once done, you stood up on wobbly feet stubbornly refusing John's hand. He took the bottle and threw it across the brick wall, the distant crash of the fall (probably against a rock) marked the rupture of your bond.

You both left the place wordlessly when you undid the improvised comfy spot. Price accompanied you to your bus stop even when you told him he didn't have to, he just pursed his lower lip and shrugged hiding his hands on his pockets instead of touching you in any way like he used to.

You felt bitter and confused, sad and frustrated and so did he.

There were many feelings tormenting you during your departure that only seemed to grow louder as Price saw you getting on the bus, checking on your figure when you sat next to a stranger further from the window before he left home lighting a cigar.

You cried in bed that night, and you hated it because it hurted more than when you cried about your ex Lisa. Price on the other hand, invited Martha over to his apartment at three in the morning, fucked her until the memory of your last encounter was slightly fogged by the pleasure of his girlfriend's walls squeezing him just right and collapsed in bed ignoring the hickies she had on her left shoulder, hickies he had never given her.

Martha snored soundly tucked by his side, your beautiful face shone from his phone when Price, for the very first time since he had known you, decided to stalk your Instagram account. Yes, you were into girls, that much was clear as the old captain scrolled through your publications and saw plenty of pictures of you with your friends and who he assumed was your ex girlfriend Lisa. There was one particular selfie that made his numb body feel a pang of ache on his chest, it was of you a few months back hugging your girlfriend's waist with this beautiful smile that momentarily dulled his heartbreak until he saw the short caption underneath the selfie: "Today we make two years together! My best friend, my muse, my goddess, my beautiful girlfriend. No one will ever make me feel as whole as you had made me feel all this time. Forever yours, (Y/n) <3"

Just before turning his phone off, he swiped down to read your bio. Price's brows rose up at the sight of his girlfriend's Instagram on your list of followers.

"Shit..."

______

"What's got you low, bee?" Your friend asked entering the shop where you worked at.

It was almost nine and your boss had given you the thumbs up to leave half an hour earlier because you were feeling like total shit and the night went slow anyway, so your friend Alan took it upon himself to try and drag you out of the shop for a night out with your mutual friends and you didn't have the heart to tell them no because of all the time you spent apart.

"Look at him! You can be sooo puntual when it comes to hangouts, Alan-boo." You replied ignoring the question with a purr turning off the lights and locking the door with Alan following you around like a lost duckling.

"It's been so fucking long, (Y/n)! We miss you! When Martha told us that you went clubbing alone all this time to forget about Lis-"

"Clubbing?" You interrupted the redhead with a calm voice as if to not pay much mind to their worry. "You guys can be so dramatic... I just went to a few bars to fish up some gals~!" You said in a sing-song tone.

"Any luck?" Alan pushed guiding you to his car. You gave him a dramatic huff of fake (or not so fake) frustration in replay and he laughed.

Thankfully, during the ride to the bar where they had chosen to meet up, you both didn't comment much more about your nocturnal whereabouts during your "self exile" from the group. The memory of Price was like a punch to the gut you were not in the mood to suffer. At least not for tonight.

The Goblin King was a bar some of your friends frequented every Wednesday night to play Dungeons and Dragons in their basement since the owner was one of your friends' dad, it was funny how no matter how old they've gotten, they still held such deep love for a game they played together as teenagers. Though, tonight was different because most of the people from your group didn't like it, so they agreed to leave table games behind and enjoy drinks with Martha's new boyfriend. You laughed when Alan deflated saying she had organized this meeting only to try and incorporate her new love interest to the group even when she was giving him and (apparently) other male friends mixed signals. You couldn't deny you were feeling curious about who in their right mind would seriously date this woman.

Imagine your surprise when you approached the crowdy wooden table, while your friends greeted and playfully picked on you for disappearing all this time, and you found a pair of tired blue eyes above a magnificent beard staring at you from the other side of the table. Price and you locked gazes, hiding the shock and trying to play it off stretching hands with a quick greet. He was dressed casually and yet it didn't dull his handsomeness one bit.

So she's Martha's so called "rainbow friend"...

So he's Martha's new boyfriend...

"Oh my god (Y/n). You wench!" Martha's sudden call from the bar startled you and you swore you'd vomit from the sudden scare she gave you mixed with the anxiety of having Price looking at you with those baby blue puppy eyes again. Does she know what happened? Did Price mention something about...

"If only I've known you'd be pulling that killer outfit I would have hidden my boyfriend, haha!" She joked sitting on Price's lap making the guys (and you) look away uncomfortable. Price noticed this and tensed up, blinking rapidly for a second parting his lips ready to change the subject. You were still wearing your work uniform which the only thing that could kill was a boner, and suddenly you were feeling insecure. Fucking awesome, thanks Martha.

"First of all don't call me wench, dear. We haven't reached that phase yet." You said amusedly but clearly stating boundaries, she laughed nodding without apologizing. "And second of all... You look like a snack! I'm jealous! Of Price, obviously. He hit the jackpot on ya." You said placing your backpack on the back of the chair before sitting swiftly next to Alan and other girl friend of yours, Malory.

Some of them rose their brows and Martha squinted curious. "How come you know his name? Do you know each other?"

Shit.

"I'm a regular at her shop." Price said casually squeezing Martha's thigh with a tight-lipped smile. You missed his dumb smiles.

"At the tea shop?" Martha questioned suddenly all suspicious while scratching Price's gigantic shoulder with her sinfully long pink nails.

"Babe, I'm British." The way Price said that made the table erupt in chuckles quickly lightening up the mood. Everyone laughed but you who just smiled amused by the comment and quickly excused yourself walking off to order something at the bar with Price's eyes following your every move, the table soon recovered their previous conversations.

What's up with her? This woman has been sexting all your male friends ever since she joined the group, and she was well aware of your sexuality so why act jealous? Oh, and what the hell was with Price dating none other than MARTHA SWANSON? You thought he could do better than that... Come on, John. And since when did he have a girlfriend anyway!? Why didn't he tell you before making that weird (and cute) date thing in that abandoned place? Shit, what if... What if that wasn't a date at all and you were looking too deep into things?

Somehow that thought hurted more than you'd like to admit. But you can't just assume someone's into you just because you are cute and single.

Fuck... Perhaps you were bisexual after all. Or at least just for Price, which isn't fair because he has a girlfriend and your past experiences with men were the reason why you left the closet. You can't simply start experimenting on him to see if you aren't fully lesbian when you still have some issues with men to work on and he has a girlfriend (as bitchy as she is).

The moment you ordered a "Whiskey on the rocks." a male voice echoed your order mockingly at the same time. You rose your brow looking over your shoulder where Price was slowly walking to your side with a small smile looking everywhere but you rocking his weight on the spot he stopped at. You knew when Price did this hip thrust thingy was either because he was happy or he was nervous. And judging by the way he didn't hold your gaze for long, he was most definitely nervous.

Big hairy arms crossed on his chest leaning on the counter, both of you were quiet as the barman quickly handed your glass and went to take your cash until Price rose his hand to halt him handing him his own bill discreetly, surely praying that Martha didn't see him inviting you for a drink after acting so suspicious and jealous in the table.

"Can't say I'm surprised you'd order the same shit as always even when they've got awesome pints in 'ere." He delivered in a soft hum. His voice, ever so manly and calming, made your hard shoulders shag slightly relaxing your stance, Price's gaze was lost in the bottles displayed behind the busy barman who was drying some glasses trying to ignore the satisfaction he felt noting the effect he had on you. Then, you decided to replay but in a way that held a double meaning, you could only hope he understood.

"I'm a gal or habits. But I must say there are things I wouldn't mind trying."

He was taken aback never imagining you'd say such thing. As you took your whiskey and walked one single step further from the bar trying to scape the scene to leave him some space to swallow what you said, Price's hand on your waist halted you instantly. You choke on your breath at the feeling of his giant hand delicately squeeze the plushness of you waist through your uniform like this. He was quiet, a tight smile pushing up his facial hair and cheeks crinkling his eyes further in an expression you had never seen him put and could only be described as want and worry all mixed together.

"(Y/n)." Price begun retreating his hand from your waist.

"I'm sorry." You said, not needing to hear anything else. "I misunderstood the situation when we were stargazing..."

John didn't have the heart to tell you that you didn't misunderstand anything keeping in mind that you two were still coming to terms with what happend that night and the impact it had on your friendship forever changing the view you had of one another. Truth is, (for both of you) that he was afraid of spending another week not talking to you even though the distance was needed. As adults, the stress or work, family and new relationships can make one's emotions unstable and unclear for one's self and therefore for others around them. His aunt often said that as an adult he must figure his shit out, but for Price it was different considering his whole life was his job and he has only begun living it recently. In desperation at the realization that he was no longer a boy but a middle-aged man whose life was running before his eyes faster than he wanted to admit, John suddenly found himself begining a romantic relationship with a woman who was only in for sex and appearances to later finding in her nothing but numbness and headaches, that until he found someone better for him who brought so many feelings and experiences in such little time you've known each other, that filled him with wonder for the future but couldn't persue anything further than friendship reaching his predicament since you were not attracted to him sexually and he was already committed to someone else. What a mess.

"Me too. I'm sorry for..." Price shook his head forcing his eyes to remain in your face with a long sigh. "For acting like that. I know i made things awkward pretty quickly, I didn't mean t' sound hateful or childish, and that plus the week of zero contact surely made me look like an asshole." You nod In agreement with an humorous smile that turned into a chuckle he mirrored. "Our friendship is very important to me, (Y/n). You just-..." He paused staring at the depths of your pupils intensively making you blush feeling slightly exposed. "You are important to me. You just give sense to everything..."

Your smile widened, your right hand swirled the whiskey glass making the ice cubes clank satisfactorily when you took one step closer to Price. "I don't make sense to shit, big Price. It's the alcohol in our systems what gives it to anything in our shitty lives."

Is it though? Is the whiskey in your hand the elixir you both need to feel such connection? Suddenly everything around you disappears, it's only John and you in that bar closer than before.

"Then maybe we should stop involving alcohol every time we see each other." He speaks lowly, his voice and cologne intoxicating your senses. You lips part, the dreamy look in your face making him exhale in delight. "If you're right and any booze we take makes sense to... This." He moves a finger between you and him "Then I wanna stop drinking and be lost in you, (Y/n)."

"J-John..." You would have loved to continue this conversation but having Martha whine Price's name from the table like a desperate cat in heat made you two step away awkwardly and turn to reality going back to the table.

Oh to spend half an hour between laughs and jokes with your friends. How you missed this, you missed them. But as mentioned, it lasted half an hour until all of you all grew slightly tense when you begun taking notice of some heated looks shared between Alan and Martha the more they drank, and the way every time it happend, Price sent you this knowing look that stirred something within you. It wasn't desire, it wasn't amusement, it was something ugly that started eating up your insides until you were so irritated that once Martha and Alan left to the bathroom to do what you all knew they'd do, you took your chance to leave for a quick smoke along some of your friends who left the table sending Price looks filled with pitty. Price didn't mind them and stood up taking his coat to follow your smaller group, hopefully to continue the conversation you two were having.

You were a mess once you left the bar and walked to the nearest alley claiming you needed to be alone for some time, your friends brushed it off as they thought that any mention or hint of an affair would trigger the memory of Lisa.

Price didn't act surprised or hurt when Martha's affair was evident. That was either because he was dumb and haven't realized yet or he simply didn't care, but you knew how sharp big Price was. He wasn't a captain for nothing. You knew how attentive he is about anything and anyone around him, so you guessed he knew. And that started eating up your head with questions fueled by the alcohol in your system: Were you a part of his plan to get back at Martha for her cheating? Was this deep connection between you two something made up by Price to hopefully seduce you despite your sexuality only to shove the emotional affair to his girlfriend's face?

Fuck, you were so stupid. So fucking stupid. First it was your ex Lisa Higgins cheating on you after two years together apparently because you weren't as bold and wild as you used to be when she met you. Now it was John Price, who not only tried and succeed to make you forget about your ex and begin feeling more confident about yourself, but also made you question your sexuality and almost got you compleatly falling for him only to use this to get back at his cheating girlfriend.

You were done feeling heartbroken and used. You were done with romance, it simply wasn't for you. It only brought pain and misery.

"Hey, sweetheart?" You heard near the alleyway until John's face peeked from the brick wall looking at you worriedly. "What's happened? You alright...?" Was he following you again? Come on.

Without a thought you turned to him, your face showing nothing but hurt and vulnerability and Price couldn't contain himself so he quickly approached you wrapping you on your coat that you had forgotten inside and cooed at you as his arms wrapped around you trapping you on a suffocating hug. You whimpered on his chest and spoke up "When I was fresh out of college, I was invited to a party some of my old classmates were throwing." Price looked downwards a little confused until your teary eyes met his again. "No one told me I was the only girl coming or that the game they invented and insisted on me playing was only for them to enjoy... Or that the video they filmed about us playing said game would go viral on Twitter."

There was a pause then and realization hit Price quicker than you thought it would. "Jesus-"

"It obviously didn't turn well for them. But the damage was done. Some time later, the video was deleted, most of them are in jail now and I changed cities years before I met Lisa, but... Well. Since then I leaned more towards women, as you can imagine..."John crouched a bit to your level brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his hand was so warm it quickly comforted you. You looked up at him, both of you sharing an intense look that showed that the connection shared you thought lost wasn't so lost after all.

He whispered then "You are the strongest woman I know, (Y/n). I'm so sorry that happened to you..." Which got you sniffing so you could reply quickly reminding yourself of the previous negative thoughts you had about the captain.

"I'm not sorry. I'm much stronger now than I was then, so with that... I can tell you confidently that I'm a lesbian, John..." The way you said it sounded like you were chastising him.

"Are you?" Price asked arching a brow tilting your chin up. He was so close your hands pressed against his chest afraid he'd kiss you and make a fool out of yourself because you weren't sure you'd resist his charms any longer, all against your confidence of liking the opposite sex.

"You know the answer." You felt proud for saying it without a stutter. "Listen, if you are just doing this to use me for your vendetta against you cheater girlfriend, I can't help you. You-... Can't just ask me to like men!" You barked perplexed. Price on the other hand didn't blink, he just looked at you with half-lid eyes lost on every faction of your face making you think he truly hadn't paid attention to anything you just said.

"I don't give a rat's ass about Martha at this point, (Y/n)." Your eyes widened when he said that so plainly, your hands going slack on his chest until his other hand held them tight to his pectorals. "I'm not asking you to like men, only to like me." John grunted out in frustration, and your heart begun beating faster.

What is gender when it comes to love. What is your sexual orientation when you have someone you love and cherish so deeply at the palms of your hands, kissing your feet and loving you unconditionally wanting nothing but to pleasure you in any way they can, to make you feel special and more importantly, loved. Is John Price worth your heart?

"I'm leaving for approximately three months. It's work related and strictly confidential." He continues after giving you some seconds to digest what he said "I don't want you to pity me and force yourself to love me when we are fine just as we are, love. But I want to tell you that the only person that I'll have in my head when I leave England will be you, (Y/n). Not Martha, not our friend group, not my piers or any other bloody person in this country but you."

The sob that scaped your mouth made you feel a pang of embarrassment that forced you to quickly look away until Price turned desperate gently turning your face his way with both hands on your cheeks. "Lie to me... Tell me that you love me, (Y/n). Just once before I leave."

Why is he so dramatic? Is this for real? Could it be that this mission was mortal? He was in the military, this wasn't some stupid work trip where he'd have to talk to some higher-ups and after a week or two he'd come back like nothing happenend. He'd be handling guns and getting fired at. He'd have more wounds and scars to show you followed by countless stories about how he dodged death only to make you realize that his job was indeed dangerous and he wasn't inmortal.

"...I can't..." You sobbed.

"...Why?" He asked, his voice sounding broken contradicting the confident and strong aura he always radiated.

"Why? I'd never lie to you... You dimwit." That earned a loud chuckle from him that sounded painful, like he was forcing himself to laugh instead of crying right then and there. "I'm not ready to say it... Not yet." You whispered, and Price exhaled.

After that, he kissed your hairline, both hands still holding your cheeks up applying more pressure into the kiss before he turned away with a rushed "Goodnight, love." Leaving you there dumbfounded with the realization that, despite claiming that you'd never lie to him, you already did when you told him of your sexuality. At this point you'd consider yourself Price-sexual if that was even a thing, which you were sure it was with the way all your lady friends looked at Price back in the bar.

You needed some time alone in the alley when Price left, feeling an upcoming headache with all the things you felt tonight. When you went back to the bar everyone was there but Price who had left leaving no excuse, but everyone thought he did because of Martha's stunt so they didn't fault him.

______

Two months without seeing or hearing nothing from Price. You felt like you'd go mad.

The countless texts and calls you sent went ignored. You cursed him for leaving you like that, you begged him to call you whenever he could, you reminded him of the silly nightly scapades you made and how fun it was to do literally anything with him, sent pictures of your cat who he always wanted to meet yet you claimed he had to organize a plan with you and his team first, told him how shitty his music taste was and yet how fitting once you investigated the bands he recommend to you when you met. Lastly, you also apologized again and explained all of this was too confusing for you when you were still trying to move on from Lisa and past trauma.

And on the third month, nothing.

Your life felt oddly normal, like Price never existed. Like you never left the group at all. It wasn't a surprise when Alan and Martha openly announced their friends with benefits' relationship out of the blue, most of your friends actually left the group after that because they felt she had messed up the whole dynamic by sleeping with half of the guys when she was in a relationship. Alan didn't keep quiet as he should have and defended her with stupid excuses that pissed all of you off. And yet, after some time, things kind of went back to normal when Martha suddenly disappeared. Alan said she was tired of all the drama and blamed you all for the group's decay deciding she'd focus more on Price and Price alone.

None of you believed her bullshit, specially you who knew Price was still on duty, but otherwise kept quiet on the matter because finally without Alan and Martha, the group recovered itself quickly and you all swore you would never sleep with each other so this types of dramas wouldn't happen again.

Your job was... Boring. Like always. But the routine and your friends helped you heal from Lisa and distracted you from your unfinished business with Price. On this third month without him, you begun going to therapy and it's the best thing you could have done. You had to carry multiple tissues in the first few sessions, and that's when you realized just how many feelings you had suppressed all this years. By the end of the month you realized (if it wasn't clear enough with Price's charms) that you were indeed bisexual, but all the pent up trauma formed a giant wall between you and the opposite sex that made you believe you had lost all attraction you held for men, but Price was the awakening, or so the therapist said. And you couldn't deny it, but you also agreed that it was best to remain single and focus on yourself in order to heal and form healthier friendships and even romantic relationships with other people.

Texting Price was no longer in your routine. Every time you felt the urge to do so, you'd watch a random episode from your favorite series, read a book or take Raspberry for a walk on the park with the new leash you had purchased from Amazon for the orange cat's fourth birthday.

Out of England, John was a mess and was only doing a little worse each day away from home. He'd focus on the mission and would never waver from it, even when his unit tried to take some breaks so they could catch air and relax from work, such thing never crossed Price's mind as he was eager to finish quickly so he'd go back to you. They were all worried, even Ghost, being the quietest, expressed his concerns about Price's change of personality. How he was more snappy than usual, always seemed to sulk, being overly reactive to the enemy's counterattacks just as he was with Laswell when she claimed they'd probably spend another few weeks if not another month stuck in there. Once he almost reached the fourth month away from you, he finally, oh finally, accomplished his duty and was granted permission to leave home earlier than anyone had liked. Frankly he didn't give a fuck about how badly it looked from him (as a captain) to leave "early", as this mission got on his nerves and he was worried sick about your view of him after he left the way he did to then throw a killing blow by ignoring your texts since he was not allowed to contact anyone at that time. But you didn't know that.

When he returned to his apartment, Price went directly to charge his phone and threw himself to the bathroom eager to enjoy a long, well-deserved shower followed by a wank. Watching the grime wash from his body being carried by the steaming water was something John didn't think he'd watch ever again. This mission was hellish to say the least, too many close calls, many fellow soldiers lost in enemy territory, many new scars to "brag" about... And he was fucking exhausted, so at the last minute he decided to skip the wank and read your messages.

This mission shouldn't have tired him the way it did. After all, he IS a captain. He is in the military. This should have been a walk in the park for him but... But where was his heart and head if not in the field of battle? He was too worried over losing you all over again due to his absence that it tired him mentally, so much so that instead of worrying for his life, Price only feared he'd never see you again, that he'd die without hearing you say that you reciprocated his feelings.

Honestly, you did imply that you do, but you never properly said "I love you." It's scary how much power that one sentence held over Price. How he felt like he could die in peace if only you said such thing. It was stupid, childish, even. But he couldn't help but feel weak over you.

Price didn't know you for a full year and he felt like he'd loose himself if he never got to see you again. Just like young lovers feeling so much intensity in their first relationship they'd be planning their future together even though they wouldn't last long. Maybe's because you were best friends, maybe's because of the limitations in your relationship due to your sexuality and his girlfriend... His obsession could be caused by many factors. But the easiest answer was simply because you were you. Because he never craved anything or anyone the way he craved you. Because you brought that spark to his life he never thought he needed until he begun feeling it in your company.

Because you were his everything.

Finding thousands upon thousands of texts an calls from you stirred something primal in Price. A need of returning to you, of feeling a loving touch after all these months of blood and carnage, to receive a sassy remark or literally anything you wanted to throw at him to comfort his old tired body, to make him feel like he was safe away from danger. The captain needed to return to his home, and his home was his woman.

Lover or friend, no matter what you chose, you were his. He'd be damned if he never got to tell you this.

______

On your way home from work, you felt a strange feeling of anticipation. You wanted to excuse it telling yourself it was because you were craving to get out of the rain and snuggle with your cat, much to his distaste.

Your eyes widen when you spotted a hooded figure sitting in your porch. The man is tall, the hoodie is old and from a certain someone's favorite football team. The hooded person lifted his head and you stood there frozen, a few steps away from where he was sat.

"John...?" Price felt like he'd die right there when you weakly called his name.

The months apart messed with his head and right now he could only feel... Yearning. He yearned for this.

His giant body propelled itself from the steps like an invisible force was pushing him to touch you. Your drenched body cried at the contact of his warmth and the smell of blue lavender Axe, his favorite deodorant. His arms wrapped around your middle and yours hugged his neck while Price buried his face on you wet locks with a needy sound you could only describe as a whine, you did the same with his neck lowering his hood that now uncovered his oak hair. No longer wet under the rain, your porch secured you from the shitty weather. You both panted at the contact as if during all these months you couldn't properly breath until you were holding one another.

Fuck the invisible chastity belt, fuck your doubts about your sexuality. Your John is back home, and you are one hundred percent willing to give him a very warm and wet welcome.

"Hello, dolly..." John gasped and you chuckled emotional, your shaky hand struggled to fish your keys from your coat's pocket eager to get the wet captain out of the cold.

"Hello to you too, big Price-..." You made a quick move to scape his bear hug and he didn't fight, afraid of crossing your boundaries until your hand took his tightly while you made quick work on opening your front door to drag the tired man inside your home until.

"SLAAAAG!" Your neighbor yelled from across the street.

John and you froze, shared a confused look then turned back to face your annoying neighbor.

"FUCK YOU, RONALD!" You screamed and Price followed back with a "GET YER FUCKING ASS HOME, RONALD!" Yeah. That's the same sexist neighbor you two tormented one drunken night by covering his entire work van with pink post-its.

"FUCK THE PAIR OF YA!" He wishes. "I SPENT MY WHOLE SATURDAY MORNING GETTIN' RID OF 'EM GIRLY PINK POST-ITS FROM MA' VAN! YA WANKERS! I KNOW IT WAS YOU! I'LL SUE YA!" The old man threatened trying to open his front door to secure the grocery bags from the rain. He looked clownish as hell, the insults and threats never affected you guys only causing a fit of low laughter to scape your grinning mouths.

"Ow fuck off you fucking dinosaur! Get the fuck back inside before I demolish ya!" Price said back with laughter on his tone rising a fist to your neighbor's way, that earned him a smack on the chest from you compleatly amused by his empty threat. Price tilted his head to your door silently begging you to hurry and you complied.

You two rushed inside leaving the old man baffled taking a second before he resumed his list of insults lovingly dedicated to the both of you. Ronald probably thought he won the fight so soon you'll have to put him on his place with one of you pranks. But now you MUST focus on Price.

After you closed the door and dropped your wet coat to the previously dry floor so carelessly, you jumped on Price shoving him against the wall with the force of the impact, your arms and legs wrapped around him like a monkey while he held you up tightly laughing endeared.

"Where the heck were you!? I told you to call me!" You exclaimed nuzzling your cheek against his loving the way he practically melted at this gesture, his beard scratched your skin as he pressed closer letting out an exhale that seemed to rob him of all the air from his lungs. You weren't mad at him after all. God, the relief. And this new cuddly side of you? He couldn't believe this was real. Weren't you resentful? Your loving nuzzles don't express so.

John's shoulders shook with the small enamoured chuckle he let out, then, he leaned close to whisper in your ear making you shiver lightly "I told you it was classified, love. Besides, I wanted to surprise you." He gave you a small pat on the bum. "Did I succeed?" He purred lastly, voice liquid honey.

You felt-... You felt warm all over. And you were sure he knew it by the way he was pressing yourself closer and closer, and fuck. There was no doubt the gigantic tent on his pants wasn't any of those big guns they carried on the military. Just when the realization hit you that you had John breathing heavily in your ear, your body compleatly wrapped around his while his erection was pressing hardly and JUST right against your clothed cunt, you whimpered.

"Fuck." You hummed. Weren't you supposed to avoid this? You should talk to your therapist about it next monday...

"What do we..." John breathed out, still afraid he was surpassing your boundaries.

Your eyes met his, noses gracing due to being in such close distance. He was immobile, his hands still supporting your weight by your bum and his boner pretty evident as it stabbed your jeans over your wet panties.

"You a virgin?" You joked, he tilted his head slightly back to fix you a confused but amused look with a small squint.

"Is there a right answer...?" Price mustered sounding uncharacteristically flustered and nervous.

"You act like one, big P." You grinned and his eyes darkened.

"God, I fucking missed you."

Your lips clashed in a heated kiss that felt fucking perfect even if it was a blur between lips, teeth and tongue. Gosh he had so much hair on his face, and yet it fit perfectly. His hands were massaging and squeezing your ass, now blindly walking to your living room until you both reached the couch where he flopped you on your back making Raspberry yelp in surprise, the poor cat hurried to get the fuck out of the room before Price begun taking his clothes off laughing in eagerness with you as you did the same. Like two young lovers, as mentioned. In a blink, your clothes were all across the carpet. With matching eagerness you made a quick move to straddle the aroused captain who whistled at how fast you moved to top him.

How proud he momentarily looked. Price's sure you'd be quick learning self-defense technics if he were to teach you. Maybe the reward of sex could be a motivator judging by how lightheaded and hungry you seemed on top. Of course he was only letting you on top because he fucking missed you and felt like he owed you.

His heaving hairy chest tickled your breasts once you fully sat on his lap with his erection pressing against his toned abdomen, your eagerness seeming to tone down feeling slightly intimidated by the sight of the giant captain being used as a human chair, cock standing proudly between you.

"W-well..." You stuttered. But who could fault you? Imagine being a lesbian for years and finding yourself straddling a guy with a cock the size of a monster can, and fat as one too. It was meaty all over, cut, with a big pink tip. His big thighs shifted a little impatiently from time to time because of the arousal. Even his nipples under the small mat of hair on his chest had gone hard as peebles. You felt... Aroused but intimidated, and Price could tell, his voice coming low and comforting but teasing nonetheless.

"Now who's acting like a virg-"

You shut him up by robing him a kiss, he hummed in delight. The kiss was brief but deep, soon reviving the fire in your cunt. His sky eyes shut as you moved back again to assess the issue staring down his huge dick with a determinated look.

"If I only knew you'd be shutting me up with kisses... I would have turned the most talkative mother fucker in all London." His awful flirting worked dissipating your nerves further, yet after a little pause feeling the little hesitation you had left, he wanted to make sure.

"We don't have ta' do this." Prices' tone was soft and assuring, but you already made up your mind and you were one hundred percent sure you could do this.

"You are such a sweet talker, love..." Price tried to fight the huge grin on his face when you called him that, but just like a happy dog moving it's tail, his cock twitched in between your folds, reannouncing his arousal. You grinned delighted at this leaning to his ear, his eyes entranced at the sight of your bare tits pressing up against his chest.

"You do like it when I praise ya, huh?" You whispered on his ear, he agreed in a light "uh huh..." Both hands massaging your thighs impatient, his breathing going raspy, but he was clearly holding himself back. "I'm okay with this... No need to be so cautious when you've got me naked n' wet all over you, John." You purred nibbling on his earlobe. To such sentence, his body begun reacting accordingly to how he was feeling, his tip leaked, his hands grew sweaty and his breathing heaved deeper, his thighs shifted more and more under you suffering from the strong desire to thrust up.

His lips found yours, one of his hands cupped your right ass cheek as the other guided your hand towards his leaking cock delivering your lower lip a bite as your small hand grabbed his heating cock firmly. Then, John asked. "Can I speak bluntly...?" You whined a "sure... Stop usin' filters... Just fucking tell me what you think, big P." He was so sweet for asking though.

"Right then..." The way his eyes darked and the strong painful squeeze on your buttocks made you shift on the spot. "I'm gonna fuck you so fucking hard, luv... You've got no idea how long I wanted to do this..."

But it was your response what got Price feeling like this whole ordeal was just one of his deepest darkest fantasies about you being manifested by his tired brain. "Fuck me, huh? I think I'll be the one fucking you, big P. Look at us. The big scary captain Price just returning home to be riden to death, pussydrunk and victorious."

The following growl he let out was nothing but sinful, the sweet result of your eager hand moving his cock fixing the tip in between your folds drenching it with your arousal, the perfect natural lubricant. "I've brought condoms." Price said stopping you from sinking down his member any further. Your eyes met his once again, pupils so dilated he could see his own reflection in them.

"We'll deal with the consequences later. Buy a pill or something, I don't care..."

Price was weak man. He was so fucking weak for you.

"How irresponsible~..." He was so quick to shut up with a loud grunt that sounded like old guy getting kicked on the balls once your ass was fully seated on his lap. His cock slid directly inside with zero effort, punching your womb with the force of your abrupt jump downwards practically impaling your small body. He'd have to reward you somehow by how nice and quiet you tried to be once the whole monster entered your small, flushed pussy.

Price had this shit-eating grin staring up at your fucked out face. You shifted on the spot with his cock still inside molding your walls, soon adjusting your legs planting the heels of your feet on the the couch on each side of his wide legs. John picked up on this and held your ass more firmly, both hands enjoying the way your ass cheeks melted to his palm. Then you grinned back with this challenging look, and Price was in.

Your ass sunk aggressively hard, instantly with a very desperate pace colliding against his thighs and big, hairy, pulsating balls. John sat there with his mouth watering and eyes widening at the sight of your blissed out face, the loud moans you let out were Price's new favorite sound. Your moans, and how awfully dirty you begun to talk.

"F-fucking perfect..." You let out, eyes hypnotized by the way his pecs begun lightly jiggling like jello at the pace and force of your hips. "I needed this cock, John. Fuck-fuck- I... I needed you to fucking impale me with this fucking thing." Jesus.

Your higher body leaned back arching like a cat, with one hand using his left shoulder as leverage and the other supporting your weight on his knee. His own helped you guiding your pace by your hips, big calloused palms nuzzling and squeezing your tender skin. "Y' like ma' cock so much you'll end up- ..." He growled deeply at the realization of what he was about to say. "... fucken' knocking yourself up with my babies..."

Oh it shouldn't make you this desperate to hear such thing. The topic of kids was always something you avoided. But can you avoid it now with the way your body shivered, your pace turning sloppier and aggressive and your moans turning louder? "Y-YEAH! SHIT!"

Price felt like fainting right then and there, your whole body went forwards once more digging one of your nipples on his watering mouth. You both cried out loud when he met your eager jumps with thrusts of his own, balls hitting your ass so fucking hard, the clapping sounds could almost match in height your screans of bliss. How could a small doll like you NOT break with the way his cock bullied your insides like a horse in heat? How he felt the small tip of your cervix kiss his cock head, your painfully tight walls strangling his giant cock.

Your screams of pleasure will most definitely be the topic of the next meeting between your neighbors by the end of the week, and honestly? You were happy about letting them know that all the effort and training you had spent fucking dragon dildos up until now had been rewarded with the giant cock of your best friend testing the flexibility of your cunt.

"H-have no idea- AH! F-ffff....of how- of how long I've spent fucking touching myself thinking about this monster cock...H-How it bulged-" You whined reaching a second orgasm, Price's thumb didn't help one bit as it rubbed harshly on your small puffy clit.

"Y-yeah? Tell me about it, sweetheart..." He begged, body all shiny with sweat biting his lower lip at the small building pain from his spine by the way he was thrusting up so hard.

"Y-" A scream interrumped you, pace slowing down. Your whole body shivered and the urge to pee was so overwhelming you simply let go, your ears rang missing the way Price moaned out when his cock was being strangled harder than before and he could feel the waves of pleasure from your cunt. A big shot of squirt drenched his whole abdomen, his thumb aggressively played with your clit in order to prolong the orgasm. Prices' eyes went so wide it was almost comical, your body was shaking as if you got electro shocked, one hand weakly punching his chest so he'd stop and the other squeezed his knee painfully, your mouth open and whaling in pleasure followed by fat tears at how fucking blissful it felt to squirt so much and so hard all over your sweet captain. Price couldn't hold himself still, and against your wishes, (he'll apologize later) he flipped you over wrapping his arms around your body. He laid you down with your head almost handging off the armrest of your ruined couch, your knees were pushed to your ears' level and the enormous figure of Price engulfed your form when he lowered his body to hold your position still by tightly gripping at your ankles, pistoning his cock in and out of your puffy, squirt-drenched pussy. He applied all the force his sore body allowed him by using his toes by the end of the couch as support instead of his knees.

Imagine the bliss of an eighty four kilogram mountain of muscle dropping his whole weight at a quick pace against your crying sex. You were screaming before but now you were in a deep coma and he was the one screaming feeling his cock get milked in a way he has never experienced in his forty years of life on this earth. "F-FUUUUUCK... YES! FUCKING KEEP SQUEEZIN' ON MY DICK, BABY!" Price was shooting prayers at the sky, but the only goddess they were directed to was you and your enchanting, addicting pussy. "Y-YEAH... SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT..." When was the last time he felt like this in bed? Fuck, you truly were the one and only for him.

And it was one particular stab of his cock what seemed to bring you back to life, eyes going white rolling back. You moved your head forwards slowly, your chin pressing on your chest to properly look at the relentless attack of Price's cock, thrust going sloppy and uneven. There's no words that could describe the love you two felt at that moment, when your eyes met, mouth drooling with the purest of pleasure before you lowly growled. "Give me your seed, John..."

Price didn't ask where, he just let go inside of you. His feet were in the air when he delivered one final thrust, his waist was pressing hard against yours with the weight of his lower half, his hands still used your ankles as leverage to not fall on top of you. Price roared out his orgasm at the incredible and indescribable feeling of his balls emptying somewhere VERY deep inside your pussy, so fucking deep you could imagine the fountain of semen reaching even your throat (though anatomically incorrect). You two panted like dogs, still unmoving but not for now with the way your bodies seemed to give up on both of you.

Price held your expent body close, you two cuddled on the small space of your couch bathed in various different fluids.

Counting two minutes laying there in silence with your eyes closed, head pressed against his hairy chest, Price's soft feather touch along your waist stirred you up to reality. The feeling of your pussy crying rivers of cum made you round the Captain's waist with your leg followed by a long exhausted hum.

"Jesus..." You have no idea who out the two of you said that. But mood. That was the most intense sex you've ever had.

"Uff... That felt like three rounds in one go if you have any left..." You exhaled with a soft smile looking up at John who lazily blinked at you with a small smile of his own.

"Aha... Might wanna give me some time to recover, firecracker. Fuck, not even my job gets me this sweaty..." The captain jested earning a little kiss on the tip of his nose. "I wanna... I wanna melt right here for now. With you."

Your tired smile softened making Price lean impossibly closer to you. Curling against your sweaty body felt like heaven after the hell he had gone to all these months. Like you could read his mind, you asked.

"What's it like out there? Being a captain n' all?" You had never asked him many questions about his role in the military because the mere mention of his job brought a somber look on his half-lid eyes. You knew it was a heavy topic for Price, he stood proudly on his occupation but you could read the pain he felt when he recalled the things he did and people he had lost to get to where he was right now.

John spoke lowly, tiredness making his foggy brain answer with sincerity. "No body ever told me being a captain could be this... Suffocating. I just knew when I was promoted. Everyone keeps askin' me what I wanna do durin' missions... And I just look at 'em and say what they want and need ta' hear. But you know what I really wanna do?" He took a pause then, eating up the sight of you naked on his chest with this comforting look on your face. "I wanna go home, hug you even if I never was a hugger... I wanna get the clean cups outta the dishwasher and put 'em in the cupboard to make some tea for us in the morning. I wanna watch you drinking it peacefully as you rant to me about this new book you've read or show you've seen, tell me of the new plans you've made for us in the night, who'd be pranking and what we'd be drinking while doing so. I wanna make you feel good, so good, wanna make ya orgasm as many times as I can to pay for all the time I'm gone for work. Truly. I just..." John sighed. And after a small pause he gave you the word to speak.

"I wanna sleep. All the time. Sometimes it feels like, when I have my eyes closed I can somehow travel to a dream where I don't feel shitty or useless or unloved constantly. And then I wake up and you are missing and I'm back to that crappy reality where I can only feel like shit." Your confession squeezed his chest so hard, the exhausted brit felt tears gathering on his eyes.

"No longer." Price promised.

"No longer." You echoed mimicking his manly voice breaking the soft moment causing John to giggle like a kid at your clownery. Such a funny and strange sound coming from him, but at the same time so fitting with that sweet stupid smile he was gracing you with.

"Fuck, you are beautiful." He said.

"I love you." You replied.

.

[liquidstar]

This is such a tangent btw but on the topic of guilt tripping and reblogs... I remember a few years back there were some terrible fires in Greece (and again this year, entire island villages are gone now) and at that time I had family who were caught in them. I can't describe the desperation I felt with these horrible things happening to my family and loved ones in my country. And I remember being frustrated and desperate with how no one around me in America really seemed to give a shit. I remember blogging asking people to PLEASE care please share something please reblog this link for mutual aid please think about the stories and fires etc etc etc. And the thing is I was very much in a state of grief myself, maybe not every word or action was perfectly reasonable, because I don't realistically expect everyone everywhere to care about every tragedy in the world. You can't. Emotionally it's just not possible, especially with all the stuff going on in the states rn too. Yeah it's a lot. It's not like I blog about every tragedy that ever happens either. I understand.

HOWEVER what I also remember was at this time there were a couple mutuals very clearly making vagueposts along the lines of "remember not everyone has the energy to care about everything in the world uwu" while I was posting about family who died and family who were drifting in the ocean for hours as their homes and loved ones burned. Listen. You have to understand sometimes that when a person in grief and frustration with things going on in their countries and communities impacts them very personally beg you to care... It's coming from a place of needing to see that care in the world in general. They're not holding a gun to your head Specifically saying you have to reblog the posts, if you don't have the energy just ignore it.

You don't have to go out of your way saying "um actually I can't care about the horrible stuff you and your family and your country are experiencing rn. I'm too busy focusing on my own stuff so can you be quiet or more reasonable with your grief thanks." Like. Just keep it to yourself then??? Have some fucking sympathy for other people and understand that maybe it's not always logical. The same way you don't have the emotional energy to think about every tragedy in the world, people who've been impacted by them often don't have the emotional energy to handle that alone and may seek somekinda community or solidarity. Idk. It's not about forcing shit on you sometimes it's not about you

[radfemsiren]

I saw the polls and I know that it's mostly white people who fuck US up and it's all men who perpetuate misogyny, but on a personal level, can I say how I hate how TIMs behave about it?

#NotAllTIMs, two (100%) of my TIM mutuals are normal and at least two site-wide TIM celebrities are empathetic, but a lot of them (I hope plaidos dies) treat it like a joke occasion.

Fuckers going on like "well it sucks, but us was already fascist to the rest of the world, so american women being scared is very selfish and privileged uwu" all while several months ago they were yapping how awful it is that all candidates in UK are twanzfobic.

Yeah, political events are less important than 10 hours streak of posting about forcefem.

And yet all posts about possible consequences for your country start with "trans issues". I know that on tumblr it's primarily TIFs, but I am still so depressed that people are working their damn hardest to mitigate the only impact these chaos agents will feel (okay, a lot of them are allegedly in same-sex relationships, but they are still men).

I maintain that TIMs are no more dangerous than other moids and today I posted more TIM hate than I did ever, but I decided that all people with urls like "catgirlstalin" are definitely a high priority enemy.

Yea trans identified males are inherently no more dangerous than any other man, but the movement draws abusers and predators like moths to flame because there are no consequences for them being openly hatful and violent to women. Like priests or cops.

Yknow it’s bad when I was shocked when the guy that made the “demure” trend on TikTok was crying about women losing our abortion rights. “How could a woman push and labor you out of her for you to treat her this way?”

It was so shocking to me because I never heard a trans identified male be so openly supportive of women and feminism. If the trans movement acted like that and embraced women having boundaries, protected spaces, and liberation from patriarchy… the reaction from radical feminists would be completely different. They could be our allies and a testimony that expressions of femininity isn’t inherently woman, and that gender is an oppressive social construct that patriarchy enforces and uses to punish women.

Unfortunately the majority of them don’t behave this way time and time again, and ally themselves with misogyny and the rest of the oppressor class in a show of male solidarity :/

[caffstrink]

do you have any tips on how to live off as artist professionally?

First of all art isn't always a viable option depending where you live. The only reason ive been able to live off art is because the american dollar is worth 5x more than the brazilian real so even if i didn't get many comms i could still get by with the few i had. and if that wasn't the case I'd pretty much be eating breadcrumbs off the floor like a pigeon.

1. Whore yourself out and draw fanart of every popular or trending thing to gather attention to youe art

2. Learn your platforms: learn how each websites algorithm works, learn what are the best hours to post, etc

3. I cannot stress enough how important it is to find your niche

4. Everyone is fake no one wants to be your friend, other popular artists will start following you the moment your following becomes good enough. They'll start to interact with you too and want to become mutuals in order to share followings/traction. If you can play into that you can get them to share your stuff as well, but honestly don't fall for it bc most of them shittalk other artists on their privs or personal servers and the stress isnt worth it

5. Draw nsfw if possible/if you're comfortable with. People who commission porn pay well and they often have very few options when commissioning stuff bc most artists don't accept porn commissions.

6. Accept being an artist is a hard job that doesn't pay really well. If you're freelancing on comms life's always going to be a tightrope, so i suggest trying to do professional work once in a while so you can at least have the security of a salary. Draw backgrounds, gestures, scenes, studies, and the likes, bc those are what companies will want in your portfolio

7. Depending where you live it's extremely hard to live off as an artist, and being an artist is often means a very difficult struggle with finances. It's a job that requires passion, and more often than not turning art in a job causes creative burnout and complete loss of spark for it. Ask yourself: why do you want to be a professional artist? Isn't it better to keep it as a hobby? Maybe a side gig if you need money? You can still pursue art even if you don't do it to earn money, and it doesn't make you any less of an artist. It's a difficult job, and you need to understand its not going to be viable at all times and sometimes you'll have to throw in the towel and do something else to survive and there's 0 shame in that.

8. Be professional and courteous with your clients. Don't be a doormat, but don't go around ghosting people or being passive aggressive or taking them for granted and never deliver any product. Doing art for money is a JOB. Treat it like such. Inform your clients about delays, or any issues that may come up.

9. Take care of yourself and by that i mean eat decent food, exercise your arms, get 8 hours of sleep and get some sun (or take vitamin D periodically if youre a basement dweller). This isn't some self care uwu shit, it's actual science that your body is a machine and not providing what it needs to function leads to issues, and some of those issues include affecting your mental health, and mental health issues include and are not limited to: anxiety, depression, burnout, loneliness, feeling like your art sucks, feeling unmotivated, feeling like you're a failure, etc. Same with physical: for the love of GOD you DON'T want wrist issues. You dont want carpal or ulnar nerve entrapment. Don't draw 24/7. Don't push yourself either. If youre feeling shitty its time to STOP. Just picture a shitty graphics card trying to run minecraft with 5 shaders and 10 mods at once on fullscreen with 60 fps. Thats you. Youre the graphics card

10. Don't be a bitch, don't get involved with drama. Can't be an internet artist if you get cancelled so don't try to start shit at any point in time. Don't be a shit person.

And from the top of my head thats it, hope you like eating plain bread 🍞

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

sunday ungodly hour brain dump let’s gooooo (happy end of daylight savings,, 😪)

so this week I swallowed my pride and got into contact with people I haven’t spoken to in years to ask if I can use them as work references and the whole experience has been very eye-opening about how other people see me, in a very positive way

Gonna be honest, I was surprised that three of them not only remembered me enough to say yes but were also happy to hear from me 🥺 like two of them I understand more bc one is a friend and is super nice to begin with, and the other is a high school teacher I spent time with outside of classes during band practices and saw fairly recently at his retirement party.

But the third is a professor I only spoke to a few times in class? And I mean yeah we’re instagram mutuals but it’s not like we ever sat down and talked, you know? Did I do really well in his class? (yeah but that’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of professor life) Did I leave a lasting impression on him? (I mean I did drink a lot of the fancy strong wine he brought on the last day of class because he offered up the last of the bottle and seemed happy about me taking it before striking up a brief conversation about it [did I mention he taught a wine course, which in fact did count towards my degree])

Where was I going with this. Oh yeah anyway, I found out after he responded positively to my email that HE WAS ALSO A FORMER DEAN OF MY UNIVERSITY. HELP???

But that’s beside the point. It just astounds me to know that people do in fact think and remember me because I sure as hell Did Not think I left that much of an impression at the time. Like even if they’re all just being polite in saying they’ll vouch for me, the fact that they even responded to me in the first place was really nice. At this point even if I don’t get the job, I think I can ride this high for a long time 🥹💗 (though I would still like the job pls and thank uwu)

[hazbmymhotel]

Gotta ask you about our mutual love: Husk for the meme uwu

My NOTP for them

Ahhh…unsure…I ship him…so hard…

My BROTP for them

Radiohusk: Husk x Alastor! I feel like they're Statler and Waldorf from the muppets

My OTP for them

TuxedoCats: Husk X Mordecai!!!! I love them together. They can be toxic af, they can be warm

My second choice pairing for them

Cardshark: Husk x Vox. I'm terribly hot for them 🥵 Big tv man and tiny kitty? What can I do?!

My fluffy pairing for them

Huskerdust: Husk x Angel. Very cute, soft, talk for hours

My angsty pairing for them

CasinoSweep: Husk x Niffty, stuck in a tortuous loop under Alastor. Also I headcanon sometimes that Husk had dementia and Niffty was brought in for his nurse.

My favorite poly ship for them

StickySpaceTuxedos: That's Rocky Rickaby, Mordecai Heller, Avocato and Husk ofc.

C a t s.

Oh! Or

CasinoCats: Husk x Vox x Mordecai x Freckle x sometimes Rocky

That one is from my longest running rp with Husk

My weirdest pairing for them

Harem!Husk

All of them, all of them, all of them

Can we ship it? Yes. Huskcest? Yes. Travis? Yes. Charlie and Vaggie throuple? Yes.

(edited to add more gifs)

[dryams03]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAS!!

This drawing came actually pretty late, I'm really really sorry, but I hope it still counts! I made it with all my patience and heart in 11 h so... It better worths the while >:p

Don't mind me simping under the cut @goldazu || @ruki--mukami

Well, let's talk with truth and heart because those are the meaningful words we have in the world to speak.

First, I send to you past Mai 26 a single message with a happy birthday while I was... in the middle of something at the university, sleepless and stressed. Yes, a hard day with... 48 hours of speedrun...

I wrote something like I really hoped you were doing fine; but I really wanted to do more, I had this drawing on mind that moment but I wasn't able to do it.

But that didn't stop me you see, I wanted to do something special for you because you, honestly, you deserve it.

I think that every single soul that decides to share their inner worlds in any art branch that ever existed need to have a mutual like you. Not only because the wholesome and fulfilling support you give and the kindness you sprout to people around you but the way you show yourself so dedicated to your blog. Everything is so organized and your writing is perfect cause it feels so real! (sometimes I feel like Ruki is a real person and right behind there is you, the secretary, writing his speech with a bloc-note XD).

Girl, it's inspiring, I meant it a lot. And I hope, as you said, it stays like this a little bit longer, no matter how much. It will be fine.

I have to confess, before I met you I really have been having a little bit of troubles around my character. I was unsure that Cassie would find a place to develop her personality. Like... She has phases, right? And she could be amazingly cheerful and a literal sunlight at the beginning but she... Is more like that in the surface, you see. But none crossed that line. I think the problem was that I hadn't found in that time the kind of roleplay that I was looking at. The roleplay that sinks into the deepest parts of the characters and that make them give opinions, do more complicated actions, express themselves in the way they truly are. But, since the day you met Cassie you have been supporting me and I have been feeling a lot of confidence about my character. You really made me want to come back to Tumblr with a lot of energy, to renew and rethink my character, and show all her sides, all the beauty that she is intended to give, the lightest and the darkest side of her. And I granted part of this inspiration to you .

And, Jas, did you remember? Cuz I think I wouldn't forget it in my life——

Girl you made me a fanart of my girl in my birthday when you barely knew me!! I was like: I LOVE IT BUT WHY?! I was surprised! I wasn't expecting anything like that! And it made me so happy that I could barely keep myself entirely! (Also that day I was feeling pretty bad, I was having a terrible day and that simple thing changed completely my humor. No people physically around me understood it, but I didn't give a shit! I was happy! For true! Btw the picture is still in my smart clock and I don't plan to quit it uwu).

No matter the time you took to answer, that doesn't stop me to enjoy roleplaying with you. I'm glad you feel fulfilled with your life and I hope you can still walk to the future with all hopes.

I'm glad for having in my memory the day I clumsily popped into your inbox.

And, again, happy birthday Jas. I appreciate you a lot ♥️

[a-bucket-of-trash]

Bonds Like Tree’s Roots- Kelvin x Female Reader – P1

Prompt: A warm reunion of two ex soldiers can be the start of something else.

Tags: Fluff af because I love fluffy Kelvin uwu

A long jaded yawn crossed your body while you stretched your muscles long, in that boring noon. It was the least active time in the city, not to mention there, in that average library where you were temporarily working with your cousin. You were extremely bored, there had been no customers in hours and you had already put all the books in their place, so there was little else to do, other than perhaps reading to kill time, again.

You lazily rubbed the back of your neck, looking at the books on that particular shelf, in the foolish hope that something would catch your eye. You liked to read, but not enough to run to find a specific one, so your eyes wandered over the back of the books, while you absently hummed the instrumental version of The Sound Of Silence that was playing softly in the background. It was a library, slow instrumental tunes were the only kind of music they played, and while it was nice, it bored you sometimes.

A soft “Excuse me” sounded behind you, so you turned, looking for a moment at this man standing nearby, wearing a black leather jacket, in tune with a motorcycle outfit, black pants with pockets on the sides, military tone boots. It took you a couple of seconds to register his face, the brown hair, that pair of smiling brown eyes, before taking a short, surprised breath and saying a happy “Kelviiiiiiiin!” so hard that it made your cousin smile from the desk in the hall.

You immediately shortened the little space that was left, to hug him tightly, your arms chained around his neck, listening to him give a laughing "Hello", hugging you.

You almost couldn't believe you were looking at Kelvin, not after all. That soldier who had been seriously injured, deaf and mute, by your side, during those months of extreme survival on that dangerous secret island. The one who had sat next to you when you had been rescued after several months stranded. The one you could barely see again in the hospital, while he was recovering from his injuries. The one you lost track of when you lay off the service as a soldier, since you were from a different platoon and district than his. The one you hadn't seen since then, almost a year ago, and whom you thought you'd never see again.

You squeezed him even harder. The affection you had taken for that man, on the island, had been monumental, and you were completely sure that nothing had changed on your side. You still remembered, embarrassed, how at the time you had suggested to him to become "closer", being that you both were alone on an island, and how he, somewhat uncomfortable, had written you a "I'm sorry. Engaged” that left you internally ridiculed to even now.

You had remained very good friends, companions and mutual guardians, you had put your life in his hands, just as he had done with you, until life itself had separated you. But there he was, after so many months.

You released him gently, to see him better, still absurdly close to him, touching his shoulders. It would have been weird, unless he had never refused your physical closeness, neither before nor after your mini confession. You two had gotten used to it, and he was, secretly, a hard cuddly.

"God... Look at you, Mr. Style" You laughed, patting his chest "Jeez... So long... What the hell are you doing here?" You looked at his kind eyes and his beard from a couple of days.

"What? Can't I visit whom I owe my life to?” He smiled, patting your side.

"Sounds like I'm your mother." You laughed.

"With what you took care of me when I was half dead... almost" He shook his head softly, looking you up and down "You haven't changed a thing"

"You do" You looked at him better "I almost didn't recognize you... What the hell?"

"What are you taking about?" He frowned. "I look the same."

"Visually, yes... But I'm talking about..." You pointed randomly "I don't know, your presence, your way of speaking..."

"Maybe what you're noticing is that I don't have intracranial hemorrhage, total hearing loss, and a verbal difficulty," He admitted. "I'm basically the same as before the accident, silly... But I understand you, you got to know me better when I was half brainless, it's normal."

“Right…” You gently cupped his cheeks, as you used to do when you wanted to check his head back on the island, looking at him with a concerned air “How are you? Have you healed well? Tell me you don't have serious sequelae"

“I'm fine, calm down” He smiled, touched by your constant concern “I can't hear high-pitched sounds well, I have frequent migraines, PTSD, and I developed a strange taste for boiled eggs, but nothing serious. I am medicated, very medicated"

"Thank God." You sighed, relieved. "Are you still on duty?"

"No way. Even though they hadn't let me continue, they gave me medical sick leave."

You were going to speak, but your cousin's voice crossed the library, shouting a "Do me a favor and talk somewhere else, this is not a bar!"

You gently covered Kelvin's ears with your hands, so as not to strain his ears with loud sounds, and raised your voice to answer him with "It's work time!"

"Sure! Because, as you can see, there are a lot of customers!” Your cousin laughed "Get out of here, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Thank you! I'll tell you later!" You let go of your partner's head and looked at him “Do you have time for a coffee or do you have to go now?

"I have time, don't worry" He hesitated for a moment "If it can be in a quiet place, better... The crowds now make me a little anxious"

"Mmmm" You thought, walking through the shelves to where your backpack of things was, turning slightly to see him while you put it on "We won't find it quieter than in my house"

"Sounds good to me" He nodded, taking a pair of fabulous aviator-style sunglasses from his pocket, putting them on "I'll take you"

You smiled slightly, he looked seductively cool, with much more style than you used to see in that area. You said a quick goodbye to your cousin, who followed Kelvin with his eyes, sure that he would later ask you questions about your friend, and you left the library, with him following close behind.

You saw him go ahead and approach a good-sized black motorcycle that was parked on the sidewalk, and as soon as you got closer, he put his black military-style helmet directly on your head.

“Is it too tight or too loose?” He asked, checking your head, seeing your “ok” sign.

Kelvin got on his motorcycle, with great agility, starting the engine, which purred like a giant cat, looking at you and gesturing for you to get on.

Smiling to yourself, you climbed behind. It wasn't the first time you'd been on one of those machines, on the contrary, when you were young you were the first to get on whatever had two wheels, and in your years in service, you did everything possible to get into a motorized squad. You loved motorcycles, you had always dreamed of having one for yourself and spending a whole month just on the road, seeing the landscapes on top of an iron horse.

But now it was also Kelvin who would be driving. You were going to hold on to his waist as if you were terrified of life, just to feel him a little.

"You're going to have to tell me where and when to turn" He mentioned, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he felt your arms hold him tightly, which made him believe that you didn't feel safe getting on one of those "Lord... I'm sorry, are you too scared to go back there? Would you rather we walk?"

"Noooo" You laughed, looking at him "I love motorcycles, I'm just being a little clingy, sorry"

"Ah" He laughed "Would you rather go fast or enjoy the engine?"

“I have no interest in breaking my neck under a truck, I prefer to go slow and enjoy the ride”

"That's my girl" He smiled, looking straight ahead again and pulling away.

Your face turned various shades of red as you felt yourself move. Still, you enjoyed the ride, a soft purr through the city streets, holding onto Kelvin's firm body, feeling his warmth slowly intoxicating you.

P2

[owo-writing-man]

Hello.. Apologise for texting like this.

I just read your numb poem and I actually loved it alot..so I thought of coming here telling to your alter that

Would you like to be friends?

Have a great ~

Me?

I wouldn't mind at all. I'm just bad with upkeep in being friends sometimes and forget to message. (Blame that on my forget thing disorder)

But yea. Just hit me whenever. I think pms should be on? Or maybe that's just for mutuals.

You had me jump scared originally. Cause the notification was " hello... Apologies" And I was like

"fuck.who got cancelled. What's going on? Bro no. Not rn. I'm in a different state"

I also have like a ton of poems I can show and share. Just not rn. I'm out at dinner. I can in like a couple hours.

Oh also my alt is @uwu-reading-girl that has some poems if you wanna scroll on that.

-sew

[reiketsui]

For canon muses: what's the worst take, headcanon or even canon moment you saw regarding your muse? ( yea based on your post about the rancid tag )

i'm sorry gio for this hornet nest you have poked ily I'M GONNA SOUND EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE IN THIS BUT DW I'M FINE I'M OKAY I'M JUST PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS CHARACTER IN A WAY THAT ALTERS MY MENTAL STATE

it's the WHOLE fucking umbrella of giovanni simping. and really the SIMPING, and reducing his entire personality to that and only that. maybe it's just difficult to get right or something? it is a delicate balance. like whatever if someone makes a joke about it it's funny and i love the jokes i get here about it in moderation because i know my friends and mutuals UNDERSTAND it's not all there is. and ic reactions are a different thing entirely bc the dynamic/their reputation to outsiders may present the bond between them like that.

i see it more as archer's personal lack of self-worth and his need to be flawless and perfect and his flawed sense of self-destructive loyalty, and who else he could project that onto than his boss who literally saved his life and elevated him from a dirt poor street rat into one of the most brutal, skilled and sought after criminals in the kanto-johto area. archer doesn't follow his order blindly, he may even challenge his order if he thinks there's a better/more efficient way, because there's a deep sense of trust and understanding between them.

i'm just gonna go ahead and blame pokéspe for this simp culture because what the fuck look how they massacred my boy in it. overall pokéspe used the execs to finish the d/p storyline which i'm endlessly mad and bitter about but won't get into bc it's not part of this but y'know.

and like yeah. i know. this is a pretty insignificant character in a large scale so many people just don't take it as dead serious as i do in my deranged mind space. for most people it's just funnies. i understand. good for them. but i'm still gonna be salty about it.

fanons have a funny way of reducing a character's entire personality to one line of dialogue or one personality trait and giving them nothing else. in comparison to proton (who i fucking adore and you know it it ain't about that and proton's popular fanon takes have a TON of issues too that i could yell about for hours, but this is just for an example) archer often gets the 'prissy stick in the mud uwu pathetic simp wet dog boy' treatment while proton gets the 'cool sexy badass murder man' one. there's a funny divide between the english and japanese fanons in this because japanese fanons often get it better. if i sound like a gatekeeper with this character it's because i am (i'm joking i do like different takes on him but not the 'simp and NOTHING else' stuff it makes me explode).