#that i would be mourning the loss for so long
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🌙 Moon Phases 🌙
Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1652
Chapter 38:
"Time to finish The Road. We are one trial closer to the big score!" She exclaimed and started to lead, making you all follow her down the path.
"Earth magic with no Green Witch." Jen reminded Agatha, since Rio had gone to do her duty and left them behind.
"We're back to square one." Billy agreed.
Agatha rolled her eyes. "Oh, there's plenty of overlap between Earth and Potions, right, Jenny Kale?"
Jen bit back a sarcastic remark. "Some."
"Please. Your last name is a vegetable. Worst kind," Agatha said, reverting back to mean unnecessary comments. "Plus, we have Sugar over here. One extra set of hands. Oh, and don't look at her like that; she is more capable than you think, " she continued, focusing on you.
She even went as far as to slow down so you could catch up with her; only to pinch your cheeks in a playful manner.
At that moment, though, you clearly did not share her humour or her fake optimistic side. You grabbed her wrist and gently lowered her hand away from your cheeks.
"Ags," you called out her name, in a tone she knew too well.
You were catching up to her facade, and her fake smile disappeared. She did not like it when you were using that tone, expecting she would confess what was on her mind.
Sometimes Agatha did that, but right now, those things were the last thing she wanted to think of. And so, she continued on; not truly caring what kind of image she was giving to the others.
She knew in the end, you would never hate her or walk away; and Billy needed her to find his brother. So she had the two of you secured.
Now, if Jen chose to be upset and offended, she didn't care. She was just... Jen.
"I have to be honest," Agatha continued agter giving the small group a dramatic pause. "I'm surprised you survived this long, Kale. My money was on Lilia."
You chose to put your foot down at that moment. No matter how annoying Jen could and had proven to be, that did not mean she deserved to be attacked that way.
"Agatha, enough. This is not the time for comparisons or disrespecting the dead," you commented, making her stop in her tracks. "Show some respect cause we are only here because of Lilia's sacrifice."
Especially when she was still mourning, perhaps being the only member to truly care for Lilia's loss. Cause let's ve honest, Billy never truly came close or cared that much.
And you... well, you hadn't truly bonded with anyone cause you didn't want to. You knew they might die. They might turn on you on the road, and you were strictly there for Agatha.
One last chance to stand by her side for good this time and not let her slip through your fingers, unknown when and if she would return back to you.
But you had failed in that initial plan. All because you had started to warm up to a lost boy with hidden potential under the name of Billy Maximoff.
Agatha fought to keep that fake bitchy smirk and not react to your words. She expected you to comment once in a while, since you akwys did, but to go against her so strongly? So often?
She was not sure she liked that. Perhaps she had been away from you too much, and you had forgotten... forgotten the rules she had laid for you. Rules you had obediently followed.
She would have to change that when this would be all over. You had been astray from the path for too long, but she was not going to let you continue that way, especially with Rio so keen on entering your life and being part of it.
Agatha cleared her throat, controlling her thoughts. "Come on, Sugar. Cheer up!" She said, putting on a mask once again. "What fresh horrors await us! It's's the big finish, so close to us!"
She started to walk again, trying to keep her moon by being dramatic; talking of fireworks and spectacles and.... she tripped..
However, it was what she tripped on that surprised all of you.
"Our shoes." You exclaimed and moved to investigate, ensure your eyes were nor deceiving you.
Much to your surprise and even slight horror, those were your shoes. They were nicely tucked and placed where you all had removed and left them. When you had first started the Road.
It felt as if it had been too long since that took place, while it may as well been a few hours; perhaps a day.
Only then did you truly realize how time disoriented you all had been. How you had almost forgotten where you were and when you started, feeling so much longer than it truly was.
"We're back where we started." Jen realized but did not dare to approach the shoes any closer, as she was reminded of the witches that died before; whose shoes were the only reminders of them left.
"The Witches' Road is a circle. And this is the finish line?" Billy questioned, looking at you and Agatha; since you were the last and only ones to survive the road.
Or so you claimed.
Agatha had the strongest reaction to everything, clearly upset by the sight. She had been through so much in the past few trials, especially that damn spirit trial.
She had been humiliated, trickef, trialled, tired, and by the gods had her patience be tested.
"That's it?" She exclaimed, anger bubbling within her, mimicking a volacon about to erupt or a tsunami ready to sink a whole country with one hit. "That's it?!" She yelled, glaring at the sky at whatever entity our there might be watching and most likely mocking them.
"Well, maybe we passed the trial." Billy suggested, trying to be the optimist in the group and calm down Agatha from pulling her own hair or finding a way to set the whole place in flames.
Agatha turned her head to look at him, her face hard. "Then how exactly do we get off?" She asked rhetorically.
Of course, Billy didn't realize it and tried to anseer it. "Well, maybe we..." she didn't let him finish.
"If you don't know, then keep quiet."
Billy bit his tongue, feeling his own anger flaring up as once again he was treated with so much disrespect; it was ending up to become both annoying and tiring.
"We keep going." Agatha suddenly suggested.
"What?" Jen and Billy exclaimed while you stared at your lover, trying to make sure you heard her correctly.
"We go again. It'll work the second time." She explained, trying to sound certain, but everyone could see that she was not convincing enough.
"Ags, this won't work, and you know it," you said, trying to be the one and get her both to listen and calm down.
Your lover simply pushed her hair off her shoulder. "Of course it will. We have nothing to lose"
Before you could argue or reason with her, Jen interfered; though this time she had a very valid point.
"There is absolutely zero chance, I'm m going to endure that experience again." She said snd you silently agreed with her.
The trials have have exhausting and if by some twisted turn of fate you had to endure them again... you were not ready.
No matter the answers that might be the same, you could also not pass through that again; let alone so soon.
As the three witches argued, with Jen and Agatha being the loudest and you caught in the middle; Billy chose to act.
He was also tired from everything, and he wanted to just be done. He wanted to find Tommy, have his answers, and return to his civilian life. It might not be truly his, but it was a stable thing in his life that didn't consist of backstabbing, people dying, and lies being told so often they mixed with the truth.
"We took them off out of respect for The Road." He started as he stood in front of his shoes and grabbed one . "Screw The Road." And with those words, he put his shoe on.
Yet in that exact moment... he disappeared from sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sudden disappearance made the three of you gasp in surprise, none expecting it to happen. Worse was the fact that you didn't know where he went and if what he did was the right choice or the one leading him to his doom.
"So, what do we do know?" Jen dared to ask and look at you and Agatha.
You exchanged a look with your lover, first time sering this. You were unsure of what you should truly do, let alone what you might experience next.
Yet the more you remained in that annoying creepy lurking forest. The more you were reminded of your limited choices and the fact that you had come back to the beginning... the more certain you were of what to do.
Worse case scenario, you were kicked off the Road or killed. Both of those theories felt so much better within your hearts, than spending a minute longer on this hellish road.
"Time to wear our shoes," Agatha said and went first, disappearing as soon as she put her shoes on.
This left you and Jen to exchange a look, your fellow witch clearly not thrilled with the idea and not fully confident that this was the right choice.
She did not want to take any more risks. It was too stressful.
"Not much of a choice," you said, doing a not so good effort in sounding reassuring.
She watched you head for your shoes and put them on, the sight of her watching you the last thing you saw before your vision turned black.
Chapter 39
#agatha all along#agatha x reader#agatha harkness x reader#moon phases fanfic#agatha fanfic#marvel#kathryn hahn#aubrey plaza#agatha harkness#agatha spoilers#lesbian
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gameboy :: p.js — two
genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 14.963k
[one] [two]
18+ minors do not interact!
“Is that my cardigan?”
Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…
“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—”
As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut.
“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—”
“Jisung.”
“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”
“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?”
“I-”
“Were you?” You ask sternly.
He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips.
There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable:
“Show me.”
Jisung works his jaw to gather some spit to swallow, since his mouth has managed to run completely dry in record time. His breathing has picked up significantly too, at your words and the way they drip from your lips with silky lust, or venom—he can’t tell which yet, since he’s not entirely sure he heard you correctly in the first place. For all he knows, they may be one in the same, and that would make him quite the textbook masochist; to be so humiliated and simultaneously, so fucking flustered.
The reddening tint on his face pales suddenly as he realizes that he has yet to respond and the seconds continue to pass. With a shaking voice, he chokes out a single word: “...What?”
There is no beat, no single pause before you speak. Similarly, there’s no hesitation in your words that spill seamlessly from your smooth lips. “Show me how you get off using my cardigan,” you repeat loudly, clearly.
There isn’t an ounce of playfulness in your voice, much less in your stature, upright and commanding. Your expression is unreadable as you stand in front of him expectantly, holding out your cardigan with its new (and not so new) decorative additions for him to grab ahold of.
With a heavy gulp, Jisung lowers his head. “You already got me to admit it. You don’t have to embarrass me any more.”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” You explain, taking a few cautious steps forward until you’re but a foot away from him where he sits on the edge of his bed, “If you’re feeling embarrassed, that’s not because of anything I’ve done.”
He gulps again.
“I just wanna know what you did as you…” Your index finger finds the underside of his chin, tilting it up so that he’s forced to look at you, “...thought of me.”
Oh.
Oh.
For a brief moment, he can’t construct a response, only gawking at you speechlessly as he attempts to process whether or not you really mean the words that are coming out of your mouth and their twisted implications. Then, his length gives a twitch and he fully wishes the ground would swallow him whole because, how could he have so little shame?
“Ji…” you start, and his attention is fixed on you once more. The heat in his cheeks returns as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing all the strands back to allow you a clear view of his face. “It’s kinda pathetic, you know. Having me so close and still using my cardigan…”
His stomach churns, his dick leaks, and his hands grip the bed sheets as you use your index finger to push him back on his chest until he’s resting on his elbows against the mattress.
“If only you would’ve let me know sooner…maybe I could’ve helped you.”
“You can help me now,” the words are tumbling from his lips breathlessly, “please.” He isn’t above whimpering any more, or begging. You have him wrapped around your finger, you have for the last few months, and he’s pent up and desperate. There’s nothing he wants more than to have you sink down on his length at this very moment—and he can't believe how plausible that reality actually seems. Still, you have other plans.
“Tell me what you thought about, baby.”
He gulps, taking a leisurely glance over your body now that the situation allows, each and every thought his imagination previously concocted coming up to the tip of his tongue where it sits idly, unable to be uttered. He’s so embarrassed, so turned on, so conflicted.
You give him an encouraging nod, casting your eyes down to his lap where his length strains against the fabric.
“Can I?”
Jisung nods eagerly, and you pop off the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper so slowly that the buzzing is the only sound either of you can hear for a second or two. The next sound that echoes around the small dorm room is a hiss from Jisung’s drooling lips, elicited when your hand brushes his hard on. He can tell your actions are nothing less than methodical when you reach for his hand. You place the black cardigan in his fist, then lay it over his lap.
Then, you spin around, bringing his desk chair over and taking a seat expectantly.
When he still doesn’t respond, horny and frozen in shock, you smirk.
“Need me to walk you through it?”
Oh, God. He could come undone just from that thought alone.
“Please.” He squeaks out.
“Take off your pants, Ji.” You instruct, leaning forward to rake your nails along his thighs, “I want you to tease yourself as you tell me what you thought about.”
”Fuck, I—” he glances at your hands that rest just inches away from his length, “I wanted you—I want you so bad.”
You scoff. “Not very obedient, are you?”
“Sorry—“ he clears his throat, hoping that of all times, his voice doesn’t betray him now. Following your directions, Jisung hurriedly slides his joggers down so that they’re resting at his knees, before speaking up, “I thought about you, what you looked like. Thought about your body in some pretty little outfit like the one you’re in now.”
“You thought about me wearing clothes?”
”I thought about you taking each piece off, one by one. Just for me,” he adds.
Perhaps, it’s a reward for his compliance, or maybe it’s a punishment; regardless, you lean back, sliding the shirt he had lent you off so that you’re sitting before him in nothing but a lacy black piece.
If he thought your breasts were spilling from your top at the party, it’s nothing compared to the way they sit in your bra, constrained by the lace and begging to be held in his greedy palms.
You hum for him to continue, and he has to remind himself he isn’t dreaming. Subconsciously, his hand has begun to squeeze his cock over his boxers and you don’t miss the way the action makes his lips part.
”I pictured you touching me, like it was your hand instead of mine.” As he mumbles this, he slides his left hand into his underwear and gives himself a generous pump, then another, a shuddering breath making his chest heave.
“Like this?”
Jisung freezes as you reach in to chase his hand, grabbing a hold of his length for yourself. Instantly, he throws himself back onto the mattress, covering his face with his palms as he moans.
“Nuh-uh, baby,” you scold him, “You have to look, otherwise you’re defeating the purpose.”
“Feels so good,”
“I know,” you coo, letting your thumb swipe along his slit. The prettiest sounds leave his lips in the form of whimpers and whines, and he forces his eyes open to watch how you pull him out from his boxers.
“Can you tell me what I did next?”
”You—fuck,” Despite his best efforts, his voice cracks, “you used your mouth.”
“My mouth, huh?” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Some more precum leaks, coating your pouty lips, and Jisung thinks he may have actually died and gone to heaven.
It takes everything in him to keep his head up, especially when you wrap your mouth around him. Your nails dig crescent moons onto his bare thigh and Jisung croaks out a throaty groan as he feels himself poke the back of your throat. There’s a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth, and he brings his thumb forward to swipe it away. With the salty taste of him
on your tongue, you blink at him appreciatively, coming up for air with a gasp.
His dick is so red and swollen that you can’t help the praise that leaves your lips. “So pretty,”
“You should see my view.”
His reciprocation only makes you more eager, and you kiss him again. Teasing him is creating a mess between your legs and the only relief is the way the friction feels when you roll your hips against his desk chair.
You hum contentedly, tongue poking out to kitten lick his flushed head. He shudders and rolls his head back for the nth time, gripping his sheets.
“Shit, you’re driving me crazy,”
You bat your lashes at him, taking him into the warmth of your mouth again. You hollow your cheeks to suck on his head, eyes fixed on his and watching for a reaction—and boy, does he give you one. His jaw goes slack, brows dipping down to hover over his half-lidded, glossed over eyes. As his thighs tremble, he watches you intently, wary of your every move you make and anticipating your next one. The sensation of your wet tongue, and the inside of your cheek, and your tightening throat that swallows around him—it’s almost all too much, and it has him using absolutely all of his self control to keep from bucking up. He wants to enjoy this, to soak this in; he needs to.
But his balls already feel so heavy and tight, and when you moan around him, he feels the vibrations in the form of tingles at the end of his spine. He can barely get a warning out quick enough before he’s releasing a load down your throat.
“Oh, fuck—I’m coming—“
You lift your head off of him with a pop, but not without sticking your tongue out to catch the spurts of white cum that dribble and shoot from his spent cock. A string of strained purrs and whimpers fall from Jisung’s ‘o’ shaped lips as he sees this, right before his vision whites out and his nerve ends go numb. His arms fall limply at his sides as the waves of pleasure drag on and through him, till he’s emptied every last drop into your waiting mouth.
You can tell from the way he’s shaking that he’s starting to become sensitive, but your hands don’t stop stroking him, nor do they let up on their pace—not until he takes them into his own and grips them over his abdomen, chest red and heaving.
His ears are ringing by the time he comes down, the only feeling being your lips that kiss at his thigh and the thumb that swipes along his knuckles. He blinks down at you in awe and mentally professes his love and devotion to you, courtesy of the insane head, though on second thought, he realizes it might just be a side effect of post-nut-stupidity.
“You’re too fucking good at that.” He lets out breathlessly, wiping some sweat from his chest.
“Thank you,” you laugh. The moment you retract your hand from his hold to swipe at the cum and drool that sticks to your chin, Jisung shoots up, cheeks reddening again at the mess he’s left on your face.
“Shit, sorry. Here.” Somewhat awkwardly, he shimmies his joggers back on after tucking himself into his boxers with a wince, then runs to the other side of his room where he gets you a pack of wipes, some tissues, and a fun sized water bottle from his mini fridge.
“Are you hungry? I’ll make you some instant noodles or—“
“I’m fine, Ji.”
“Ji? What happened to Sung?”
You ponder for a moment, then give him a little smile as you wipe away the mess of fluids on your face.
“Ji suits you more.” You decide, “I called you Sung before I knew you, like, really knew you. And now that I do, I think Ji is more fitting.”
He’s lost count of how many times he’s gone red in your presence, but he can’t help it. Not after the way the night unraveled, and certainly not when your cheek presses into his shoulder. You’re still not wearing a shirt, and the night’s makeup has started melting off around your cheeks and lips, but for whatever reason, you’ve never looked better. He’s glancing down at you warmly, lost in thought as he tries to decide which feature of yours is his favorite.
It’s a pointless battle, and a decision he gives up on quickly, because there’s no way he’d manage to decide on an answer. Your eyes that looked up at him from between his legs just moments ago are filled with the most extravagant mix of light and mischief, and every time they meet his, he thinks he could float away. Your lips are velvet, he can confirm since he’s felt them now, albeit not on his own. Nonetheless, they’re pillowy and soft and wonderous, and he can’t wait for the moment he gets to taste them.
As he watches you rub your legs together, he’s confronted by a mix of emotions: Firstly, he feels relief, because this could only mean you were worked up, and more importantly, because of him. Then, he’s instantly grieving the fact that he hadn’t asked to return the favor, and now you were needy and helpless. But no matter, because he clears his throat, mustering up a bit of boldness from the alcohol that still swirls through his system.
“Let me eat you out.”
“What?”
”Let me eat you out, please.” he tries again, and instantly grimaces at the poor attempt at rephrasing.
This is why you’re bitchless, Jisung.
You don’t seem to mind, though, letting out a light laugh as you straighten up beside him. “You don’t have to,” you whisper shyly, but you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you.
“I want to!” He corrects quickly, and you flash him a sweet smile.
“Not today,” You can practically see the way he deflates, so you quickly explain,“I’m on my period.”
“Oh.”
“But that just means you owe me next time, right?” His eyes instantly light up at your proposition, and you can practically see the way his pupils dilate.
Oh.
“There’s gonna be a next time?”
You feign offense, “You’re already going back on your offer?”
“No!” he answers quicker than he means to, clearing his throat, “I mean, no. Definitely not. Like, really. I can’t wait. I mean I can wait, but—”
He can’t even process the moment your lips press against his because just as quickly, they’re no longer there. A peck, and then you’re mumbling “good” against his mouth and going in for seconds as his brain starts buzzing.
He acknowledges that this gesture was to shut him up, but he doesn’t care. His mind is numbed by your taste and the way your tongue glides against his teeth. If this is how you intended on getting him to be quiet, he’d never stop running his mouth. It doesn’t help that he can taste himself; that thought on its own is almost enough to give him a semi.
You pull away with a small smack between your lips and instantly, Jisung feels himself melt, leaning into your hand that comes up to caress his cheek and mess with the ends of his hair at the side of his head.
“I should head out.” You sigh, and he thinks he’s never been so disappointed after hearing just four words.
“It’s cold out.” He protests, trying not to sound too whiny.
“Am I supposed to stay here?” He knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he still has to bite back the urge to ask you to do just that. “You can just lend me a jacket. I mean, that would make us even, right?”
When you pick up the end of your cardigan as a notion, Jisung grimaces, but decides that ultimately, if it wasn’t for this cardigan, he might’ve never ended up where he is now: with your hand in his hair and the taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue.
“You want me to walk you home?”
“Please.”
And so he does, with his jacket wrapped tightly around you. He drops you off in front of your door, with an endearing wave of his hand and the plan to see you again after class on Monday set in motion.
��.¸¸☆*・゚
“This is convenient.”
“What is?” he perks up, watching as you sit criss-crossed on his bed, a stack of astronomy books piled up on your lap. You don’t look up, but gesture around.
“We can just study at yours,” you say as if it’s obvious, “we don’t have to worry about booking a lab.”
Jisung hums in agreement, gleeful at the idea that you intend to spend more and more time with him, and even more importantly, in his room.
Here, where he can only remember the way your mouth felt around him, and the countless times he’s pleasured himself to the thought of you. Here where you lay, on his bed, in a skirt that’s definitely too short for the harsh winter season, which could only mean you wore it for him. Here, where if he leans back, he can catch a glimpse of the cotton, light blue panties you’re wearing under the hem of polyester.
After he returned from walking you home, Jisung collapsed into his bed, overjoyed and buzzing with energy, and so grateful there was no class the next day—Since he was not sure he’d be able to work himself out of bed with his mind still in a haze. By the time he managed to stop kicking his feet and replaying the night in his mind, the clock had striked six and the sun was beginning to peek over the hilltops.
He can’t stop thinking about what the two of you had agreed on doing the next time you hung out, especially not when your pretty legs are bare and exposed.
It’s a shame they’re not wrapped around his head.
Nonetheless, he remains hesitant to make a move because: what if you had forgotten? Or perhaps, it was the alcohol talking that night and you really didn’t intend to do anything else with him—a totally plausible reality, as much as he hates to admit it.
Although he had gotten the go-ahead with you, and his dick is already growing at the thought of how your cunt would taste, his crippling fear of rejection still managed to choke him. A single, suggestive brush of his hand against you could make you uncomfortable, since the line between sexual and friendly intentions is so blurred, and that terrifies him.
Very quickly, however, he realizes that’s not the case.
“What do the books say about Castor and Pollux?”
“Well,” you start, “for starters, it’s more detailed than all the stuff we’ve found online.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like, for example,” your leg unfolds from its position tucked away under you, and stretches out to rub along Jisung’s thigh. That’s how it starts.
“In the book it goes into a lot more detail about the battle which inevitably leads to Castor’s death.”
He can barely register what you’re saying, because with each word, your foot, adorned by your tantalizing knee-high socks, is rubbing shamelessly over his bulge. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his jaw goes slack, his gaze tracking every move you make over his lap. In fact, the only time he glances up at all, is when you lay back against his pillows and prop your legs apart, granting him a clear view of your panties that now showcase a wet mark.
Jisung sucks in a breath, “Y/n, I think we should take a break–“
“Did you know that Pollux gave up half of his immortality so that Castor could live?”
To put it bluntly, Jisung really couldn’t fucking care less.
“Mhm?” He hums, except it’s practically a moan, because now your legs are fully spread, and your leg is restless, rubbing against him with no remorse. He’s fully hard, so hard that it’s beginning to hurt, but he feels stuck in place.
“Fuck, we need to stop, I can’t focus if—“
“We should add some of this stuff to the presentation.”
You’re playing some kind of game, and he’s happy to take the bait. Your eyes that hover over the top of the book flicker up to his for a split second, glossed over and sultry, revealing just how needy you actually are.
And so, he breaks.
Your leg is flung off his lap as he leans forward, settling his shoulders between your knees and attaching his lips to the plush of your thigh. Wet kisses make a path toward your core before he turns to give some attention to your other leg. It’s indescribable, how soft your skin is under his puckering mouth and how riveting the view of you is from this angle.
You’ve moved the book a bit to the side, giving him full visibility so he can watch the way your eyes roll back for a split second when his big hands push your skirt out of the way, the material bunching up at the small of your waist.
Despite the fact that you’re clutching the pages of the book so tightly that your hands are turning white, you maintain your composure. “When Castor was revived, Zeus turned them into the constellation. Then–“
He tunes you out, squeezing your skin like a stress ball as a newfound determination manifests. You’re only acting unphased—the growing wet patch on your covered folds giving you away—and he’s dead set on breaking your facade.
As bad as he wants to taste you, he won’t; not yet. Not until you’re writhing and shaking and desperate to be touched.
He keeps working his kisses up to your center, then pulling away, alternating between using his teeth to nibble and tug at the more giving parts of your skin, and licking at the firm areas, like your hip bones and below your navel.
Him nuzzling his nose into you tickles, especially since you can feel his breaths as they grow more uneven. Your view isn’t so bad either; you can make out the way his hips rut into the mattress and his hair flops as he moves to kiss across your skin. You only dare to steal a glance when you know he’s not looking; otherwise, you’re reading off the page in the steadiest voice you can muster, though your patience is slowly withering.
When he finally gives any attention to your core, it’s over the panties, nose digging into your clit and breathing you in. His next breath is full of you, and all he can feel is your thighs as they slightly tighten around his head.
The slight friction is ruinous, and it almost manages to make you stammer over your words, but Jisung interrupts you with a groan and misses the way you stifle a whine.
“Put that book down so I can make you come on my face, baby.”
“Y-you’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be studying–“ you argue, but the book is already hanging loose in your hands, moments away from being discarded to meet the rest of the pile. Jisung catches this, and he doesn’t entertain your resistance any longer. You’re about to snap, he can feel it—he can practically taste it.
And so, his tongue pokes out to lick a long stripe from your entrance, up to your clit. His pace is menacingly slow, he still hasn’t moved your panties aside, but somehow, the action rips a moan from your throat and causes your hips to buck.
Humming in satisfaction, he does it again, and the small whimper you let out the second time around almost makes him bust in his pants.
“Ji..”
With his arms hooked under your thighs and his palms situated over your abdomen, he hums in acknowledgement of his nickname and presses his face further into you. Your heels dig into his shoulders to tug him closer, but he tuts, flickering his narrowed eyes up to you.
“Is something wrong?” His tone is teasing and cheeky, and you take your lip between your teeth.
“No–I just,” you huff out, reddening cheeks filling with air, “please–“
“Please?” The single syllable is dragged out, encouraging you to elaborate, but all you can manage is another helpless moan.
“Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, angel.”
“I–please, I need your mouth or–or your fingers. whichever,” you pant, “fuck, Jisung, I don’t care–just touch me—“
You don’t have time to finish your babbled plea before he hooks a finger on the material of your panties and pushes them aside. His tongue darts out to lick your clit, and he instantly, both you and Jisung moan in fervor. When he dips the muscle into your entrance, your essence coats his taste buds, and he decides then and there that he’s never tasted anything better.
He’s also never seen anything better than the sight of you arching your back and digging your hips down to push your aching folds closer to his mouth. And it works, because he gets a mouthful of you and he begins to suck on your bud contentedly.
Forget reading about the constellations, you were practically seeing them.
They swirled over your eyelids when you closed them and swam around the room when you managed to peek them open for a glimpse of the boy laying between your legs. Any time his eyes flicker up to yours, the pleasure peaks, and you have to clasp a hand over your mouth to contain yourself.
He hopes you can’t tell that he’s never done this before; by the looks of it, you have no idea. Your moans are growing louder by the second, with every swipe of his tongue against your slit, and your fingers have long forgotten the book you were clutching earlier. Now, they tug on Jisung’s hair, scratching at his scalp affectionately and pulling on the locks at the root anytime he does anything a tad too well.
He laps you up again and again, replicating everything he had ever seen work in porn videos, until your toes are curling and you seem to be running out of air. Broken cries fall from your parted lips, with an occasional call of his name that has him rutting into the bed at a pace that almost provides as much friction as he desperately needs.
“So pretty like this,” he manages to sputter into your core, and you instantly shiver, pressing him closer to you with your heels—if that’s even possible.
You breathe out a series of phrases, all incomplete and taking after a whine more than anything else: “I’m gonna–“ and “Feels good–“ and “Keep going–“.
No part of your brain is composed enough to form an actual sentence while Jisung’s tongue buries itself into your hole, but he seems to get the memo. He devours you like he’s famished, and when his hands reach up to grab ahold of your breasts, your efforts to contain your moans become obsolete.
Your orgasm crashes into you as he returns his attention to your clit. His fingers busy themselves pinching one of your nipples and his deep hums vibrate at your core, and you find your vision going dark until there’s no choice left but to squeeze your eyes tight and reconcile with the ecstasy that has no means of stopping. For a second, your legs begin to shake, but as the feeling of coming from his swirling tongue becomes overwhelming, they fall limp, held up only by Jisung’s shoulders.
And he doesn’t stop, until he’s completely sure that you’ve taken everything and have started to come down. His face is flushed red from the effort and a bit of sweat shines like gloss on his forehead, when you’re finally able to open your eyes and take him in.
Secretly, he’s both surprised and proud of himself that he’s managed to make you come—for some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he might be under this pressure—mostly put on him by him. If he couldn’t manage to give you an orgasm, he’s not sure how he would have faced you again.
“Holy shit.” Your voice is thinned out and dreamy, and you don’t hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him up to you for a kiss. He moans into your mouth, slick covered lips disappearing between yours as you make out with him.
“Damn,” You mumble as you break apart, “You eat out all your friends like that?”
His eyes that were shut dreamily flutter open at once, and his brows pinch in slight confusion that he refuses to address for the moment.
Technically, you aren’t wrong.
Technically, the two of you are friends.
But that title is the very last one he expected to and wanted to hear right about now.
He can’t spare it another thought, because just quickly as the words leave your mouth, he’s lost again in your kiss. The feeling of your soft lips is so invigorating that it makes him salivate, and as he situates himself properly between your thighs. A few brushes of your wet cunt against his bulge and he’s releasing into his boxers with a groan, emptying himself as you continue to taste his spit and your release on his tongue, hips grinding down to stimulate him further.
He comes hard, considering the compromising position he’s in, but just the idea of his member being so close to your pussy, especially after he’s tasted it, is enough to tip the scale.
“Mmph..”
“Feel good?”
“So good,” he nods, rutting until every last drop has been expelled and his tip is too sensitive to touch. Then, he collapses into your arms that wrap around him, palms smoothing through his hair and down his spine.
“Gimme a kiss,” You plead softly, and he looks up at you, peeking through the strands of hair that cover his eyes until your fingers move them away. He happily puckers his lips to place a gentle peck on yours. He’s almost smiling into it, until then and there, in the back of his mind, he thinks back to your choice of words. Do friends kiss like this? He supposes they do, in a talking stage of sorts. When the lines between friendship and more have been blurred, as they have here, and some sort of romance is blossoming, friends can kiss.
Typically, though, that blur is discussed and some boundary is set. Considering his dick has been in your mouth and he just gave you head until you and him both came from the effort, he figures some of those rules don’t necessarily apply here.
He decides he’d rather not overthink. It got him nowhere when he wanted to come up to you before, and now that he has you, he’s sure it won’t help him here, either.
So instead, he melts into your touch and relishes you until the moment you pull away and remind him of the half-written notes on his laptop that lie discarded since long ago. This gets him to regain focus for the rest of the night, and the two of you manage to get a decent amount of work done without ripping off each other’s clothes. He’s only slightly regretful of that, but the soft look of content on your face is enough.
•.¸¸☆*・゚
The project had gone off without a hitch. It seemed that the trick to being productive when it came to you two, was releasing some pent up sexual tension; then, your buzzing neurons would reward your efforts and get to work—like the time you met up at the library, just three days later.
Barely fifteen minutes of little-to-no productivity had passed before you found yourself bored and pressing your thighs together to give your slick-covered pussy any bit of relief. And Jisung, hyper aware of you as always, noticed. It took one lustful glance from him and you were crawling onto his lap, leaning into his side, and nibbling softly on the lobe of his ear until his dick was so hard it almost hurt. His hands flew to your hips, pinning you down until your cunt was rubbing against him. He had barely half a mind to keep you quiet, because the computer labs had no lock on the doors. With his hand clasped over your mouth, you rolled yourself against him until both of you came in your clothes, eyes rolling back and chests heaving with exasperation. That day, you wrote over three thousand words on the constellation—talk about post-nut-clarity.
The powerpoint that came hand in hand with the essay was an idea that came to be at your apartment. He found out Karina was your roommate during his visit, and she had invited Heesung over so they could work on their assignment, too. It wasn’t long before Jisung noticed your dissipating patience, and the overwhelming relief on your face when the two of them announced they would go grab coffee as a pick me up. You pulled him into a kiss almost instantly, discarding your notes and forgetting about the due date that was closing in.
All that mattered in that moment was being close enough to Jisung to breathe him in, and who was he to complain? He wanted nothing more than that sweet bliss—sharing your air, tasting your spit, squeezing your skin, making you come.
He was only denied the last of the four today, because as his tongue sunk into your hole and lapped you up, the door clicked and both of you rushed to straighten out your appearances. Karina and Heesung didn’t seem to suspect anything, only mildly reminded the two of you were in the room after finishing their own sweet interaction.
Karina gasped when the coffee she sipped burned her lip, and Heesung popped off the plastic cap of the cup, blowing the steam away at once and scolding her for not being careful. The scolding was more endearing than anything, and Jisung found himself being jealous at the way Karina’s pupils practically became hearts, gawking at Heesung as he cooled down her drink before returning it and giving her a kiss on the forehead. It became clear as he watched them that you had never really looked at him that way, though he tried not to think too hard about it or the stinging in his heart would get worse.
That’s when he suggests the powerpoint, which both of you finished that very same night. As a reward for his ingenious contributions, you dragged him out into the hallway to “say goodbye” later that evening and palmed him until he ruined his third pair of underpants this week.
Professor Hwang seemed to be more than pleased with your finished product, because when she spontaneously announced the scores for the project would be curved, the two of you got the highest marks in the class—and this called for celebration.
You had to attend your Literature class, but promised to come by his place later, which left Jisung just enough time to do the absolute bare minimum: clean his room, take a shower, make a playlist.
After his shower, the boy spent the better part of an hour obsessing over which cologne to put on, or if any of the three he owned were even pleasant enough for you, at which point, Mark knocked on his door with complaints about how the bathroom on his side of the hall got flooded.
“What do you want me to do about that?”
“You’re an RA, no?”
“Yeah, but like, RA’s don’t fix toilets, you know?” Jisung shrugs.
“Dude–then, at least let me use your bathroom—”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll call—“
“Hey!”
Your sweet voice calls out from the end of the hall, making both Jisung’s and Mark’s heads turn your way. You look ravishing today, a huge grin plastered on your face and the newest book you’d be analyzing in your Lit class clutched in your arm. Your hands hold two coffee cups, and you stride down the hall to meet the two boys where they stand.
Quickly, you place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, direct and short but very bright “hello!” at Mark, then step inside his room with a decisive and upbeat pep on your step. Jisung knows why, of course, but as he turns back to Mark’s dumbfounded, and quite shocked expression, the smile on his lips instantly falls.
“Was that–“
In less than a second, Jisung closes the door to his room and grabs the boy beside him, dragging him down the hall and out of earshot from you as he turns back to glance suspiciously at the wall you stand behind.
Jisung gulps, holding him still, “Mark–“ he knows what’s coming, but even then, he can’t mask the dread on his face.
“It was, wasn’t it? Jaehyun’s ex?” Mark’s eyes are so large, they look like they might roll out of his head.
“Yes, but–“
“Are you crazy?”
“Keep your voice down!” Jisung scolds, but Mark just lands a hit on his shoulder, disbelief written over his features.
“What the hell are you doing with Jaehyun’s ex? You realize he’ll kill you if he finds out, right?”
With a nervous reluctance to his tone, Jisung begrudgingly sighs out, “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, cause you and I kiss all the time when we say hello.”
“Okay, we’re a little bit more than friends, but–why does it matter?”
“It matters because you don’t mess with your friend’s ex, dude..” At this, Jisung’s lips press tightly together. He can’t think of anything to say or argue in an attempt to defend himself, so Mark continues, “If it was Chaewon? Man, I don’t think I could even look at you again.”
“He won’t find out.”
“Dude, not the point!”
“I know, I know. I’m just–“ I’m in love with her “–nevermind. you don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t.” He echoes, “Figure it out before Jaehyun puts the pieces together.”
“You don’t think there’s even a slight chance he’ll understand?”
“If i’m being honest with you man…” He pauses, and the hope in Jisung’s eyes dwindles as Mark casts his own eyes away and sighs. “No. I don’t.”
Mark gives him one last look before striding past him and to the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Jisung drags his feet back to his room, only slightly mulling over Mark’s words and the likelihood of their truth—but the guilt dissipates the moment his hand twists the doorknob and his eyes land on you. You’re sitting on his bed, evidently anticipating his return because you aren’t on your phone, or with your nose in your book.
You’re sitting up, hair tucked behind your ear, eyes wide and looking his way as he closes the door behind him and moves closer.
Perhaps, it’s the overwhelming lust or like or even love that he feels every time he looks at you—or maybe it’s a bit of his frustration from the devastating inconvenience of your affiliation with Jaehyun, he’s not sure—but he finds himself taking long strides to close the space between you and him.
“I got you coffee–“
You don’t manage to finish your sentence before his lips are on yours, swallowing down the surprised whimper you let out before reciprocating his affection. In less than a second, he’s crawled onto the bed with you, hands holding you wherever they can.
Your thighs grow sticky almost instantly as he draws moan after moan from you, rushing to peel off every last article of clothing that obstructs him from feeling your warm skin. It’s not long before you become as ravenous as him, only breaking your kiss to pull your shirts over your heads or readjust so he can crawl between your legs as you lay back.
When he finally has expended every last bit of oxygen in his lungs, he moves back to take you in, finding that, for the first time, you’re fully naked before him—and god, are you a sight for sore eyes.
He can see your chest heaving, the action slightly bouncing your curved breasts that sit prettily, spread from laying on your back. Your nipples are eager and perked up, inviting his tongue to run over them, which he takes a mental note to do in just a second. Your smooth stomach, tightened in anticipation, leads down to your messy wet folds, and your thighs, soft under his big hands, tremble as you grow shy and unsure under his gaze.
“Ji? W-what’s wrong?”
“Literally, and I mean this with every fiber in my being, baby—nothing is wrong. You are so,” he leans down to kiss you softly, completely unlike the kisses you shared earlier, “so,” he travels down your chest, “so beautiful.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, baby. God,” he huffs, “I need you so fucking bad.”
“So have me then.”
His movements stutter for a moment, and he snaps his head up to look at you. “You mean?”
“Yes.” You nod, “Please.”
When your fingertips dip into his boxers, he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs out dreamily, allowing you to pull his fully hardened length out.
“I want you so bad, Ji… Need to feel you inside of me.”
Your words send shivers down his spine so intense that he practically shudders, and he knows for a fact you can feel his dick twitching incessantly your palm.
Jisung clears his throat, leaving back to look into your eyes.
“Let me eat you out first, yeah?”
“It’s fine, I just-“
“Please,” he basically whimpers, “I love tasting you so much,”
“Fuck.”
Your legs spread expectantly for him, but he takes his time, stopping at your lips again as if he can never feel them enough. Then, he makes his way down, licking and nibbling, pausing to lap at your nipples as he so desperately wanted to do earlier.
“Jisung, holy shit–“
“So pretty, so good for me always.”
“Baby–“ you gasp out as his lips come off your tit with a pop, and in an effort to quiet yourself down a bit, you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and muffling your cries of pleasure. At this, he has to peel your moving hand off his cock at the risk of coming into it.
He can feel how the layer of sweat coating bus skin, and he can feel the way it’s sticking to yours, slick and wet.
“Your pussy is so perfect,” he purrs, lodging his shoulders under your thighs and settling down between your legs where he belongs.
He dives right in, molding his mouth over you in a way that has you arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. He can feel your cunt pulsing under his tongue, all wet and gushing with your arousal. It’s dizzying, your taste, your smell, you, all of it has his mind spinning and him melting further into you.
You can hear the sounds of him devouring you, as well as the noises he’s muttering into you, indiscernible strings of praises that have you on the brink of undoing.
The moment his tongue slips in you, you pull his fingers from your mouth, reaching your own towards his hair. “How are you so good at that? Please, Ji, I’m so close–“
“Please,,” he echoes desperately, “come for me.”
That, and his finger slipping into you has you grinding down onto his tongue and hands, dissolving into your orgasm that he so willingly paints out for you, using every little tactic he’s noticed you like so far, like curving his finger to hit your sweet spot, or sucking on your clit until you’ve got tears prickling at your eyes.
You come on his face, writing and shaking and gripping his locks for dear life as bliss bubbles through your nerves. You’re soaked and breathless by the time he lets up.
“So good,” he reminds you, making his way back up to your lips so you can find out for yourself just how intoxicating you are.
Your hands reach for his hips and tug him closer, and the two of you yelp into the kiss as his length brushes your still sensitive folds. Jisung can no longer think straight, especially with the way your glossy eyes blink up at him sweetly. The realization of what’s to come dawns on him at once. He doesn’t intend to tell you you’re his first, because that’s pathetic and embarrassing, but nonetheless, he can’t hide the nerves.
“Are you sure you still want to… you know? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. We can do something else, yeah? I’ll just take care of myself really quick in the bathroom and we’ll–“
“Ji, baby.” he gawks at you. You smile and brush a few hairs back from his eyes, not even minding when your hand brushes against his slightly sweaty hairline. “Who’s the talkative one now?” His cheeks glow at your attempt to lighten the mood, and you kiss them generously.
“I’m so sure I want this,” you start, “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”
And that makes his heart beat so fast and swell up so much inside his chest, he thinks it may just burst from within his ribs and land right in your hands where it belongs.
His head bobs in a soft nod, and he swallows down the spit in his drying mouth. Between your bodies, one of his hands spreads your legs a bit while the other guides him towards your slick. He rubs his head between you, lathering his dick up in your cum, eyes never leaving yours in fear of missing the way your jaw goes slack at the sensation.
“Okay,” he nods again, “Then I’m all yours.”
“Good.” You whisper back.
“Let me know if you need me to stop, yeah?”
Unlike some of his friends, Jisung has never been addicted to porn—addicted to masturbating? Maybe, but that was partly due to his addiction to you. For the first time ever, he realizes how useful a porn addiction might have been right about now, even if it did build unrealistic expectations. Simply because then, he’d know what to do in this situation. The expectation part doesn’t concern him, you’ve already surpassed all of his anyway; the only thing eating him up is whether or not he’ll be able to please you.
For his own sake, he gulps down his nerves and focuses on the pretty girl lying before him, with watering eyes and drooling lips who’s shaking in anticipation each time his head teases her entrance. He’s twitching in his own hand, clumsily bumping into your clit, but you seem to like that, reaching for and squeezing his arms with every accidental brushing.
And finally, when he sinks into your sopping walls, it’s like a breath of fresh air.
Your hands slither around his shoulders, willing him closer until the two of you are chest to chest, and his hips push in far enough to bottom out within you.
“Oh, my god..” The words leave you in a whisper, cock stuffing you full and balls pressing against your ass. The stretch is notable, though not painful, and given that you already came once today, you can’t help the way you clench down on him, making him hiss.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” you nod, leaning up for a kiss.
Slowly, he starts rocking his hips, reminding himself to slide almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in. That’s what he’s supposed to do, or so he thinks. Your moans start as little hiccups, soft and airy, but as his rhythm continues, they get louder and whinier, and so he matches their pace and enthusiasm, speeding up in tandem.
After leaving a wet kiss on your neck, Jisung sits up and looks down at where the two of you meet, pushing your knees up until they’re together on your chest. Every time he glances up at you through his brows, you squeeze him instinctively, and the new position just amplifies the pleasure for both of you.
Each graze of his fingers on your face or boob or arm, the weight of his hands keeping your thighs still, it’s all so satisfying that you feel your inevitable orgasm well on its way. It only takes a few more seconds of him fucking your soft, warm walls, before his fingers find your clit and start rubbing it. Instantly, your head is thrown back and you’re calling out for him in pleasure.
As you come again, Jisung has a moment to take you in.
You’ve infiltrated all of his senses: he can see you, hazed and fucked out and staring back at him with an infatuated look—the same one he saw on Karina’s face when she looked at Heeseung, and the very one he’s been longing to see on you. He can smell sex in the air—taste you still on his tongue from when it was in you just moments ago. He can hear your loud moans and pleas, every syllable of his name as it slips from your lips. And finally, finally he can feel you, stretching out around him and sucking him in deeper still with every thrust. You’re gushing so much that your thighs and his are covered, and his sheets have grown darker in the spot below where you’re connected.
“Ji, please–“
“Please what, baby? Just tell me and it’s yours.”
“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.”
He wouldn’t dream of it.
Each drag of his cock through you solicits a new wave of pleasure, and you’re coming so hard that you’ve gotta grip his arms to keep from floating. Your nails dig into his skin and Jisung moans, pounding into you faster and keeping his fingers at work until he’s sure you’ve begun to come down. Only then does he slow with you, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.
“Good?”
Through tear-brimmed eyes, you blink up at him, feeling drunk. “ So good.”
He hums into your mouth when your tongue finds his, fingertips losing themselves in your hair.
“Mm, lay down,” you start, slurring, though he catches every syllable you utter with ease, “I wanna ride you.”
His eyes snap open to find you giggling at his reaction, and he doesn’t realize his mouth is hanging wide until your gentle palm reaches up to hold his chin and close it.
“Is that something you’d like?” your thumb tugs on his bottom lip, and he presses a kiss to it before answering quickly.
“God, yes.”
You laugh again, giving him a kiss for his endearing reaction. When he doesn’t budge, still slightly in shock, you prop yourself up on your elbows, pushing him back and guiding him to lay down where you were just a second ago.
The moment your plush thighs settle on either side of his, his hands go limp by his sides. It takes your patient ones to grab ahold of them and place them on your body, one by your waist, the other holding your boob. You keep your hand over his and squeeze, encouraging him to the same, and he does, letting his fingers swipe over and play with your pretty buds.
“You just dicked me down and suddenly, you’re nervous?” You hum, swirling your hips over his length.
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous around you.”
“Baby…” You coo, wiping some of the sweat from his cheeks, “You think I don’t get nervous around you? Every time I know I’m gonna see you… You should see how long it takes me to pick what to wear.”
“I mean, you look perfectly fine like this, too.”
“I’m sure you think so.”
Jisung starts to laugh, but it turns into a hiss as you sink yourself down on him. The feeling, he realizes rather quickly, is absolutely incomparable to anything he’s even felt or anything he might ever feel. He’s balls deep, completely hugged by your gummy, wet walls. Your skin pressing against his and your weight on his lap feels so, so right.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers, and you ready yourself to move but he stills you, “God, hold on. Please, just—“
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing—It’s just,” he pauses, looking anywhere but at your eyes. “I-If you move right now, I might...”
“Oh.” The skin on your cheeks goes hot. Part of you wants to teasingly roll your hips anyway, but the furrow in his brow tells you he’s not bluffing and he really will blow his load if you so much as clench. So, you give him a few seconds, leaning down to kiss his chest until he bucks up into you as a go-ahead to start moving.
“So good,” he repeats, and you moan back a similar phrase. Each time you take the entirety of his length, his tip kisses the smooth spot inside you and you can’t help but mewl into his neck, giving him back every babbled praise he manages to spew to you though his tightened voice. You start bouncing yourself on him, with your hands resting on his chest for balance, until you feel the pit in your stomach begin to turmoil again.
”I’m really close,” he warns you.
“Me too..”
“Shit, I have to pull out or I’m gonna-“
“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” You whisper, and his eyes widen, “I want you to come for me.”
He can barely mold his mouth to form the beginning of an “Are you sure?” before your walls squeeze him and he’s spilling himself inside of you. He lets out a guttural groan as he does so, clutching your hands in his as you milk him for all that he’s worth. The sounds you’re making are absolutely delectable and the grip your pussy as on him makes his ears start ringing so bad, he’s convinced he might pass out.
“Ji, I’m-“ his release triggers your third one of the night, just as you lose yourself in his arms and in the whimpers he’s releasing as he grows more sensitive. You can see his eyes through a sliver, finding them to be dazed and adoring and admiring all that is you.
So you grind against him until you’re both left sweaty and spent, holding on to each other until the pounding in your chests simmers down.
You naturally collapse on top of him, face near his neck with his hand petting the back of your head. For a few minutes, the two of you stay like this: breathing in each other’s scent and basking in the aftermath of what happened. Both of you are sticky with sweat and cum and spit, but neither seem to mind for the time being.
It’s only when your ringtone blasts through the room that either of you move to get up. With a heavy sigh, you pull yourself off of him and waddle over to your bag to find the disturbance.
“It’s Karina.” You announce, and Jisung lays back down with his arm tucked behind his head, admiring your naked body pacing around his room before you swipe to answer and tuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, reaching for his shirt to slip it on.
“Hey… Tonight? Oh, you mean like right now? Uh… Yeah, it should be fine.” You glance over at him to find him raising a brow, “Oh… Oh. Okay, I see. Yeah, no worries. Tell me about it after, yeah? Alright! Bye!” Your shorts are tugged on as you spin around to face him.
“Um…” You start, and Jisung sits up instantly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” The corner of the mattress dips as you take a seat, “Heesung is over.”
“Oh.”
“And he and Karina are gonna…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
He remembers the layout of your room, two beds in one open space. It’s a standard room, like Mark and Chenle’s or Jeno and Jaemin’s. The only reason he scored a solo dorm is because he’s an RA for the floor, a blessing at times like this, where he can confidently say:
“You can stay the night here.” When you don’t answer, he clears his throat. “You know, since they’re gonna…”
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course,” his hand reaches for yours, pulling you towards him. “We can watch a movie, or study…”
“Or…” you tease, “we can do something else…” The moment you climb on his lap, it clicks for him—what you mean. And when your lips find themselves on his neck, a shudder goes down his spine.
“Thank you, though.” You smile and he looks down at you and quirks a brow.
“For what?”
“For letting me stay over. You’re such a good friend.”
It’s instant—his stomach dropping before the last syllable leaves your mouth. His hands are on your shoulders to push you away and his stomach is tied into a dozen knots as he blinks, repeating what you’ve just said over and over in his mind. For a moment, he thinks his lunch is starting to come back up, too, and he’s sure he’s gone drastically pale.
You’re absolutely oblivious and confused as you meet his eyes. “What–”
“You don’t mean that.” He insists.
“Ji–”
“You can’t mean that. Right?” When you tilt your head, still lost, he purses his lips, and this time, his question comes out with much less assurance. “Right?”
The disorganized sheets are shoved off of him in an instant, and he’s up and tugging his sweats back on, spinning around as to not look at you for a second. His heart, which he holds his hand over, starts beating faster.
“Y/N. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I–You are a good friend. I do mean that. But–why– I’m so lost, Ji. What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”
‘Was it something I said?’
He hates this. He hates everything about this. The look on your face, the nerves in your voice, the way your hand is shakily reaching for him—there’s nothing he wants more than to forget how that word feels each and every time you utter it. He wishes he could brush it off, and crawl back under the sheets with you and mess around until the sun rises the next day.
But it stings, and it burns, and it fucking aches that you insist he’s nothing more than a friend, reminding him for the second time now that he can’t have you as his—and that’s the only way he intends to have you, for the sake of his poor heart that beats only for you.
He didn’t hallucinate. You looked at him the same way Karina looked at Heeseung that night; he saw it, there was something there.
He thinks back to what Mark said earlier. Friends don’t kiss—and they certainly don’t fuck the way you two just did. If he could just get you to admit that…
“Do you do that with all your “friends?””
“No, of course not!” You shake your head quickly, and he can see the offense flash across your features at his implication. Still, he insists.
“Then what are we?”
He sees you physically deflate, but he retains his composure. “Ji…”
“You’re telling me that after all that, and after everything we’ve done this semester–”
“Jisung–“
“–and after all the time we’ve known each other.. You don’t see me as anything more than a friend?”
“I…” That’s it. That’s the only word you manage to mutter, because your thoughts are tangled together and working against you to, for the first time since he’s known you, render you speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”
A pricking sensation in his eyes commands him to turn around, because simply put: he refuses to cry in front of you.
“I like you. A lot, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious.”
“I-I like you, too but—“
“But you still like Jaehyun?” Truthfully speaking, he doesn’t even know where that came from. But the words have already left him, and even though he can’t see your face, the fact that you’re hesitating tells him all he needs to know.
“It’s not like that,” you start after a pause, “It’s just—how do you even know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I-“ He takes a shaky breath, “Fuck.”
“Jisung…” You mumble cautiously, quietly, too nervous to approach him any more.
“I like you,” he repeats, “so, so bad.”
“I do, too.” You whisper. It’s no use, and you discover that quickly—the moment you see him tear his doubtful eyes away from you and towards the ground.
“Stay the night here. I’ll be down the hall.”
He grabs a random shirt from his drawer, since you’re occupying his, and puts it on as he makes his way towards the door.
“If you need anything,” he adds quietly, “just message me.”
He steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him as you call out his name, storming down the ugly carpet that looks uglier than usual today, until he’s reached Mark and Chenle’s.
He hesitates before knocking as he realizes the tears he’s been fighting to hold back really will start rolling any second. So he passes their door angrily and barges into the bathroom.
He’s careful not to step on the filthy water that covers most of the floor, verifying Mark’s claim that the bathroom had indeed flooded, and navigating the dry patches with his slides to get to the sink. He turns on the faucet and washes his hands, then cups them and brings a decent amount of water to splash some on his face. It washes away the stray tears that managed to escape, and he repeats the process over until his eyes are no longer bloodshot, but not without a few broken sobs escaping his parted lips.
Whether it’s hurt, frustration, or both, he doesn’t know, but before he knows it, he’s fully crying over you, until his throat is dry along with his eyes.
After a lazy once over in the mirror, no longer regarding his looks, he treads carefully back to the exit and toward his friends’ room.
He can hear them through the wall as he gets closer, tapping his knuckles on the wood. They sound like they’re watching the play-offs. He’s not sure, but anyway, he’s never cared about basketball, and he can’t bring himself to care about much now.
It takes him knocking one more time before one of them hears him, and the door opens.
“Oh, it’s you. Hey did you call about the toilet—“
“You look like shit.” Chenle interjects. Jisung just rolls his eyes and walks past them.
“Can I stay the night?”
The two boys look at each other, then back at him.
“Uh… Not that I don’t wanna have a slumber party but… Why?”
“Y/N is staying in my room.”
At the same time, both of their eyes bulge.
“Oh.” Mark says, but Chenle quickly shakes his head.
“You have a girl in your room? Like a real one? No way.” At this, no one cracks a smile, “Why do I know that name, though… Y/N… Y/N…”
”I thought it was going well, though,” Mark inquires, “How did you get kicked out of your own room?”
”Y/N…. Y/N who…”
“We fucked and I asked her what we were.” Jisung regretfully admits. He had no time to mull over how much detail he wanted to share, but confiding in his older friends sounded more helpful than not.
At this, Mark doesn’t reply, but the way he purses his lips is more than enough for Jisung to let his head swing down and he catches it in his hands.
”Y/N… Wait.” Having reached an epiphany, Chenle shoots up from the couch, “Y/N as in Jaehyun and Y/N?”
“I don’t get it…” Jisung sighs, muttering mostly to himself, “everything was fine.”
“So what went wrong?” It takes him a second to ponder Mark’s question, but the answer sits at the tip of his tongue. The hesitation in actually speaking it out loud—a sliver of embarrassment that shows in the way he stutters. “She k-kept calling me a friend and well, I don’t know. I just… ran my mouth.”
“If she made it clear you guys were friends then why would you ask her if y’all are a thing?” Chenle wonders, raising a curious brow. Mark gives him a shove.
”Because,” he starts, “We’ve been hooking up almost the whole semester. And not just hooking up. Talking all night, flirting… meeting up between and after classes.”
“Yeah, that’s not friendly.” Mark agrees.
“She does like you.” Chenle says with some level of astonishment, earning another shove from Mark and a gesturing glare that alerts him of Jisung’s obvious dishevelment.
“Chenle’s right.” Mark says, in a more gentle way, “She wouldn’t do any of… that if she didn’t. Maybe,” he puts a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and the younger boy looks up through wet eyelashes, “she was just a little overwhelmed by your confession.”
“She called me a friend.” He shakes his head, “I just had sex for the first time and she called me a friend.”
Mark quickly interjects before Chenle considers saying something insensitive, “Okay. But you have to remember: her and Jaehyun dated for two and a half years—“
“That’s not what I wanna hear, man.”
“—And,” Mark continues, “they only broke up earlier this year. You and her are new, and she’s probably just getting used to that. Besides, you only confessed after you guys… hooked up—nothing was established before.”
“If you liked her, you should have asked her out first.” Chenle sighs..
“So this is all going wrong because I didn’t do things by the book?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Mark glares at Chenle who at this point, gives up, leaning back to watch his game in silence. “I think if you would’ve made your feelings clear before, she might have reciprocated. She assumed you two were still friends because… you technically are still friends. Maybe she didn’t want to assume and have you freak out or something.”
At this, Jisung nods slowly, processing Mark’s words.
“What are you studying?” Chenle pokes the older boy.
“Engineering. Why? Also, we’ve lived together for two years and you don’t know my-“
“Drop out. Become a relationship counselor.” Chenle pats him on the back. Mark quickly shoves him off and turns to Jisung again who has shot out of his seat with a newfound confidence.
“I’m gonna go and apologize.” He decides. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Chenle replies without looking up from the screen. Mark just sighs.
“Yeah. Let me know how it goes.”
When Jisung knocks on the door to his room, he hears no answer. When he pushes the door open, he finds his room empty, with you and your things nowhere to be found.
The first thing he feels is worry, because where did you go? Not back to yours, because Heesung was there. He knows you have other friends, but he doesn’t know if you’re close enough to any of them to stay the night at theirs, and it was almost 11PM at this point.
He considers calling you, but if you didn’t answer, he would be shattered, more than he is already at the thought that you might have been hurt by what he said. So he settles into his bed that still smells like sex and you, and curls up on his side, legs restlessly shifting in a failed effort to get comfortable.
He spends the better part of an hour planning what to say to you tomorrow after class, or the next day, or whatever day you decide to give him a chance to explain himself and apologize for some of the things he said. Eventually, he drifts off, clutching to his chest the pillow where your head laid.
•.¸¸☆*・゚
Absent.
You were absent.
You have never been absent from astronomy before. Your seat besides his is empty, and you’re absent from class.
All morning, Jisung went over his speech as he paced around his room. He changed his sheets after finding some cum stains on it as he recited his confession, his apology. He planned how he would explain his mistake and how he would relay his understanding for your confusion.
He went over scenarios in his head on how to possibly get you back, because truthfully, that’s all he wanted. You were all that he wanted.
And now, you weren’t here.
Karina and Heeseung were, but the two didn’t even look his way, and had sat near the front of the class—an act which worried him, because: had you told Karina what happened? Did you go back home upset and interrupt them? Were they mad at him now, too?
Inevitably, class went by slowly. Painfully slowly. Unable to focus, all that Jisung could think about was you, so when the bell rang and all the students left the lecture room except him, he didn’t notice. The only thing that caught his attention finally, was your name being called out in Professor Hwang’s sharp tone.
“Huh?” He looks up from his laptop.
“I asked,” she starts, not too happy about having to repeat herself, “If you knew the reason for Ms. Y/n’s absence.”
“Oh.” He mumbles. As he looks around and notices the lack of classmates at his side, he starts packing his things. “No. Why do you think I would know?”
“Because, Mr. Park, the two of you are attached at the hip.”
“Well, I don’t.” He swings his bag over his shoulder and jogs down the stairs, “Maybe Karina does.”
As he’s about to pass her, Professor Hwang points her pen at his chest, stopping him.
“When you run into her, let her know her absence will count against her unless she has an excused note. And,” she slides her glasses off, folding them and tucking one of the legs to the neckline of her shirt, “I hope the two of you make up.”
“I-“ He’s speechless, “H-how did you know?”
“Educated guess.” she states simply.
Jisung nods once, and she lifts her pen to allow him to pass. He heads for the door, pushing it open and making his way to the quad so that he can go home.
He’ll just message you. That’s what he decides. He’ll just ask you to meet up with you, he thinks, that shouldn’t be too hard.
But the moment he hits the send button on a message he so carefully crafts for you and looks back up, he sees you from across the huge field of green.
A smile almost breaks out on his face, because he sees your hair and the pretty outfit you’ve chosen today, layered to keep you warm with a scarf tucked under your chin. But he doesn’t quite get to smile, because you’re accompanied by the last person he’d like to see you with right now.
You pause your conversation with Jaehyun to look down at your phone, presumably to check the message Jisung just sent you. Without replying, you quickly tuck it away into your pocket.
Jisung watches as you and Jaehyun stop and sit at a bench on the quad, engrossed in what looks like a serious conversation.
Now: he doesn’t want to be dramatic. It’ll get him nowhere and he knows that. That being said, he still pulls your contact up again, and writes you another message, rereading the one from earlier, too.
To: Y/n :3
hi. i noticed you weren’t in class today… i hope you weren’t avoiding me. i want to apologize to you in person for what happened last night. can we meet up if that’s okay? Sent at 2:10 PM.
To: Y/n :3
i’ll be at my dorm in 10 so just pass by when you have a chance. please.
Sent at 2:17 PM
He presses send and watches, as you pick up your phone again, read the message at lightning speed, and put it away.
Fuck.
•.¸¸☆*・゚
Jisung feels absolutely fucking ridiculous.
Why time seems to circle around you and waiting for you to come over so can apologize, he doesn’t know. The rest of his day is meaningless; he doesn’t eat, doesn’t study, doesn’t shower, doesn’t play video games, doesn’t call his mom, doesn’t do any of the things he normally does.
You don’t pass by today, meaning you read his messages, and willingly ignored them or put them off. Doesn’t mean he didn’t think about you or thought about you less; your continuous absence gave him more time to think and dwell.
He’s tired and feeling wide awake at the same time, missing your scent that he can no longer find on his sheets. Maybe he shouldn’t have washed them, even if they were filthy. He’s done worse things, like go to class with dried cum on his stomach, or used your cardigan to jack off. Your cardigan, that’s still by his desk, would have remnants of your scent, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up to retrieve it. And, even if he did, he would probably get hard and he definitely did not have the energy to jack off right now.
So he tosses and turns restlessly until he passes out with his mouth half open and his leg half hanging off the bed.
That night, he dreams of you. The next morning, he wakes up to someone continuously knocking on his door.
“I’m coming,” he grumbles into his pillow, quite literally rolling out of bed and in the process, getting tangled up in his comforter and falling on the carpeted floor of his dorm with a thump.
Jisung lets out some sort of distressed moan before struggling to his feet and wobbling over to the door. His left hand rubs his elbow which braced his fall, while his injured arm reaches out for the doorknob.
The knocking hasn’t stopped, so when he opens his door, his eyes are narrowed with sleep and annoyance.
“What?”
“Dude, why haven’t you called about the bathroom? I had to take a piss in the middle of the night and I stepped on toilet water. In my socks.”
Jisung only rolls his eyes at Mark, turning back to his bed and plopping down on it with a hiss as the rest of his body feels the damage of his fall.
“Have you talked to her?”
“No.” Jisung grumbles.
“Okay.” Mark sighs, “Well, when are you supposed to see her again?”
Jisung looks at his phone for the time. “Right now.”
“What? Is she coming over? Should I go?”
“No, you’re good. I have astronomy with her right now.”
“When?”
With a pause, Jisung rubs his eyes as he calculates, “47 minutes ago.”
Mark huffs, “so you just didn’t go to class?”
“Nope.”
Mark steps further into the room, looking around. “Is she supposed to come over at all?”
“Hopefully.”
“Alright, then. Get up.” His eyes bounce around the room until he finds a trash bag behind a clutter of Jisung’s things, then repeats himself a little sharper. “Get up and start cleaning.”
Instantly, Jisung groans, rolling over and getting under his comforter that seconds later, is yanked off of him. He starts to complain but Mark just shoves a bag in his hands.
“Non-negotiable. You think you’re gonna win her back with your room looking like a rat’s nest? Tidy up a bit, man.”
“Okay, mom.”
Reluctantly, he follows Mark’s lead, throwing away empty water bottles and cans that littered his room, as Mark focuses on any other pointless trash like empty packaging boxes.
“Where’s your hamper?” He asks, and Jisung extends a finger towards his closet.
“Dude.” Jisung turns to him. “When’s the last time you did laundry? This shit is overflowing.”
“Haven’t had the energy.”
“You had plenty of energy before this week. Here,” he kicks it over carefully so it doesn’t tip, then points at the clothes that litter his room, “Put it all here and go wash it. I’ll make your bed and throw out the trash.”
Jisung has never missed his mom so much. Sure, she’d nag him about his mess for days on end, but she was his mom, so eventually, he’d come home and everything would be tidied up for him. He definitely took her for granted, that much is painfully clear now as he gives Mark a long look of disdain. The older boy doesn’t budge; he only shoos Jisung away from the edge of the bed so he can get to work on spreading out the comforter.
Jisung does as instructed, too tired to argue or form a fuss, especially when all Mark is doing is helping him. That being said, he does do it in a very Jisung fashion: shoving all clothes, clean or dirty, into the hamper and literally dragging it down the hall to the laundry room. That includes your cardigan, which he gives one last glance to before tossing in the washing machine. It’s about time he gave it back to you anyway.
He watches his clothes spin around and around in the cycle for two different reasons, the first being that he’s generally zoning out, thinking about you. The second being that he’s making time before going back to his room, cause despite his friends best efforts and even better intentions, he does not want to clean.
But eventually, those two mix together, and he realizes Mark does have a point—if you came over and his room was a mess, that’s just one more thing he’d be embarrassed about.
So, he leaves his things in the washer and sulks all the way back to his room where he finds Mark accommodating the clutter at his desk.
“What a difference, huh?” Jisung wishes he could just shrug, but Mark’s eyes are filled with expectation.
“Yeah, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it!” He grins, grabbing his phone from the dresser. “I’ll leave you to it. Take a shower and try texting her again.”
Jisung nods once.
He checks the time and notices that you’d be out of class shortly, and if you didn’t come over, he’d have to stop by yours later. Regardless of how, the plan is to talk to you today, because Jisung simply can’t keep existing with his even-waking thought being you. The minute that class wraps up, he types out a message to you as he walks over to the shower. He makes a quick call to maintenance for the bathroom down the hall before turning on his ringer in case you reply and stepping into the shower.
For a while, he lets the water run over him, hissing as the temperature fluctuates between an acceptable barely-warm and an icy cold that matches the weather outside. The building’s heating system isn’t consistent or reliable, especially as the temperature drops more and more in the winter months, so he ceases his stalling and washes himself quickly before the water decides to stop cooperating.
He types away into his phone after wrapping the towel around his waist.
“We… really… need… to,” he reads out his text as he writes it, sighing out the last word, “talk.”
But as he walks down the hall to his room with the towel still hanging loosely and his hair dripping over his chest and shoulders, and consequently, the innocent carpet of the hallway, his feet skid to stop. Just as his finger presses send, he hears the ‘ding’ of the receiving end.
Both of you look up from your screens at the same time. As Jisung jumps in surprise, his towel drops, and you yelp.
“Sorry!” You spin around and cover your eyes as frantically looks around the hall to make sure no one else saw the mishap. He picks it up and ties it around himself again, securing it in his grip this time.
“No– I–It’s fine. You… You can look.” It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.
Cautiously you spin around, peeking through your fingers to check before peeling your hands from your face and dropping them at your sides. The air between the two of you is thick for a minute, until you sigh dejectedly.
“I got your texts.” You smile weakly, and Jisung can’t help but mirror your slightly embarrassed expression. The moment is awkward and bittersweet, and neither of you move until Jisung realizes he’s still standing naked in the dormitory hallway.
“Oh, right.” He shakes his head and moves to unlock his room door. “Here,” he gestures, and follows you inside.
You move cautiously through the small space, glancing over at his bed and chair before deciding you don’t wanna take a seat.
“I came over because…” you sigh again, “well, because we have to talk.”
The only word he can utter is “yeah.” as he watches the way you shift your weight between your feet, not knowing he was doing the exact same thing.
“Do you wanna wanna maybe…”
He follows your gaze as it reaches his towel, and he almost jumps out of it again.
“Right! Sorry! I-” he huffs, “could you just…”
Wordlessly, you turn around and opt for twiddling your thumbs as he waddles over to a drawer and finds a pair of shorts and shirt to slip on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to make sure you aren’t looking.
There’s no hiding the red in his face and ears as he spins back around with his lips pursed. “I’m done.”
There’s a pause as you spin around slowly… and another pause as both of you debate the right moment to speak up. It’s so awkward that his skin crawls and his mouth runs dry. There’s no noise, only the creaking of the floor as he walks to his bed and offers you a seat beside him.
“No, I-I’m okay with standing.”
Another pause.
“Jisung–”
“Y/n–
“You first.” You both reply, and you sigh as you realize you should probably go first, seeing as you’re the one who came over to talk in the first place.
“Okay.” With a shaky breath, you nod to yourself once before speaking, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I came to talk to you because… Well, I saw your messages and… I don’t like how we left things off, Ji.”
“Me either.” He admits, looking down at the floor as his mind swarms him with all the possible things you may or may not say.
“I talked to Jaehyun earlier. He’s my, uh,”
“Ex.” He says at the same time as you, and both of you make eye contact.
Jisung’s heart pounds as you stand before him, voice tentative and unsure. When you say, “It wasn’t fair of me to downplay everything between us. I just… I got scared,” he can’t help but clench his jaw. He wants to be understanding, to remember that you’re figuring things out too, but the memory of you calling him just a friend gnaws at him. How was he supposed to take that?
“So… was it just comfort for you, then? Convenience? A quick fuck?” he blurts, his voice tight. “Because I thought I meant something to you.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound so raw, but the words slip out anyway, his vulnerability laid bare.
You look up at him finally, eyes wide. “You do. You mean more to me than anyone ever has, Jisung,” you say, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and longing. His heart stutters.
You take a shaky breath. “I talked to Jaehyun about us.” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up. You talked to Jaehyun, that much he knew. But about him? He swallows thickly, nodding for you to continue, bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.
“He told me that… that you’re a good guy,” you continue, voice soft. “He said I’d be lucky if you… if we…” You trail off, biting your lip, and Jisung’s heart tightens.
“So… Jaehyun’s okay with what happened between us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nod, looking at him with an intensity that makes his heart race. “He is. And he’s right, Jisung. You’re good to me, and I don’t want to push you away. I didn’t want to call it something more because I was afraid I’d mess it up. But now… I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”
He lets out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of your words. He takes a small step toward you, closing the distance, his hand lifting almost on instinct to brush against your cheek.
“Are you serious?” he asks softly, his voice barely steady. “Because if you’re in, I’m in. I’ve been in this whole time. I’ve wanted us to be more, and if you’re ready, I’m… I’m here.”
You nod, relief and a hesitant smile lighting up your face. In that moment, Jisung’s fears and doubts melt away slowly. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, as if he’s finally found his way through the maze of emotions you both have been lost in.
In the warmth of his embrace, you whisper, “I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Jisung holds you close, but there’s a hesitation in his touch, like he’s afraid this might disappear if he lets himself fully believe it. His fingers press into your back, grounding himself in the feeling of you, warm and real against him. He swallows, his heart heavy with the months of wanting, wondering, hoping, and fearing. Finally, he lets his eyes close, murmuring, “I thought I’d have to keep pretending forever, you know? Like maybe if I just waited long enough, I’d be okay with just… us as friends.” He laughs softly, the sound more fragile than he intends. “But I was never okay. I don’t think I ever would’ve been.”
You pull back slightly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. You search his eyes, looking for the hesitation, the doubt that lingers in his gaze.
“I know,” you say quietly, your voice soft but full of sincerity. “I wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t give you the chance you deserved. I was so afraid of what it could mean, of what I could lose, that I… I pushed you away.”
Jisung’s jaw tightens, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. “But now you’re here. Saying you want this… with me,” he whispers, his hands shaking slightly as he cups your face. “How do I know… how do I know you won’t change your mind again?”
“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice quivering. “But I do know that I’m not running this time. I’m here.”
And then, almost imperceptibly, you both laugh. It’s soft at first, a tiny giggle that slips out between the quiet, and it catches both of you off guard. The sound is shaky, like it’s laced with the bittersweet relief of finally breaking the tension that’s been building between you for so long.
“God,” Jisung chuckles, his hands moving down to your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze.
The smile between you both widens as you inch closer, drawn by the gravity of each other’s presence. Slowly, almost cautiously, you lean in. And when your lips finally meet, it’s tender and slow.
The kiss deepens, and this time, there’s no hesitation. Jisung pulls you closer, his hands resting at the small of your back, guiding you into him as if he wants to feel every inch of you, to make sure this is real. You respond just as eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of him, the gentleness that’s always been there beneath the surface.
His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, as though he’s savoring the moment, soaking in everything that’s been unsaid for so long. The kiss is slow, deliberate, and full of promise. There’s no rush—just the sweet, simple taste of your mouth on his.
When you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning at each other. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your lips, still tasting the lingering sweetness of the kiss.
You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve always been here. I just needed to realize it.” You tilt your head back slightly, locking eyes with him.
With a gentle pull, Jisung brings you in for another kiss, this one more playful, less tender, but just as full of emotion.
You pull away first, your lips tingling, and look at him with a teasing smile. “So, what now?” you ask, a little shy.
He raises an eyebrow, his grin matching yours. “Now, we take this one step at a time, but together.” He wraps his arms around you once more, pulling you into him with an ease that feels natural, “And maybe…” he starts, voice teasing as he buries his face in your neck, “we make up for lost time.”
You gasp out softly, tilting your head to give him room to continue to kiss and lick at your throat, “sounds… good to me.”
He turns his head, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, “Let me lay you down, yeah?”
You nod, ‘Mhm…”
Jisung pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back as the space between you both shrinks. The air feels thick with anticipation, and the playful teasing that once filled the room fades, replaced by something deeper, more pressing. His touch is gentle yet urgent, guiding you toward the bed with a quiet confidence, the two of you knowing exactly what comes next.
The world outside this moment feels distant, irrelevant. There’s nothing but the heat of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, as he realizes, he finally got you.
*. * ·
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Our suffering ends now - Tommy Shelby (smut)
It truly has been a while since I’ve last posted a Tommy fic, but I love how this came together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: She has mourned his death for the past years, all until her boss speaks of him, leaving (y/n) to wonder how she could have been betrayed like that, blindsided by lies. It’s time for her to return to the man she has believed to be dead.
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, reunited lovers, some angst and crying
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)
Trees blurred past the window she sat close to, hands holding onto the book she carried with herself. Her eyes burned from being awake for so long, having to change trains every few hours, set on making it to him before night would break. Hours ago her heart had raced in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was trying to flee from her. And she couldn’t blame it, knowing that what she was about to do would be uncomfortable, scarily so.
This journey broke more promises than she could count with both of her cold hands, and yet she hadn’t been able to fight against the need to see him again – after all these years. She could still hear Ada’s and Polly’s voices speaking to her, forcing her to leave that one cruel night years ago. With tears rolling down her cheeks she had given in, watching the two women pack her bags before accompanying (y/n) to the train station. A foolish mistake she had been forced to live with.
She was torn between hurt and anger, not understanding how the two women she had once loved like her own sisters could have betrayed her like that. For years she had lived with the knowledge that her lover was dead, that he hadn’t made it home after the war. Lies, nothing but lies she had been fed.
If it hadn’t been for her job she would have kept believing the lies, not doubting what she had been told by the two. If it hadn’t been for the way her boss had spoken of him, she wouldn’t have stopped grieving the loss of the man she had once promised to love until her death. If it hadn’t been for the sinking feeling growing deep within her, she wouldn’t have purchased the train tickets that very night before calling the only man she had kept in touch with.
Her legs ached as she rose to her feet, ready to step out of the train in hopes of spotting him. A deep breath was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) started moving, holding onto her suitcase while the cold evening air wrapped itself around her.
“(Y/n)!” The smile widening on her lips only grew as her eyes spotted Alfie, rushing towards him to throw herself into his arms. He held onto her, hugging her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it had only been a handful of weeks. His comforting scent wrapped itself around (y/n), cozying her along as he slowly parted from her. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“You fucker.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, earning a few shameful gazes from couples brushing past the two. But Alfie’s loud laugh distracted her enough to keep smiling at the man she had crossed paths with years ago, instantly learning to love him like a brother.
“Come, come, let’s get some food into your system and then you can tell me all about why you have summoned me to Birmingham, yeah?”
…
“Pain has never suited you, and yet it never dims your beauty.” (Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him in an almost mocking manner, drawing a smirk onto Alfie’s lips. She pushed herself further into the couch, legs tucked underneath herself while Alfie sat close to her, waiting for her to finally shed some light onto her mysterious behaviour.
“You remember what I told you about him, don’t you?” A sigh left Alfie at her words, eyes momentarily fluttering close as if his annoyance was already getting the best of him.
“I told you I would marry you, there is no reason to mourn a life with a husband you never had. Say the words, Alfie marry me, and I will, yeah? Is this why you so desperately needed to see me, pearl? Because of some boy who fell at war like so many others?” Her jaw muscles began to tick in anger, a fire started to burn in her eyes at his words. (Y/n) had to let go of a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm before this could spiral into another fight neither of them would win.
“He’s not dead.” It was a simple sentence, and yet it carried more pain than all others she had spoken in a long time. It almost felt as if every single vowel had sharp teeth, scratching at her tongue as they rolled right off the strong muscle to leave behind wounds that wouldn’t fade.
“What? Did his ghost suddenly appear at night? Did God speak to you-,” the sharp call of his name interrupted Alfie, forcing him to quieten down with anger tugging on his features. For a moment, neither of them spoke a word, letting a heavy silence fill the room. Ever since their paths had crossed, she had told Alfie all about him, without ever telling him his name, he knew nothing but the endless moments she could still remember, the love she had been fortunate enough to experience.
“I heard it at work, my boss spoke of him and his brothers. He’s alive, I’ve grieved a man who was never dead all because I believed lies I had no reason not to believe. That’s why I called you, if somebody could help me find him, it’d be you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as if the sky itself was crying for her and all those horrible years she had lost to mourning him.
“What is his name, (y/n)?” Seriousness clung to Alfie as he asked the one question he had never dared to ask, shoulders tensed, lips pressed together as if he already knew the name she was about to whisper.
“Tommy Shelby.” All Alfie did was stare at her, making goosebumps appear on her arms as he shot to his feet, turning his back on (y/n) while a sound torn between a groan and a shout tore out of him. She was close to flinching, not understanding why he was reacting that way.
“I can’t take you to him, (y/n). You’ll take the first train home tomorrow morning.” (Y/n) mimicked his movements while an almost hysterical laugh clawed out of her. Slowly, Alfie turned back towards her, both stared at one another, waiting for the other to break first.
“I won’t leave, not before I see him again. What do you even know of Tommy, Alfie?” With two quick steps he had reached her, hands finding her warm face to cling to her. Pain was swimming in his pupils, a pain that reached far deeper than she could imagine. His calloused thumb stroked her skin as he softly shook his head at her, seemingly fighting to find the right words.
“Tommy Shelby is a devil, yeah, he’s a man who’d kill you without needing a gun nor a knife. He’s not the man you once loved, go home, forget about him and allow me to show you glimpses of a life you deserve to live, pearl.” (Y/n) pushed herself into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his racing heartbeat. She clung to the man she wished she could love like a lover, a man who’d treat her well enough to offer her the world. And yet her heart couldn’t let go of Tommy, of the life she ached for like a starving woman dreaming of a soup to warm her aching body.
“Take me to him, Alfie, this is a decision that’s only mine to make.”
……
Her fingers were interlaced with his, feeling his thumb stroke the back of her hand while she shifted her weight from one side of the pillow to the other. Both were staring at the door, waiting for the sound of somebody knocking on the wood to reach them. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) had problems breathing, tensing even further as the sound could finally be heard.
And then her eyes found his frame, a man dressed in a sharp suit, in a thick dark coat and a cap whose shadow hid most of his features. Alfie rose to his feet, hiding her behind his frame as if he was still giving her the chance to turn around and leave, “Tommy, I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but we both know that’d be a lie, yeah.”
“What am I doing here, Alfie? I don’t have much time.” Silence began to stretch itself through the room, a silence that was filled by the sound of (y/n) clearing her throat. Alfie was forced to step aside as she rose, forcing all eyes onto her. For a moment nobody spoke, icy eyes wandered over her features, forcing her to straighten her spine and to blink away her tears. She struggled to believe that he was real, he had changed, had grown older and yet he still looked like the boy she had sworn to marry.
“Tommy,” his name left her like a whisper, a sound that made him take a step back as if his personal hell was awaiting him. He kept staring at her until Alfie pushed himself closer to (y/n), forcing Tommy’s eyes to flicker from her to his enemy. “Do us a favour and give us some time alone, please, Alfie.”
It took Alfie a second to give in, staring at Tommy for a few more seconds before he reluctantly left the room. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, making her jump while it began to dawn on her that she was finally alone with Tommy, just like she had imagined for all these years.
“It felt like a dream, you know, to hear your name again after all these years where I grieved you, believing you to be dead.” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, shaking with every further word she spoke. Her wide eyes clung to his confused features, watching his expression harden. She took a step closer, halting in her step as he shook his head, forcing her to stand still once again.
“You don’t need to lie to me, (y/n). You left without a word, forcing me to return to an empty home.” A sob left her, rumbling through her louder than intended. Now it was on her to shake her head, to cover her mouth with her shaking hand while bile filled her mouth. It felt like a cruel joke, allowing her to see through the game Ada and Polly had played on both of them.
“Tommy, they told me you died, they made me pack my bags, made me leave home to start my life all over again in a different city hours away. I didn’t leave on my free will, why should I? I was ready to marry you, to start a family, you have to believe me.” She tried to move again, successfully this time, coming to a halt right in front of him. (Y/n) allowed herself to cup his cheek like she had last done the day he had left to fight in a devastating war. His piercing eyes kept staring at her glassy ones, watching her tears fall.
“Who’s they?” It was a simple question, a question rasped out with pain dripping from the words. Her tongue kissed her teeth, all too aware that this situation was about to spiral into another heartbreak.
“Ada and Polly.” Nothing but a whisper, words that made anger widen on his handsome features. His gloved hand found hers, gently pushing her hand from his cheek to get some more distance between them, clearly hurting (y/n) with the simple action.
“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I hope Alfie takes good care of you.” Tommy turned from her, ready to leave the room while she choked on another sob.
“He’s nothing but a brother to me, Tommy. I never loved another. I can’t even bear the thought of being close to somebody who isn’t you.” He halted in his step, letting the words wash over him before wordlessly leaving the room. Leaving (y/n) behind with another cruel sob leaving her.
……
It had been hours since she had seen Tommy, hours she had spent with her cheek pressed to Alfie’s chest, drowning in the tears that didn’t seem to stop rolling. He had clung to her, had whispered comforting words to try and soothe her pain, without any luck. All until the phone call that had reached him, asking him to bring (y/n) to the Garrison at 4pm, not followed by any explanation.
And so it came that she was leaning against Alfie as they stepped into the empty place, letting her eyes wander through the room. She found herself distracted for a moment, until her name was shouted by Arthur’s familiar voice, forcing her into a tight hug that made her chuckle in delight.
Her body shook as they were led towards a room in the back, allowing her eyes to meet Tommy’s icy ones. A cigarette was held between his lips, the smoke engulfed him as if his shadows had moved up his body, whispering commands to him. It took Alfie a moment to let go of (y/n), to press a kiss to her hairline, eyes drawn back to Tommy, “If I find her crying again, I won’t hesitate to finally put a bullet between your eyes just like God intended, yeah?”
It felt like a deja-vu, reminding her of their conversation hours ago after Alfie had left. She didn't dare move as Tommy kept smoking, intensely studying her. He leaned back in his chair before he reached his hand out, wordlessly urging her closer through the now empty room. (Y/n) moved slowly, feeling her heart skipping beats as he pulled her closer, forcing her to stand between his thighs.
“I dreamt of you, back in France. You were the only thing keeping me alive. I even prayed, to you or whoever would fucking bring me back to you. And then you were gone. They said you couldn’t wait any longer, that you couldn’t endure the pain.” He had his eyebrows furrowed, no longer able to look at her. A sigh left (y/n), she leaned back against the table to get a better view of his hard features, feeling how torn he was.
“They told me you died, that there was nothing left for me here. I didn’t get a chance to protest, they packed everything up and then I was suddenly on a train up north.” Her words drew his eyes back to (y/n), looking at the woman he had always loved, even as he had tried to hate her. Tommy tugged on her hand to pull her into his lap as if he still needed to convince himself that she was real, not a trick of his tired mind.
“They will pay for the hurt they’ve caused you.” It was a promise, filled with darkness and hurt, but (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to worry. Not when she was this close to him again, finally.
“Is it true what Alfie told me? Did you get married?” He swallowed before his hand moved up her thigh, coming to rest on her waist. The silence told her everything she needed to know, leaving her to wonder how that woman had managed to capture his heart while (y/n)’s had been missing half of hers.
“I did, her name was Grace. I loved her, and yet it was no love like ours. Nothing could ever be like that.” A soft smile tugged on her lips, trying to forget about the woman who had once been at his side. Alfie had told her of her, of every detail he had picked up on over the past months, stories (y/n) was desperate to leave behind.
Whatever it was that urged her on to move, it grew stronger with every passing second, until her lips ghosted over his. Tommy instantly reacted, searching her lips to press a hard kiss against them. He tasted of whisky, of cigarettes, and tea, nothing like the kisses they had last shared as young adults, tasting of a bright future that had been dimmed weeks later.
The kiss grew more passionate as she began to shift around, wrapping both arms around his neck while her legs rested on either side of his. Their tongues fought for victory as his hands moved up her sides, tracing the body he had longed for in cold and dark nights. She was his warmth, the warmth that had been robbed from him beneath the surface of the earth, hiding away in tunnels that would forever haunt him.
“Tommy,” she mumbled his name against his lips as both sucked air into their lungs, unable to stop clinging to one another. “Touch me, prove to me that you’re real. Let me feel you, please.”
His grip on her grew tighter, icy eyes watching her for a moment before he kissed her again. His hands found the seam of her dress, pushing the skirt further up her thighs with his hands finding her warm skin. A groan tore out of him as he touched her through the fabric of her undergarments, drawing a soft moan from her parted lips.
Tommy spoke no warning as he stood up to place her down on the table. They held eye contact, wordlessly communicating while he pulled her undergarments down her legs, hand instantly drawn back to her heat. He touched her with care, gently brushing through her slip to collect drops of arousal.
(Y/n)’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering close as he began to circle her pulsing bundle. Even though her mind struggled to figure out if she was truly experiencing this, if her lost lover was back to bring her pleasure, she didn’t find it in herself to care, to ask any other question.
He looked like the devil, towering over her while pushing two fingers into her tightness. Tommy had been the last man she had allowed to touch her, and yet it felt so different to be touched by him, a new sensation she was already addicted to. He moved slowly, curling his fingers against her swollen spot while his thumb kept rubbing her pulsing bundle.
She choked on his name, calling it out into the evening as if she was trying to summon him. He marvelled at her while he brought her pleasure, reminding her of all those times he had imagined this happening, aching for her while other women warmed his bed. And yet they hadn’t been her, no other woman had ever managed to make him feel this alive, eliciting a love for life deep inside of him.
“I need you, all of you. Make love to me like you once did, Tommy.” He fumbled with his belt, freeing his hard cock from his trousers before brushing through her slit again. His hand found her throat to pull her in for another kiss the second he sank into her, feeling her walls flutter around him.
It felt as if the world was ending, as if this was the last thing they could experience before their lives would end. And yet, (y/n) could only pray that death would be this beautiful, this comforting, finding herself in the arms of her lover.
Tommy moved with care, fucking her softly for a few thrusts before he picked her up again to sink back down on the chair. He allowed her to take what she was aching for, fucking herself on his cock while his strong hands supported her. Every now and then his hips began to jerk, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness.
“Heavens, I missed you, Tommy. I missed you so much.” Her eyes were too tired to cry again, and yet she felt as if she was whimpering for him, for the time lost, and the dreams that had been buried six feet under. His hand kept a possessive hold of her throat, keeping (y/n) close to whisper to her.
“You’re mine, (y/n), no lost time will ever change that.” The second his thumb found her bundle again she was done for, ready to let go with his name bleeding from her tongue. He held onto her as she came, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer himself.
It hadn’t been long since he had last found comfort with another woman around, and yet it hadn’t nearly felt this good, this intense, this right. Tommy forced his eyes to stay open, to watch her fall apart as he followed moments later, imprinting himself on her walls.
For a minute or two neither of them spoke, letting go of heavy breaths while their bodies stayed connected. Gently, he helped her off his lap, only to pull her back in the second he’d redressed. Neither of them could let go, scared that the other would leave their side otherwise.
“What will happen now, Tommy?” She was scared to speak the question, didn’t want to be pushed away by the one man she’d never be able to stop loving. His hand pulled her back against his chest, chin placed on top of her head while alighting a cigarette.
“Now you’ll find a new home here, with me. Our suffering ends now.”
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Threads - Part 13
Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)
Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!
Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.
Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.
Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives
Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9, 11, and 13), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning.
Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman
Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea
Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut), Part 12
Warning! This chapter contains wedding night smut! Please do not proceed if you are not of age to read such things, or if such are not your cup of tea!
Part 13
For all the time Linnea had spent preparing for it, the coronation itself was a blur. Elven memories did not dim; when she thought of it later, she remembered it perfectly. But at the time, it moved in flashes, one clear moment after another.
Gil-galad taking her hand and leading her from the feast, the wedding guests falling in behind them.
Walking the path down to the great Tree, through the gathered crowds. So many had come that the path was narrow, but those closest stepped back to leave more space, bowing deeply as they did so. The sound of a harp beginning to play.
Gil-galad standing next to the Tree. Her crown, resting on a pillow that Elrond carried, a delicate semicircle of golden mulberry leaves. Linnea had chosen the design both for beauty and symbolism; the mulberry leaf was the preferred food of silkworms. The same smith that had wrought the betrothal ring she had given to Gil-galad had been selected to craft the crown, and she had done her work well.
Herself. Kneeling on the steps to the dais, Gil-galad stepping forward and standing in front of her. Him lifting the crown from the pillow.
“Varda, queen of the Valar, we call upon you. Grant your blessing to Linnea, daughter of Taucion and Lhénes, wife to Ereinion - ”
His voice catching. Lingering.
“Grant your blessing as we crown her High Queen of the Noldor, that she may rule wisely and well for as long as the Father of All wills it.”
The wreath of golden leaves settling on her brow.
Afterward, well-wishers. An endless stream of them, bowing and murmuring their names, seeking to take the hand of their new queen. The formality of the occasion quickly dissolving, save for the line to greet her. Everyone milling about, enjoying the food from the laden tables, no plate or glass empty for more than a moment. The harp joined by a flute, the music turning livelier. A circle forming to dance.
Gil-galad by her side throughout all of it.
And then, finally, the sun beginning to set. The crowds slowly dispersing.
Her husband, offering her his arm.
No staircase tonight. Instead they went directly to his rooms - and Linnea supposed that now it was really theirs. Still his space, and hers below, but a combined third state that was somehow shared.
Especially the bed.
The door shut behind them.
They hadn't spoken about this moment. There had not been time, and she could see that Ereinion was nervous, searching for something to do, an action to take that would help him set his compass. It was part of his nature to be so.
“Will you…” He cleared his throat. “I will await you here, if you wish to return to your rooms and summon your attendants.”
That had been their habit during the previous nights. Linnea had gone to her rooms to change, and then returned for tea and shared pleasures and finally sleep. She could do the same tonight.
But she found herself not wanting to leave him. It felt somehow wrong to separate tonight, even for those few minutes. There would be other nights for the beautiful nightgown and nightrobe that Eressie had made; there was no reason for her to change her garments only for him to remove them again.
And as she looked at him, so beautiful in his white and gold, she wanted to be the one to undress him.
“Perhaps…tonight we might tend to one another?” she offered softly.
Her words seemed to bridge the distance, the change that was about to happen. Ereinion smiled and stepped up to her, his hand cupping her face, and she rose up on her tiptoes even as he bent down. A longer, much longer kiss than they’d shared outside; more sensual, deeper, slower.
And when the kiss ended, and she opened her eyes, he was looking so intently at her. And perhaps that was part of why this act, what they were going to do, was so intimate. Focusing on someone else to this extent, making them the entire world; perhaps it could be done without love like this behind it and still be enjoyed, but that seemed like a different thing entirely. His hand was still on her face, and his voice, when he spoke, was the softest whisper imaginable.
“Will you lie with me, melethel?”
On one hand it was a strange question. They had stood in front of the assembled guests; they had spoken the blessings; they had exchanged rings and gifts. All that was proper had been done. This was the final step for all that had come before. And they had already shared so much passion and joy with one another, learning each other's bodies before this night.
But on the other, it was that final step, the act that made their marriage. And so it made sense that he would ask, just as he had asked her to wed at the beginning of the ceremony.
“Alassenya nás, meleth nín.”
It is my joy, beloved.
Ereinion smiled. Slowly, he raised his hands to the crown that he himself had set upon her head, and lifted it free. The mulberry leaves glittered in the lantern light as he set it aside - and the laurel leaves of his own crown did the same, as he bowed his head to her.
With trembling hands, Linnea took his crown off, and set it on the table next to hers. The sight hit hard, made it real in a way that even the weight of the crown on her head had not done: High King, and High Queen.
When he straightened up, she decided that the rest of the metal he wore needed to go too. Her fingers reached for his belt and swiftly unfastened it, found the chain of his pectoral and unhooked it. He submitted to her attentions quietly, making no move to help except for positioning himself to make it easier. And when she had dispensed with those things, it was only natural that she should push the overrobe off his shoulders, and then that she should gather up the robe itself and lift it over his head.
He liked silk pants beneath his robes, and had made no exception that day. They were pure white, pale as the moon, and the only other thing he still wore was a pair of soft white leather shoes. And in the next moment, he kicked those off.
Linnea reached for the pants, but he stopped her hands, catching them with his own.
“Turn for me,” he murmured.
She did. She felt him gather up her hair, moving the mass of curls off her back and over her shoulder. Once it was out of the way, she felt gentle tugs at her back, one after the other; he had untied her corset and was carefully unlacing it, inch by inch. It loosened around her, dropping down as it did, until the last of the lacing was undone and the dress slithered off her, over her hips and down her arms, to pool at her feet.
She was left in her undergarments: thin white silk, a shift and drawers. Barely anything at all. And then even less, as Ereinion slid his hands over her hips, catching the shift and drawing it up over her head.
Her heart raced, as her hair fell down around her. She turned back around.
He was staring. His eyes were dark and wide, shimmering as he looked at her. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, but he still looked stunned, and she felt his hand tremble when he laid it on her face to draw her mouth to his again. The kiss was slow for a moment and then became more demanding, as her skin touched his and his arms went around her and the heat in her core burst to life.
They had all night. There was no need to rush. But when she slid her hands down his chest, reaching again for the tie on his pants, he did not stop her that time.
This was new. Not the sight of him, as the pants dropped and he stepped out of them, but all of him. They had always left some clothes at least nominally on during the past nights, not that that had prevented anything at all. But it had been a vague notion that there would be something still to discover on their true wedding night. And as it turned out, that idea had had merit, for him proudly naked with nothing obstructing her gaze was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
She let her eyes feast. And he stood there, letting her drink him in, and then it was his turn to finish what he'd started.
He had held still for her; she did the same for him once she was bare, as his eyes moved over her nude form. His gaze was so fierce that it almost felt like a touch, like his hands were running over her breasts, down her stomach, sliding over her hips and between her legs. Her core burned for him and he had barely laid a finger on her.
“Ereinion,” she finally whispered, and he smiled.
“What would you have of me, my lady?”
The glitter in his eyes said he knew her answer, but that he desired to hear it. And she would deny him nothing.
“You,” she breathed. “All of you.”
Linnea took his hands, pulling him to the bed. He followed, and once they had reached it and she had sat and then laid down, he joined her, stretching his long frame out next to her. He always made her feel so delicate and small - but not fragile, because his strength was hers, shared between them.
Ereinion propped himself up on an elbow, brushing her hair back from her face. She burned for him - and his body said he was more than ready for her - but the gentle touch showed that even so, he would be patient.
He lowered his lips to hers, taking his time about the kiss. Slow and sensual; it deepened gradually, lovingly. He tasted of honey and fruit, the sweets from the coronation reception, and of the wine that had flowed freely. She cupped his face, stroking her fingers delicately over the lines of his cheeks and his ears, feeling the silken strands of his hair brush her hands.
When he lifted his head, she smiled at him.
“What would you have of me, my love?”
Ereinion chuckled quietly, shaking his head, eyes closing briefly. “A gift that I never thought to receive at all,” he murmured. “But not before I ensure your pleasure, melethel.”
She was ready for him. She needed no more than him; she ached for him, her body knowing what it wanted. And she opened her mouth to say so, but before she could speak, he had shifted his weight to cover her, and his lips had started making their way down her bare body.
Clearly, he was enjoying the lack of obstacles. No clothing in his way, no nightgown to push aside in some faint semblance of modesty. He had kissed her skin before; his lips had run over her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. Her stomach, her thighs. But he was making sure that no inch of skin was neglected, feathering his mouth over every bit of her. He lingered at her breasts, his tongue swiping over each nipple in turn until both were stiff and aching, and then drawing them one by one into his mouth to suck. He had learned well, over the past nights; he had learned that this pleased her greatly, that she would writhe and moan for him when he did this.
Linnea reached, trying to touch him, trying to wiggle her hand between them. Her fingers just managed to brush his sex and he shuddered, shifting his hips away out of her reach, and then laughing again softly at the whine that escaped her lips.
“Patience, beloved,” he murmured. “Patience.”
Truly, his would outlast the stars; she did not have nearly that much. At the slide of his hand down her stomach, she spread her legs eagerly, and the motion made him moan against her breast. Yet for all his admonishments of patience, he did not delay in giving her what she wanted - his fingers gently caressed the soft folds of her and he groaned at how easily they moved, how slick she was already. She rocked her hips into his hand, pushing for a firmer touch, and that elicited another groan. His finger slipped up, circling where she needed him the most, stroking the sensitive bud of nerves in just the way she loved. But he was keeping it slow; it was another thing he had learned so well, that building her pleasure up gradually resulted in the most blinding, earth-shattering peaks.
“Ereinion…”
She curved her hands over his head, his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair. He abandoned her breasts and slid downward, his hand never ceasing its movements to keep stoking the fire in her. Down, down, down; lips caressing the smoothness of her belly, and then low enough that she could no longer reach him and had to settle for gripping the blankets. Kisses on the inside of her knee and then back up, along her inner thigh, and all the while that hand. Those fingers working their magic on her, first one and then two inside, a gentle stretch and thrusting that was a prelude to what she knew would be happening soon.
His mouth took over the work that his fingers had left. Tongue caressing that throbbing little bud; licking, suckling, teasing. Still gentle, still slow, building and building and building, using everything he'd learned over the past nights. Her eyes were torn between wanting to drink in the sight of his head between her legs and not having the strength to stay open; her head lolled back on the pillows, lips parted, breath coming in shallow gasps and whimpers.
The motion of his mouth stopped, although his fingers continued their glide in and out of her - less smooth now that she was clenching tightly around them, desperate for release. She felt him shift back, felt his breath on her flesh as he spoke.
“Let go, beloved. Let go for me.”
When he leaned back in and resumed that soft, deliberate licking, she came apart. It was a miracle that she did not shred the blankets that her fingers gripped so tightly; her vision went white, and her entire body shook with the force of it. And Ereinion’s tongue did not stop; he kept going, groaning his own pleasure at the feel of hers, prolonging the release until she was limp on the bed, drowning in feeling, unable to move so much as a muscle.
Only then did he ease his fingers from her; only then did he move back up on the bed, shifting so that her spent form lay cradled in his arms. She let him move her, eyes still closed, feeling her heart gradually slowing to normal.
When Linnea finally opened her eyes, he was gazing at her, a faint smile on his face.
“Are you well?”
She laughed. His question held no trace of nervousness, as it had the first time they had been together. It was knowing now, and even just faintly smug - but she did not begrudge him that in the slightest.
She reached up, caressing his cheek. “I love you.”
Ereinion turned, pressing his lips to her palm, once and then again. She trailed her hand down lazily, over his neck and shoulder, down his chest - and it was her turn to smile as he shuddered slightly at the touch. He was happy to let her recover, to rest a moment after such pleasure, but that did not mean that his desire had been exhausted.
No, not at all. And the proof of that was found as her hand moved lower, down the firm muscles of his stomach and lower yet.
He shuddered again, more forcefully, as she wrapped her hand around him. She too had learned; she had learned how he liked best to be touched, and she trailed her fingertips delicately over the side of his sex. The hot, velvety skin quivered, his hips pushing his hard length into her hand, and as she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head, she felt the silken moisture that told her how on edge he was.
She intended to draw it out, as he had with her. He was not the only one who had learned how to use his mouth, his tongue, to great effect. But as she made to move back and lower her head to his lap, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Not now,” he breathed, and she could hear the tremble in his voice. “Now - melethel, I want you now…”
Oh, yes. Yes.
For a moment, she wondered how. But he clearly had something in mind; he sat up and pulled her to settle on his lap, astride his hips just as she had been the first time he had touched her. His sex brushed against her still-sensitive core and she shuddered, her hips seeking, pressing down as she draped her arms around his shoulders.
His hand slipped between them, grasping his own sex and dragging it through her folds to notch himself at her entrance. She was used to the feeling of entry by now from his fingers, but this was much different - more stretch, firmer pressure, and the craving for more of both, for that hardness to fill her.
“At your pace,” he whispered, voice trembling even more. “As slow as you need to.”
She was slick, and the pleasure from his mouth and fingers had helped relax her. But it still made her muscles burn as she sank down, as her body stretched to accommodate taking him in, and she couldn't help but gasp as he slid inside her. Ereinion nuzzled the side of her face, and she turned her head to meet his kiss, all the while lowering herself. And even amid what must have been an onslaught of sensation for him, he stroked her back, soothing her, letting her take all the time she needed.
When their hips finally met, she drew in a deep, ragged breath, just feeling. Stretch, yes, but also pleasure - and yet, that craving was still there for something more, wanting to move, wanting him to move.
Linnea lifted her head, meeting his eyes, and gave him a small nod.
He understood.
There was a shift beneath her, a roll of his hips that pulled him out slightly and then pushed back in. And then another, just as slow and gentle. The movement banished the last of the lingering pain, sweeping it away in a blaze of pleasure; she cried out and he immediately stilled, hands clenching on her, but she quickly took over the rhythm to reassure him, rocking her hips back and forth, and it was his turn to moan, his turn to call out her name.
“Linnea…”
The coil inside her was tightening again, her heart pounding, her body gasping for air, even as the rhythm between their bodies stayed slow. And he was there too; his mouth was open, eyes dark and deep.
His hand stole up, bringing her head down to claim her mouth. The kiss deepened hungrily, and as it did, she felt herself being tilted, laid down with their bodies still one, Ereinion on top of her, and oh, oh, his weight and his warmth and the change in angle of him inside her, the change in position that meant he was in control of the pace; there was more force behind his thrusts, although he was still attempting to go slow. If she'd thought the pleasure would drown her before, now it had the inexorability of the tides pulling her under; the only thing in the entirety of creation was Ereinion's body on her, in her, first and last and only -
And as everything in her tightened, tightened, she was aware of something else new. Even amongst all of the new sensations sweeping through her, it was like a muscle she had never been aware of before - something that could flex if she willed it so. The building pleasure stopped, like a wave stopped by a dam, just waiting for something -
Before she could consider it more, the pleasure broke. For them both.
Even as she was swept away by her own climax, she heard him cry out. He convulsed in her arms, a garbled half-shout, half-moan bursting from him. She felt warmth spread inside her, his release filling her as he spent himself. The dark curtains of his hair cloaked her head as he bent for a kiss, and then she laughed in delight as he peppered her face with more kisses.
When finally he rolled off, he reached for her, and she went to lie on his chest. His arms encircled her and she had never felt so safe, so cherished. She was a wife now, his wife and his queen, wedded and crowned and bedded. His forever, as he was hers.
Of course, she had already known that. But this day had made it all real.
Linnea felt his hand lazily stroking over her hair, and a press of his lips against her head. It had been long enough that she felt like she could actually move, and she rose up, propping herself on her elbow, smiling at the sight of him with rumpled hair and cheeks stained pink.
“Are you well?”
Ereinion laughed at that, sliding his hand up her back to tug her down for a kiss. “I am,” he murmured against her lips. “I am well indeed, now that I am your husband. As I have always been meant to be.”
There were no words for that. Nothing but another kiss, and curling herself back up on his chest, letting her eyes close in contentment.
That feeling she had experienced teased at her. It was difficult to summon outside of the moment, but she tried her best, smiling inadvertently as she recalled the pleasure that had filled her. Her hips shifted; she was spent, truly she was, and yet, remembering how he had felt buried deep within her…
“Melethel?” Ereinion stirred beneath her. “What troubles you?”
Quickly, she shook her head. “Nothing troubles me. It was just - there was something different, when we were…something I had not ever felt before, and I was…”
She trailed off, realizing. Of course. She had had no room for thought at the time, but now it seemed so obvious.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh.”
He didn’t press - he waited for her to speak. Slowly, she lifted herself up again, and she could feel her eyes welling up.
“When we are ready to conceive,” she whispered. “I felt - it was something inside that I could open. If I willed it. When the time is right for us. I had known something of it and yet…it is as you said. It is not possible to describe in words.”
He didn’t look surprised. His hand came up to tuck a curl behind her ear, and his fingers lingered on her cheek. “It was so for me as well, my love. And like you, I was unsure of it at the time - though perhaps that is understandable.” The corner of his mouth twisted wryly. “But I felt the same. A part of myself that I could give to you beyond my body. And while it is ill to rush such things, we should consider that this respite - while both the enemy and we prepare ourselves - may be our best chance to know that joy.”
Linnea nodded soberly. Their people preferred to have children during times of peace, to ensure that both mother and father would have ample strength to devote to bearing and raising. Her heart again ached for Eressie, and for all those like her, left alone by the war. But she and Ereinion had spoken of it previously, how there was no way to know how long this war would endure. The enemy was cunning, and patient. He would not strike until he had confidence in victory.
“Soon, then,” she murmured, and he nodded back at her, smiling softly.
“Soon,” he agreed. “But not quite yet. We have time to enjoy these early days of our marriage. I must learn to be a husband first, before I learn to be a father.”
Linnea chuckled, and offered him a sly, teasing smile. “You seem to be well-schooled in all matters that a husband must be,” she said. “But perhaps we should conduct another test? I must also continue learning to be a wife, after all…”
There was a lilt in her voice - a hint of desire, that had blossomed in her when she had remembered their lovemaking. There was much more of the night yet before them, after all, and it was their wedding night. How else to spend those hours but in the practices of marriage?
He heard the desire, and it made him laugh, but she heard that same faint hint from him. And she smiled in welcome, as he rolled her over onto her back, rising over her and nestling his hips between her thighs.
Perhaps she was not entirely spent.
TBC....
#gil galad#rings of power#gil-galad#the rings of power#trop fanfiction#gil-galad x ofc#fanfic#fanfiction#fix it fic#fix it au
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The Mystery of Chopper Base foreshadowed Ezra's exile.
Ezra's anxieties about Malachor brought him to Zeb. He was headed to a Sith temple with Kanan and Ahsoka, and it was with Zeb that Ezra was able to show his more vulnerable side.
He said it. "I don't know when we'll be back. Or if we'll be back."
And the thing is...the Ezra who came back from Malachor is not the same Ezra.
The new Ezra that came back was traumatized, angry, defeated, grieving, and he blamed himself for just how sideways their mission to Malachor went. This new Ezra started wielding a green lightsaber and came very close to falling to the dark side if Kanan had not been there to pull him back from the edge.
This Ezra came back jaded and vengeful and guilt-ridden after Maul blinded Kanan, and he and Kanan had been forced to leave Ahsoka behind with Vader while the Sith temple collapsed around them.
This Ezra came back with a Maul shaped shadow doing everything possible to make Ezra his new apprentice.
This Ezra survived against Darth Vader for a second time (because someone else was there to save him).
Ezra was already grieving the death of his parents when Malachor happened. Malachor hurt everyone in his family. He brought Kanan back to Hera physically injured and forever changed, and he wasn't able to bring Ahsoka back to Rex at all.
But despite the grief that everyone was experiencing, they persevered. Hera continued on with the mission and Rex spent just as much time pulling Ezra back towards the light as Kanan and Sabine did.
Hera and Kanan's final conversation before Malachor ended up becoming a reality. Kanan regained his vision and was able to look at Hera in his final seconds of life.
Ahsoka and Rex's final conversation was the very first scene in the Twilight of the Apprentice, and it was over Space Facetime. Rex was so nervous about Ahsoka going without him and she had to remind him that she was not alone. Rex is used to mourning his brothers. He's done it thousands of time. He's used to seeing his own face die over and over again. Losing Ahsoka would be different though. She wasn't a clone trooper, but she was still a soldier just like him. She was his best friend, his closest ally, someone he trusted with his life more times than he could care to count. They were each other's sword and shield.
Ezra understands these bonds. It's what his bond with Sabine was becoming.
And all of them (with the exception of Kanan because my boy sacrificed his life to save the people he loved, and Ahsoka because we don't even know when she is, let alone where she is at this point) followed Ezra into battle to take Lothal back from the Empire. They freed Lothal from the grip of Darth Sidious, but Ezra didn't get to see it happen. He was somehow surviving a long ass trip through hyperspace with space whales and a very pissed off Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He spends ten years in exile, alone, on another planet in a distant galaxy with a ship full of stranded Imperials nearby and always ready to kill him, but he still manages to find a new family, traveling with them and protecting them, grieving his loss and becoming more attuned to the Force.
The Ezra that Sabine finds is so much like the Ezra that she first met on Lothal. He doesn't seem to be carrying a heavy burden, but he knows he needs to get back home because Thrawn is a Big Problem, and he's had ten years learning how to outsmart the Imperials and the Nightmothers.
He's returning home with a lightsaber that matches Kanan's and he's about to meet Kanan's son Jacen for the first time.
The empire is toppled now but he and Zeb will have plenty of war stories to trade when they see each other again, especially as the threat of the Empire's return is rising again.
#star wars rebels#ahsoka series#star wars rebels was always foreshadowing sabine becoming a jedi too#ahsoka was such a good series and i am so excited for season 2#and i can't wait to see ezra reuniting with his long lost family#jacen has only ever heard amazing stories about ezra bridger#and now he's finally going to meet him#star wars needs to start paying my therapy bills because it loves to break my brain on an emotional level#ahsoka tano#sabine wren#ezra bridger#zeb orrelios#convor convor convor#kanan jarrus#captain rex#jacen syndulla#hera syndulla#ahsoka's gotta deal with the mortis gods again it looks like and i'm so ready because mortis is my favorite arc
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Birthday Blues | Austin Butler x Reader
Pairing: austin butler x f!reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Summary: noticing her struggle with the loss and memory of her brother on his birthday, austin helps and comforts y/n with the celebration of his special day (requested)
Warnings: mentions of deceased siblings, descriptions of grief
Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request
A/N: it’s been so long since I’ve updated and I’m so sorry for that. I’ve missed writing so much and hope this is me getting back into my groove. I started this request ages ago but just now finished it. it’s felt so weird rounding out this fic about grief after hearing the news about liam (for any of my fellow directioners) and it’s just crazy to me how so many of the feelings and instances I wrote about in this fic have been a reality lately. I hope you’re all doing well whether you’ve been affected or not, and please remember to keep those you love close and to let them know how much you love them. to the anon who requested this, I hope this fic brings you comfort, thank you so much for requesting <3
Today’s the day. The day you’ve been anxiously awaiting for a while now. Every year it’s the same, it never seems to get easier for you no matter how hard you wish it would.
It’s your brother’s birthday, and it’s been a while since you’ve gotten to celebrate with him in person. He passed away and every year on his birthday you find yourself unable to function properly. Everyone tells you it gets better with time, but you’re still waiting for that to start kicking in.
There are some days where you find yourself so overcome with grief you can’t even find the right words to describe it, and there are other days where for a little while you almost forget he’s not here anymore. You yearn for those days, those days that feel like you’re floating and there’s nothing but calmness surrounding you.
You wish his birthday was one of those tranquil days.
As you move mechanically around the kitchen, doing your normal tasks as you would any other day, you find yourself trying not to fall apart.
Grief is a really funny thing. At times you believe your mourning period has passed and that that part of you that’s now missing has been patched and you’ll be able to handle this day on your own without any consolation. Other times you don’t even know how you’re able to stand up on your own and be expected to continue on. It’s like a balancing act, never knowing which way the scale is going to tip. Calm or devastated. Good or bad.
Pouring yourself something to drink, you think back on all the happy memories with your brother that you can. You know in your heart he wouldn’t want you to be sad today, or any day really. It’s just incredibly hard to not notice his absence, especially on his special day. It’s hard when you miss him so much and want nothing more than to celebrate with him instead of without.
Over the past few days you’ve tried not to focus too much on your brother’s birthday. You’ve kept busy and continued business as usual but you can’t deny the moments of sadness that crept in unannounced. You’ve talked to other family members about it and some of your friends too, a lot of them knowing what this day means to you and how hard it can be. You always keep up a brave face but it’s easier said than done on some days compared to others.
The sound of padded footsteps coming from your right breaks you out of your thoughts. When you turn your head you’re met with the soft smile on your boyfriend’s face. It’s impossible not to reciprocate it. You don’t know a soul on this Earth that’s ever been able to withstand a smile from Austin Butler.
“Hi, baby,” he says as he wraps his arms around you, his warmth and familiar scent immediately settling over you. Your body instantly relaxes against him, comfort beginning to course through your veins.
“Hi, Aus.” It comes out almost like a whisper and you curse yourself for already showing a sign of weakness. You promised yourself last night that you’d try to get through this day on your own, not wanting to distract Austin from any of his work or typical routine. Alas it’s not turning out how you hoped. That’s the thing about grief though, no matter how hard you try, you never do know when it’s going to come creeping back in.
Busying yourself with cleaning up, you ease yourself out of Austin’s grasp. For some reason you feel that if you stay that close to him, it won’t be long before your walls start crumbling down and you’ll both end up wrapped in devastation.
To be fair, you don’t even know if your boyfriend realizes what today is. You know you’ve mentioned it in passing, but with not wanting to make a big deal out of it you never really went into detail. You’ve talked to Austin about your brother before whether it be reminiscing about childhood memories or recalling an inside joke, but you always try to keep that devastation at bay.
The blonde hasn’t said anything about it recently and with his hectic schedule lately, you’re sure it hasn’t even crossed his mind. You’re not hurt by it, if anything you understand and appreciate it. It’s probably best if you handle today alone, in your own way.
A small frown adorns the corner of your lips and you make sure to turn your head so Austin doesn’t notice it. One thing about him is that he’s always able to pick up on your emotions and can tell when something’s wrong. Best plan of action is to just proceed as you normally would. You’re sure the actor has a million and one things to do today, so he should be out the door any minute now and you’ll be able to tackle the day however your head and heart deem fit.
“Are you hungry?” You say as chipper as you can while you start to open up a cabinet, ready to whip up anything your boyfriend would like. “I can make you your favorite or if you have to leave soon I can just make you something to take on the go.”
“No, I’m okay, thank you. I-I’m not working today.” You nearly bash your head into the cabinet door as you hear this. Your boyfriend was practically always working, especially now. So him saying this totally takes you by surprise.
“Why not?” You turn around and face Austin and just based off the look on his face you can tell he remembers what day it is. His eyes are so sincere and you nearly burst into tears because he hasn’t even said anything and yet you know exactly why he isn’t working. Why he most definitely told his manager and whoever else that today specifically was off limits for any meetings or shoots.
“I took the day off. I know I haven’t brought it up lately and you probably thought I forgot, but I know what today is, what it means and how important it is to you. I just wanted to be here with you and to let you know if you need me that I’ll be right here. I won’t let you deal with today on your own, sweetheart.” His tone is soft and he reaches out to caress your cheeks, wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized slipped out in the process.
“Austin I-,” you gulp, emotion rising fast in your throat as you look into his blue eyes and feel the empathy radiating off of him. “You didn’t have to do that. I know how busy you are and I know it must’ve taken a lot to have your day cleared. Really, it’s fine if you want to go to work. I-I can handle it, I’m fine-“
Your voice cracks and in that same moment you feel like part of your heart does as well.
Austin’s hands are tangled in your hair in an instant as he pulls you in close, holding your head against his shoulder as you begin to fall apart in his arms. There it is, one of those grief stricken moments you swore you wouldn’t allow to take over you today. So much for holding it together.
Clearly your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind though, and for that you’ll be eternally grateful. You let yourself go, let your emotions go, as he whispers affirmations in your ear. Softly shushing you and assuring you that it’s ok to let it all out. It’s almost scary how easy it is for you to do this as well. To let yourself be vulnerable like this. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way. If you’re going to fall apart in anyone’s arms, there’s no one better than Austin’s to do it in.
After a while of being wrapped up in the blonde’s arms and after your sobs begin to turn into soft hiccups, you feel collected enough to take a small step back and start to wipe away any remaining tears.
“I’m sorry, Aus,” you whisper, feeling a little bad for just falling apart like this. You know he doesn’t mind, he wouldn’t have taken the day off if he did, but even still.
“Hey, hey, hey, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Austin reaches out and swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, collecting tears that haven’t yet fallen. “I’m here for you, and if that means being a human tissue for the day then I’m fine with that.”
A small laugh bubbles out of your throat and the sound makes Austin smile. He loves your laugh and he’d do anything to hear it, especially on a day like this.
“I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I know you’re no stranger to grief when losing a loved one, but I still appreciate you taking this in stride and just being there for me. This day it’s-it’s-,” your breath catches in your throat, but you clear it, not wanting your emotions to take over again. “It’s hard, but you certainly make it a lot less difficult to deal with and for that I’m grateful.”
“Of course, baby. I’m here for you, always. When you lose someone you love, it’s difficult enough to deal with, yet alone trying to deal with it on your own. I promise you I’ll always be here for you on this day and every other one you may need me for as long as you’ll have me.”
A small smile breaks out on your lips and you don’t know a better response than wrapping your arms around Austin and squeezing him with all the love and appreciation you can muster. You can’t even imagine a day without him. You’ll have him forever if you’re able to.
Once the two of you break apart you watch as Austin begins to say something, but then appears to hesitate. His eyes meet yours and you start to wonder what it is he wants to say to you.
“Now I don’t ever want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but over the past couple days I’ve been thinking about what we could do to celebrate your brother today. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to take you somewhere.” The blonde takes a breath and then reaches for your hand, squeezing once before continuing. “You trust me, right?”
You’ve never felt more sure of anything than you do right now in this moment when you say, “Yes, with my whole heart.”
Your boyfriend smiles and you feel your stomach flutter with both gratitude and anticipation for what he has planned. No matter where it is he ends up taking you, you know with one hundred percent certainty that he’s doing it because he loves you and cares for you in a way you never even thought possible. That fact alone is what carries you out of that kitchen and through the front door.
*****
When Austin pulls the car into the parking lot of the flower shop connected to the cemetery your brother is buried in, you feel your heart begin to swell.
On the drive over, you began to brainstorm ideas of where it is your boyfriend was taking you. There was a small part of you that hoped he wasn’t driving you to some restaurant or your family’s house to try and take your mind off today, but that he was taking you right to this very place. In your mind, there’s no better way to celebrate and remember your brother than celebrating with him as much as you’re physically able to.
Not a lot of people find comfort in visiting a grave in a cemetery, but it’s one of the only ways you’re able to feel some sort of closeness to your brother. He might not be visible to you, but there’s something about sitting there and just talking out loud to him that allows you to feel some semblance of peace.
“Now I know everyone feels differently when it comes to visiting graves and doing stuff like this. So if you’re at all uncomfortable being here, you just let me know and I’ll turn this car around, we’ll go right back home, and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life for ever crossing any boundaries with you.”
A breathy laughs escapes you and you shake your head as you reach out and hold Austin’s hand in yours. “No, this is perfect. I very much appreciate you even thinking of doing this. I haven’t been able to come out here in a while, especially not alone, so I’m grateful you brought me here and that you’re willing to be by my side during it.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiles.
Austin turns off the car and the two of you make your way inside, the smell of fresh flowers instantly hitting your nose and you breath in deeply, wanting to hold onto it. It’s crazy to think there could be something so beautiful and alive surrounded by a place so sorrowful and morbid. Somehow, you think there’s something poetic to be found in that.
Both you and Austin wander around the shop for a while, taking in all the gorgeous arrangements decorated specifically for different types of family members. You see plaques for parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and then finally siblings. It hurts your heart to know people lose their loved ones in a blink of an eye every day. No one is safe from the horrors and unfairness of the world, but you wish with everything you’ve got that they were.
You wish nearly every day that your brother had been.
As you walk further down the aisle, you find yourself getting stopped by a bouquet. It stands out from the others, it’s almost as if the colors and arrangement of it were calling out to you. One look at it and you know instantly it’s the one you’d like to get for your brother.
“Aus, this one’s perfect,” you say softly, stopping your boyfriend in his tracks. He looks over at it and smiles fondly. He thinks it’s perfect almost as much as you do.
Austin instantly grabs it and the two of you walk over to the checkout counter. You reach into your purse so you can grab your wallet, but the actor holds his hand out and shakes his head. “Let me, for his birthday.”
Tears immediately spring to your eyes at the sentiment and all you’re able to do in response is nod your head slightly and give Austin a wobbly smile. You don’t know why you’re so surprised over all of this. This is who Austin is, it’s who he always has been, and it’s who he always will be.
*****
The gravel road that winds every which way through the cemetery causes the car to shake just slightly as Austin follows your instructions to get to your brother’s grave. You’re not entirely convinced that’s the sole reason your stomach starts to knot though.
Even though it’s been a while since you’ve visited this place, the moment Austin pulled up to the gates it was like you were here just yesterday. The landmarks are all too familiar, the shapes of other people’s headstones, and the view of other grieving families scattered around bring everything back instantly.
As you look around and tell Austin to pull over to the right up ahead, you start to feel a little lightheaded. In your mind you can see the day you buried your brother so vividly. You can hear the sniffles of family and friends and feel the slight breeze in the air as he was lowered into the ground.
Even though you appreciate being able to still somewhat spend time with your brother here, it does make it all seem so much more real. When you don’t come and visit, sometimes you’re able to pretend that he’s still here, still alive. But the minute you see that headstone, you’re reminded that he’s not, and it gets harder to shake the sadness.
Austin puts the car in park and you both sit in silence for a moment. He watches you look out the window, knowing all too well the emotions running through you right now. He gives you a minute more before speaking up.
“Do you want me to wait in the car or is it okay to come with you?” His deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you blink several times before looking over at him.
“No, come with me, please? I-I want you there.” Austin nods his head and exits the car, coming over to the passenger side and helping you out of the car as you hold onto your brother’s bouquet.
Grass crunches under your shoes as you walk the few feet to your brother’s grave, and a soft gasp passes through your lips as you come face to face with the headstone that’s seared itself into your mind forever.
Kneeling down, you brush off the small bits of leaves and grass that’ve taken residence on the light gray stone. Your fingers trace over the letters imprinted within it and with each passing letter you feel your heart squeeze inside your chest.
It’s so unfair how life can change so drastically in an instant. You remember the last conversation you had with your brother and you wish you would’ve known that would be the last time you spoke to him. You would’ve said more, would’ve memorized more about his voice and the way he laughed. You would’ve held on to anything and everything you could if it meant keeping even one more tiny thing of him close to you.
Lifting up the bouquet in front of you, you make sure everything in it looks perfect before placing it by the headstone and then standing back up by your boyfriend. The flowers look beautiful and you hate that you can’t physically give them to your brother on his special day. You just hope he’s somewhere looking down at you and seeing how loved he still is. How he’ll always be celebrated.
Suddenly, you feel Austin softly place his hand on your lower back and begin to rub circles on it. This is something he often does when he can tell you’re sad or getting overwhelmed and just need some sort of comfort. It always helps calm you down and you appreciate Austin doing it in this moment.
Austin truly cares so much for you and it blows your mind every single day how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life. Everything from the grand gestures to the smallest little things he does for you, you find yourself being so grateful for it all. He’s such a wonderful guy and you smile thinking about how well he would’ve gotten along with your brother.
You know instantly your brother would’ve adored him. He’d definitely try to play the protective brother card and give off the impression he’d never approve, but in your heart you know Austin would’ve had him wrapped around his finger, much like how he has you. You could see them hanging out and watching sports together, talking about music and films, and overall finding such a genuine friendship within each other.
The thought brings a smile to your face and you let out a small laugh thinking about all the chaos they’d get up to together.
Austin notices and his own curious smile adorns his lips as he wonders what you could possibly be thinking about. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“I know you never got to meet him,” you start, a small tear trailing down your cheek as you take your eyes off the headstone in front of you and look towards your boyfriend. “But he’d really like you.”
A small puff of air leaves Austin as he takes in your words. In an instant he has you wrapped in his arms and his lips pressed against your forehead. “Oh, baby. I wish with all my heart I could’ve met him.”
You nod your head silently against him, knowing with everything you’ve got that he genuinely means it.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Aus,” you whisper, your words a soft rumble against the blonde’s chest. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I appreciate it so much.”
“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome. I’d do practically anything for you—especially this—and especially today.”
You know Austin’s unfortunately no stranger to grief. He knows the pain of losing a loved one just as much as you do and you think it’s so kind of him to do all of this with you when you know it probably puts him back in his own memories of loss. The thought alone makes you squeeze him a little harder and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Austin.”
“I love you too,” he smiles. “Y’know if you wanna do this every year for your brother’s birthday, we definitely can. If you want to, that is. I know it’ll never change the fact he’s no longer with us, but maybe celebrating him like this and coming to leave some flowers at his grave every year can help you feel a little bit closer to him in a way.”
“Yeah, I’d really love that. I think he would too.” You smile up at your boyfriend and take in his thoughtful proposition. You’d love to come visit your brother’s grave like this for his birthday every year. Like Austin said, it’ll never change the fact he’s not here with you anymore, but at least it gives you something to hold onto. It gives you something to keep your brother just a little bit closer to you, and you’d do anything to make that happen.
“It’s a deal then,” Austin says before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. After pulling away he crouches down and plants himself on the grass. “C’mon, no more birthday blues. Let’s sit for a while. I’d love for you to tell me more about your brother.”
Your heart soars at his interest. Most people would want to flee this situation. Get as far away from a place like this and ignore the fact someone’s passed on completely. Not Austin. He faces it head first. He knows it’s hard, but he also knows it can be healing to do and it can mean a lot to someone too. He can tell by the look on your face he’s made the right call, and he’s grateful he’s able to be here for you in whatever way you need him.
“Well, where do I begin?” You wonder as you sit down next to the blonde. You rack your brain and try to decide on what story or fun fact you should share first. God knows you have an endless supply of them tucked away in your memory. Some funny, some sad, and some downright disturbing in the best way possible.
You glance over at Austin, settling on one and as you go to start sharing one of your favorite memories of your brother, you watch as your boyfriend completely tunes in to whatever it is you’re about to say. Nothing else seems to matter in this moment to him and that alone makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let go.
Yeah, you think in your head, in a way speaking to your brother. You definitely would’ve liked him.
#austin butler#austin butler x reader#austin butler x you#austin butler x y/n#austin butler fanfic#austin butler imagines#austin butler fanfiction#request
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Me seeing you make a new CRK post:
Yeah it’s been too long! I had a lot of fun back when I wrote Mournful Blizzard, and rereading it made me wanna fill out a request.
But also, I was playing through the newest chapter and realized-
Well, Golden Cheese Cookie basically is just a canonical yandere.
This woman loved her people so much that a mass genocide of their homeland could not get them away from her.
Golden Cheese Cookie was so distraught over the loss of those whom she loved that she gathered their bodies and snatched their souls and built them an endless, golden purgatory where she could spoil them for all time with indulgences beyond mortal comprehension.
Even outright betraying her doesn’t stem that endless golden love. Death doesn’t stem her love. Nothing can stem her love.
She refers to her own friends and citizens as “treasures”, and is always working to accumulate more- even one or two acts of kindness towards her is enough to get you put on the “I would gather the shattered bits of your body and stitch them back together” list.
Like, holy shit- if that’s not yandere, then what is?
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no but really. riko's "lessons" on grief crumbling the second kevin finds out about riko's death though!!!! all of that suppression, all of the buried feelings, all of the time spent avoiding and hiding and concealing left to rise to the surface the second riko is dead!!!
i am convinced kevin freaks out in a way he's never freaked out before, in a way that sincerely shocks anyone who witnesses it, once he finds out riko is gone. in a way that subtly begs the question about inpatient care and an extended leave of absence and rehab. in a way that nobody else really understands because it was riko of all people to trigger this meltdown, but in a way that is genuinely terrifying
that codependency, even if undercut by relief that the abuse is over, does not go away without a freak out!!
-childhood in the nest anon
oh that's such a good point. Especially if Riko was successful in not letting Kevin mourn, if Kevin never really grieved his mother because Riko said, "You have me."
Like, what if the whole basis of Kevin's avoidance of grieving his mom was based on Riko saying, "So long as I'm here, you don't have to worry about her." Imagine every time he almost cried, every time he almost said I miss my mom out loud, Riko would grip his arm or his hand or his face and say something to the effect of, "Your grief is a waste of time and the only thing that matters is me, is us, is exy."
And then Riko's dead? And oh, he remembers this feeling that he'd only felt in vague bursts before, buried so deep he couldn't even be sure he felt it at all. The words, "Riko is dead," sound like "Your mom is dead". They found her body this morning. They found his body last night. There's nothing they could've done to save her. He was dead when the ambulance arrived.
It's like this doubled grief, all the things he'd never been allowed to feel for his mom suddenly coming back up, and like, these are feelings that Kevin thought he was too young to have felt. He thought he was too young to remember, he thought he was too young to understand but now he's reminded that, no, you felt it. You understood. You just weren't allowed to feel the monumental loss that you'd faced. You weren't allowed to work through this gnawing icy pain in your heart. And now that Riko's dead, you're allowed. You're free.
But now Riko's dead. Now Riko is dead, and his mom is dead, and fuck Riko for making him feel both of their deaths at the same time because he shouldn't exist in the same world that his mother does. The pain he feels for them both should be incomparable.
I like to imagine that for just a few moments after Kevin is told, he goes into shock, completely and utterly unable to function with the knowledge that Riko is dead.
"Riko killed himself last night," David says, and Abby is by his side for backup, for protection, for Kevin's safety. Betsy is on speed dial. "They won't tell me much, but they think it happened fast."
Maybe Abby nudges him because nothing he says will be okay, or good enough, or soft enough so as to not destroy Kevin. And he hears the words. He knew they were coming. They had to come, this was always going to happen. This was always how it was going to end. But his brain goes quiet and his hands go numb and he smiles a weak smile. He doesn't feel those words at all.
"Okay," He nods, like he's just been told that it's raining outside or he's wearing odd socks. "Thank you, Coach."
"Kevin, did you..." Abby's voice is soft as she reaches out. "Did you hear what David said?"
His eyes are empty, someplace far away, but his voice does not shake as he says, "I did."
For a while, maybe, they don't let him leave the room. He's quiet, disassociating, but not yet crying. Not yet throwing things around the room like David expected. Not yet begging for a bottle of vodka.
Does Renee come to the door first, or Neil? Does Abby answer the door because David asked her to, and what snaps him out of it? Is it Renee saying, "I called Jean. I told him to avoid the news," or is it Neil saying, "Have you told him yet?" that snaps him back into the real world, back to reality, to Jean can't find out, to Jean is alone, to Neil knows, to oh my god to this is real to Riko's dead and Riko's dead and Riko's dead.
Everything is familiar and nothing is the same. His body tells him he’s allowed to mourn his mom now, but he can’t handle it, and he can’t handle Riko being dead and Jean not knowing and Riko being dead and his mom isn’t here and he just. can’t. get his head around it. It’s all of a sudden messy and loud and confusing. He can’t let himself think about how Riko probably didn’t kill himself, he can’t ask himself why Neil knew before he did. He can’t believe it. If he believes it then it’s real and it’s his fault and who has him now? That was Riko’s job. To stop him from mourning so he could keep his eye on the prize and now he has it; They won the season. He put all his focus on exy, and look where it got him. All those lessons, all that burying of his feelings and compartmentalising to deal with it later hits him at once like a fucking truck and I think Kevin had the breakdowns of all breakdowns that day.
I think whatever happened to Jean on his own in that dorm room would’ve happened to Kevin, and more. He’s lucky that he wasn’t alone, I suppose, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. He’s tall, and he’s strong, and his head isn’t in the room when he’s throwing shit at the walls and screaming like it’ll help make things make sense. He doesn’t see where the chair lands. He doesn’t see who the books are thrown at. There is a chance that not one person in that room has ever seen anyone lose their mind so quickly, and intensely before. Because it’s not just Riko, it’s his mom, it’s his childhood, it’s his future, it’s his abuser, it’s his brother, it’s his identity and purpose and fuck, it’s Riko. Who is he without Riko?
If I keep going this will just end up far too long but oh lordy lord I think you’re absolutely right
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"Soulmates" Part 1
Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader
Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.
A/N: This text combines three chapters written at different times, so there might be slight differences in style. Also, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes))
Warnings: Shitty humor
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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the picturesque town. It was a quaint, almost idyllic place, with its cobblestone streets and charming old buildings—a far cry from the darkness that lurked within the reader's soul. She stood at the edge of town, a lone figure amidst the bustle of the afternoon crowd. Tall and imposing, with an air of quiet confidence that set her apart from the ordinary townsfolk, she surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
The Y/n was not here by choice. No, she had been sent—a pawn in a game she had no desire to play. Her parents, in their infinite wisdom—or perhaps, their utter lack thereof—had deemed it necessary to exile her to Nevermore Academy, a school for misfits and outcasts. It was a punishment disguised as a solution, a way to rid themselves of a daughter whose darkness they could no longer abide.
And so, here she was, alone in a town that reeked of desperation and decay, a stranger in a strange land. It was a bitter irony, she thought, that a creature such as herself—a creature of the night, born to roam the shadows—should find herself so utterly exposed in the harsh light of day. But she was not one to dwell on self-pity, nor was she inclined to mourn the loss of a home she had long outgrown. No, she would embrace this new chapter of her existence with the same ferocity that she embraced life itself.
With a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes, the Y/n turned her gaze towards the looming silhouette of Nevermore Academy, its spires reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a long-forgotten deity. And as she took her first steps towards her new prison, she couldn't help but wonder what twisted fate awaited her within its hallowed halls.
*Y/n POV*
As I stepped into the imposing entrance hall of Nevermore Academy, I was greeted by the sight of a young girl. She was dressed in the school uniform, her blond hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Welcome to Nevermore Academy," she said with a wry smile, extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Enid Sinclair. And you must be the new arrival."
I nodded, returning her handshake. Enid's warmth and charm were a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hung me like a shroud.
"Nice to meet you," I replied with a forced smile. There's no point in being rude, this school is my last resort, and it's better to try to be nicer to people. "I must admit, I wasn't sure if anyone would meet me."
" I always give a tour of the school to new students, especially since you will be my roommate." A smile spread across her face. God, I wish I could be as carefree "It's going to be so much fun, you, me and Wednesday are three new best friends".
Three best friends? Well, that's one way to look at it—a trio of misfits ready to conquer the world, or at least survive sharing a room.
"Wow, lucky me," I muttered inwardly, plastering on a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "I've always wanted to be part of a trio. How did you know?"
I forced another polite smile, masking my inner cynicism with practiced ease. "Okay, we can't stand here all day. Let's go. "
After walking around all the main areas of the school, Enid and I headed towards our room. The whole time we were walking, I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was definitely going to be interesting. Enid had her own issues, but I'd always been attracted to people who looked at the world with an unhealthy amount of optimism. Talking to her should dilute my morbid thoughts with a touch of sweet idiocy. For being alone with myself again does me no good, though it gives me a lot of pleasure.
“So, roomie, ready to see your new abode?” - Enid said with a smile, her hand resting on the doorknob. With a casual shrug, I followed her into the room.
A huge room greeted us, with beds on both sides. The left side was a riot of colors, what I would call “colorblind worst nightmare” It was a cacophony of hues that defied description. Plush toys adorned one wall. Well at least it is not dakimakura with half-naked characters from anime or furi costumes. On the other side of the room, the atmosphere was stark—black linens on the bed, a desk, and a typewriter. Its practically untouched. It felt more like a museum piece than a living space, devoid of any trace of personality. Enid had mentioned that the other girl had only recently moved in…
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM ROOM?” – Enid asked in irritation.
Her voice startling me out of my thoughts. Distractedly looking around the room, I completely missed the girl who was tearing off colored stickers from the right half of the huge window. It must be Wednesday.
“Dividing our room equally,” replied Wednesday, her voice dripping with disdain. She kicked the last of the colored paper to Enid's side for emphasis. "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side." She finished in a calm tone, as she returned to the desk at her side of the room.
God, I love drama.
“I...” I could literally see Enid's ears steaming right now.
“Silence would be appreciated.” Wednesday spoke as she quickly cut her roommate off. "This is my writing time."
I like this school already.
“Your writing time ? ” Enid asked, raising an eyebrow.
Wednesday rolled up her sleeves as she situated herself in front of her typewriter. “I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same your vlog might be coherent.” she slides the carriage of the typewriter to the side as she continued, “I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.”
She read serial killer diaries? One point to the goth girl.
Enid clenched her fists “I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love.”
“Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” Wednesday stood up from her desk as she moved infront of Enid. “They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures.”
“Uh, you mean emoji's?” a small smile appears on Enid face “It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you.”
“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” She continues “By the way, there are two D's in Addams." she moved back over to her desk. “If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.”
“Ahem”- as much as I'd love for this delightful show to continue, I can't just stand there like an idiot with things to do. I could certainly settle down nicely on my suitcase to brew some coffee and continue watching this wonderful drama, but I think sooner or later they'll notice me.
“Oh, sorry about that please, I'm just not used to this attitude. Wednesday, meet Y/n. She's going to live with us too.”
“That's okay, Enid, you can continue this lovely conversation, very intriguing actually. All I need to do is put my things somewhere and ideally lie down myself. The long drive and the splendid but somewhat drawn-out tour, has tired me out.”
Wednesday turned to me. “Nice to meet you, now if you'll excuse it’s my writing time,” she said, before turning back to her typewriter. She began methodically tapping the keys of her typewriter.
I smiled to myself, amused by the interaction. These two were definitely something else.
“Ms. Thornhill has decided that your bed will be on Wednesday's side, there's more room and the closet is close by. Bed should be arriving soon, but in the meantime, you can lay out your things, the outer two doors are yours.”
“Got it, okay then, that's what I'll do for now.”
Taking the suitcase in my hands I headed over to the closet, starting to put things away. I've always had a problem with this, not that I don't like it on the contrary, pedantically folding shirt to shirt, pants to pants, has always calmed me down. Things in the closet should look like they're on the counter of a boutique. If something doesn't look right, I can't sleep well.
Enid put on a song. I guess this is another one of God's tests for all the sins I've done. Don't get me wrong, I like music, but on rare occasions. People who play it on a regular basis to soundtrack their daily routine are the real psychopaths.
“Turn it off!” Wednesday gets up from her chair and heads over to Enid.
I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the exchange. It was moments like this that made me grateful for immortality. Trying not to attract attention, I peeked out from behind the locker door, amused by the unfolding drama.
“This is your final warning!”
As she got too close Enid raised her hands and let out her rainbow painted nails out a claw. “Don't mess with me. This kitty’s got claws and I’m not afraid to use them.”
Suddenly the door swings open and a woman walks into the room.
“Good evening girls.” She looks around the room throwing a glance first at me and then at Wednesday. “I wanted to make sure that Wednesday and Y/n was settling in...”
She walks to the middle of the room, kicking up mud from her shoes on the wooden floor…. It drives me insane.
“I’m Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome.”
“She's been smothering us with hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep”.
Such unconcealed aggression, I like it.
“Enid did a great job of showing and telling me everything, thank her so much, and it's nice to meet you,” I interjected, wanting to move the conversation along.
Ms. Thornhill turned to me, offering a warm smile. “I'm very glad it went well.”
“The only thing I would like to ask about is the bed. I wouldn't really want to sleep on the floor on the first day in such a beautiful place. It would have dampened all the excitement I got out of today.”
“Oh right, the guys were supposed to bring it, but it looks like they're running late. I'll have to find them again and tell them.”
At this rate, I was going to sleep on the floor tonight.
“Ms. Thornhill, why do we need the guys? Why don't you just show me where to get it, and I'll take it from there? I think I'm strong enough to do that,” I replied with a sweet smile.
She looked at me in disbelief. I smiled a little, letting her catch a glimpse of my fangs.
“Ah, okay, I didn't realize right away. Not all vampires who are in this school have abilities such as strength or speed, so...Let's go,” she said, turning around and heading for the door. I followed her, casting a disdainful glance at the dirt left on the floor.
Who even does things like that?
Y/n POV
The walk with Ms. Thornhill was uneventful, except for her curious glances, which I pretended not to notice. She seemed… overly friendly, and her cheery disposition grated against every instinct I had. There was something unsettling in how her smile lingered just a bit too long. Still, I played the obedient new student—sweet smiles, polite nods, not even a hint of fangs. It wasn’t hard to find the storage area, cluttered with dusty furniture and half-forgotten relics from who knows how long ago. With little more than a gesture, I hefted the bedframe onto my shoulder, making it look far easier than it should have been.
As I walked back through the hallways of Nevermore, I couldn’t help but scan the dimly lit corridors and high arched ceilings. This place was dripping with history and secrets—I could practically taste it in the air. I wondered what kind of skeletons were hiding in these closets and whether any of them were literal. The thought amused me enough to crack a smile, which I quickly smothered when I caught sight of the door to our room.
Returning to find Enid attempting to cheerfully hang more decorations—and failing spectacularly in the face of Wednesday’s withering glares—was almost worth the trouble. Almost. I stepped into the room, set down the bedframe with a soft thud, and stretched slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh that earned me a sideways glance from both girls. I raised an eyebrow at Wednesday, who, naturally, looked unimpressed.
“You’re back,” she stated flatly, her attention already returning to the clack of typewriter keys. “I’d begun hoping you’d gotten lost and decided to stay that way.”
I grinned, leaning casually against the wall as I met her icy gaze. “Oh, did you miss me already, Wednesday? I’m touched.” I let my words drip with playful mockery, watching for her reaction.
She didn’t even pause her typing. “I don’t miss nuisances. They have a way of making themselves known whether one wishes it or not.”
“Well, it’s good to know I’ve made an impression,” I replied lightly, crossing my arms. “I do so hate being forgettable.”
There it was—a slight pause in her keystrokes. Barely perceptible, but I saw it. Victory. She resumed typing, but I could see the muscles in her jaw tense, and that alone was worth every ounce of effort. Behind me, Enid let out an exaggerated groan.
“Can you two not flirt for five minutes?” Enid asked, half-exasperated and half-amused as she tossed another garish pillow onto her bed.
“Flirting?” I said innocently, a hand coming to my chest. “Enid, I think you’ve misunderstood me. I was simply trying to have a civil conversation.”
“Your idea of civil conversation seems to involve needling people until they bleed,” Wednesday remarked coolly, finally glancing my way. “I’m sure you’re quite proud of yourself.”
“Oh, very,” I said, flashing a grin that showed just the hint of fang. “But I only needle people who are interesting. Take that as a compliment.”
Her expression didn’t change, but there was a spark in her dark eyes. A dangerous, calculating spark. “Compliments from you hold about as much value as a counterfeit coin. Useless and possibly diseased.”
I tilted my head, letting my smile widen. “And yet you’ve pocketed it anyway.”
“Enough!” Enid interjected, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m already regretting my decision to be roommates with either of you.”
“I thought we were best friends, Enid?” I teased, giving her a mock-wounded look. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.
As the brief silence fell, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter, the clack of the keys resuming with renewed vigor. I moved to finish setting up my space, feeling her presence keenly even as she pretended, I didn’t exist. But I knew better. She’d noticed me, whether she liked it or not. And I intended to keep it that way.
I focused on arranging the few belongings I had, keeping one eye on my two roommates. Enid flitted around, determined to keep the atmosphere upbeat despite the thickening tension, while Wednesday remained stoic, her fingers tapping out words with relentless precision. The mechanical clatter of the typewriter filled the room, a fitting soundtrack to our peculiar dynamic.
As I stowed the last of my clothes, I moved to the shared windowsill. Half of it, Wednesday’s half, was bare and colorless, just like the rest of her side. I dragged a finger across the divider she’d drawn—black tape down the middle, stark and deliberate. When she’d divided the room, she hadn’t left any margin for negotiation. That was fine. I wasn’t one to negotiate either.
“Did you choose the décor yourself?” I asked, tone light but teasing. “It really says a lot about you.”
The typewriter stopped mid-sentence, and her head turned, her expression a mask of cold detachment. “If by ‘a lot’ you mean ‘nothing,’ then you are correct. My surroundings reflect my disregard for frivolity.”
I leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed, giving her a slow once-over. “Yes, I see that. Stark, somber, a touch of morbidity… What’s next, Wednesday? Iron bars over your window? A ‘keep out’ sign? Or is this already your version of a welcome mat?”
“Those who need signs to warn them of danger are already too foolish to avoid it,” she retorted, her voice like ice. She didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of her attention settle on me like a dare.
“Danger? That sounds intriguing.” I stepped closer, deliberately closing the space between us. “But I’d rather find out for myself than take your word for it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she’d lash out. Instead, she simply pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape and stood. “Are you always this insufferable?” she asked, stepping closer herself. We were nearly face-to-face now, her glare as sharp as a blade.
“Only when I’m provoked,” I said, my voice softening, the challenge in it unmistakable. “Or intrigued.”
For a heartbeat, I thought she might reach for one of her knives. It wouldn’t have surprised me. But then she stepped back, and the flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by a cold, composed exterior. “Intrigue is a fleeting distraction. You’ll tire of it soon enough.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I murmured, watching her turn her back to me and return to her typewriter. I had to give it to her; she was disciplined. She’d withdrawn from the confrontation as if it hadn’t fazed her, as if the moment hadn’t happened. But it had.
Enid broke the silence, plopping down onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t this supposed to be like… the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
“I don’t recall asking for friendship,” Wednesday replied without looking up.
“And I don’t recall rejecting it,” I added with a smirk, earning a scoff from Wednesday.
“See?” Enid grinned, ever the optimist. “Progress! I’m telling you, we’re going to be the best trio ever. Just give it time.”
“Optimism is a fool’s currency,” Wednesday stated, resuming her typing. “It’s usually spent too freely and leaves the owner penniless.”
“Good thing I have plenty to spare,” Enid shot back, unfazed. She turned to me. “Y/n, you’ll see. She’s all doom and gloom now, but she’ll warm up eventually.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I said, letting the implication linger. “Though I have to admit, I like her just the way she is.”
Wednesday’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second, and my grin widened. There it was again—the tell that she was paying attention, even if she pretended otherwise.
Enid reached for her phone, likely ready to drown out the tension with music or social media, but she paused, her expression curious. “So, Y/n… what brought you to Nevermore?”
“Exile,” I said simply, my voice taking on a darker edge. “I’m here because my family thought it would be safer to have me… away.”
Enid blinked, unsure whether I was joking. “Safer for who?”
“Exactly.” I allowed a flicker of my fangs to show, then shrugged. “But this place isn’t so bad. It might even grow on me.”
“It’s full of disappointments,” Wednesday said coolly, not missing a beat. “Don’t let the shadows fool you.”
“Disappointments keep things interesting,” I replied, stepping back toward my side of the room. “And I’ve always been drawn to interesting things.”
I felt her eyes on me even after she turned back to her writing. This was going to be fun. Dangerous, maybe—but undeniably fun.
The next morning, the air was crisp, and a thin layer of fog crept around the gothic towers of Nevermore Academy. I found myself sitting on the edge of my freshly delivered bed, lacing up my boots. The rest of the room was quiet, but I could feel a watchful presence. Turning slightly, I caught Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror; she was silently observing me while pretending to prepare her things. Her eyes were intense as ever, like she was sizing me up, waiting for me to make the first move. It amused me, and I made no effort to hide my grin.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased, breaking the tension in the room.
She blinked, a slow, deliberate motion that barely disguised her disdain. “Please spare me your nauseating pleasantries.”
“Why, Wednesday, it almost sounds like you didn’t sleep well.” I stood, stretching. “I’d say I’m hurt by that, but I do recall you typing well into the night. Plotting murder, perhaps?”
“If I were plotting murder, you wouldn’t have woken up,” she replied with a deadpan expression.
I laughed softly, loving how quick she was. “Noted. I’ll try to be more deserving of your mercy.” I leaned closer as I passed her on the way to the door. “For now.”
“Don’t push your luck,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was far from indifferent. Oh, this was definitely going to be an interesting place.
The hallway was bustling with other students, each an oddity in their own right—shapeshifters, psychics, sirens, and more. I navigated the throng with ease, catching glimpses of curious eyes that lingered just a moment too long. Whispers followed me. New arrivals always attracted attention, and I wasn’t exactly the type to blend in.
“Y/n!” Enid’s cheery voice pierced the noise, and she bounded over like a hyperactive puppy, practically glowing with excitement. “How did you sleep? Oh! You’re going to love breakfast here—it’s the best part of the day!”
“I’m surprised you managed to sleep at all with the ambiance,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I half-expected bats to swoop down from the rafters.
“Oh, they’ve tried.” She shrugged with a wide smile. “But seriously, come on! The sausages are to die for.”
I followed her, letting Enid’s chatter wash over me. She was like a rainbow in this dreary place, and, strangely, I found her optimism a welcome contrast. Wednesday walked a few steps behind us, silent and brooding as ever. It was almost comforting.
The cafeteria was a storm of voices, laughter, and clinking trays. Enid led me through the throng of students, her energy a stark contrast to the brooding architecture of Nevermore. We found a spot at a small table near one of the tall, stained-glass windows. As I settled in, a presence made itself known—a girl with sleek black hair, crimson-tinted sunglasses, and a confident air that turned heads without effort. She walked up, holding her tray like she owned the place.
“Mind if I join?” she asked, but it was rhetorical. She was already sitting down, her eyes on me.
Enid perked up. “Oh! Y/n, this is Yoko Tanaka. Yoko, meet Y/n. She’s new.”
“Yoko,” I repeated, my gaze trailing over her with casual interest. I extended a hand, playing along. “Nice to meet you.”
Her grip was cool, steady. She didn’t let go right away, and her lips curled into a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine. So, Enid’s newest roommate, huh? Welcome to the madhouse.”
I returned her smile, undeterred by the playful challenge in her tone. “Thanks. From what I’ve seen, I’m going to fit right in.”
“Really?” Yoko’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. “It takes a lot to fit in here. But something tells me you’ll manage.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not... ordinary, are you?”
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I might,” she replied, the light catching the edge of her sunglasses. “Most newcomers are easy to read. But you? You’re a little... more.”
Wednesday, who had been quietly picking at her food, suddenly spoke up. “If you two are done exchanging veiled flirtations, there are more important matters at hand.”
I turned my gaze to her, a smirk playing on my lips. “You know, Wednesday, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
“Jealousy is a pointless emotion,” she said flatly, though her eyes seemed to darken. “I simply despise wasted time.”
“Oh, so you’d rather spend your time... constructively?” I asked, feigning deep interest. “Writing your next bestseller or analyzing the cafeteria’s murder statistics?”
She set her fork down with deliberate precision. “Both. I find productivity in all things. Unlike some people who waste their breath on hollow banter.”
“See?” I leaned forward conspiratorially, turning to Yoko. “This is what I get for trying to lighten the mood.”
Yoko laughed, a rich, throaty sound that drew a few glances. “You two are something. But don’t worry—I enjoy the kind of banter that makes the daylight hours less boring.”
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, deciding to prod a little. “To liven things up for me?”
She pushed her sunglasses up, revealing striking eyes that glimmered with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. Vampires don’t often get surprises, you know.”
“Vampires?” I arched an eyebrow, pretending not to know. “Is that what we’re calling ourselves these days?”
Enid jumped in with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Y/n’s also a vampire, Yoko! You two should totally hang out. Maybe you can teach her the ropes!”
Yoko’s smile widened, showing a hint of fang. “Oh, I’d be delighted. As long as she doesn’t get scared too easily.”
I matched her smile, unflinching. “Scared? That’s not really my thing.”
“Good.” Yoko’s voice dropped, her gaze sharpening. “Because there are plenty of things in Nevermore that will test your limits. I’d hate for you to miss out.”
Before I could respond, Wednesday stood up abruptly, gathering her tray. “This conversation has officially crossed into drivel. Some of us have standards.”
“Leaving already?” I asked, enjoying the way her expression never wavered.
“Unlike you, I have productive tasks awaiting me.” She paused, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Try not to lower the collective intelligence of the room while I’m gone.”
I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
She left without another word, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was a hint of amusement hidden beneath her icy exterior. Yoko watched her go, then turned back to me, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“Good,” I replied. “I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
#wednesday addams x reader#jenna ortega#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x reader#tara carpenter x reader#wednesday addams#jenna ortega x you#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams imagine#wednesday addams x you#wednesday x reader#wednesday netflix#jenna ortega x fem reader#tara carpenter x fem!reader
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"Promise."
Remy LeBeau x fem!reader
A/n: This is my first proper fanfic! it's over 2000 words lolol and it's just Angst/Comfort with everyone's favorite Cajun! I'm really proud of this and I'm happy Remy gets to be my very first proper fic..i hope you enjoy!! also tag for because they asked so nicely :3 @kaidan-z
Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.
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Maybe it’s the fact this was all so..confusing.
I mean how are you supposed to feel when you come face to face with a ghost?
Well, not really. A ghost would still remember, clutching time in its weary hands, allowing freedom and the soft embrace of closure. A ghost would know. Instead you’re both faced with the haunting idea of a lost memory. Something to yearn and claw for, barely scratching the surface of remembrance. A flame of longing and desperation that’s snuffed out by the force of time.
- - - - - - -
You were forced into this mess, against your own will really. One minute you’re sitting in your own misery, clutching a pen and paper, biting back inevitable tears. You mourned the loss of a man who had been long gone, Remy Lebeau. Your Remy. God he was the brightest star, the sweetest man with a sharp tongue. You loved him. You loved him more than anything. The best part? He loved you. Of all the wonderful people in the world, he wanted you, always you. Only you. So that's why it hurt so much when he met his end.
That's why it tore a hole in your heart. He was tied to you, so deeply rooted in your soul that nothing could pull him away, no gentle persuasion could remove him. Only brute force, A harsh tug that tore him away and left you burning. Painful rage that was so blinding that people cowered away. So in this moment..you just needed solace.
But the universe didn’t give you that, instead You're hauled over some guy's shoulder who's blabbering about how “relieved” he is to see you.
So..what the fuck?
You later learn that you're stranded in a trio, a pathetic one at most. A merc with a mouth, Anger issues in a little yellow bundle (he comes with claws too.) and of course...you.
To most, you weren’t anything special. A mutant? Yes. Despite that being heavy enough itself, your mutation wasn’t anything flashy, just simple enough to cope with.
So why the hell did this bloodstained bastard take you of all people?
- - - - - - -
So here you are now, stalking behind the pair you now know as Logan Howlett and..Wade Wilborn?..no, Wilson. That's it. Wade Wilson. He was the reason you were here. The void. That’s what this place was..a void. An endless layout of trash and gunk. The TVA, who you later learned “preserved the Sacred Timeline and prevented the creation of alternate timelines.”
Turns out Wade’s universe was fucked because it lost its “anchor being.” Which was his universe's version of the grouchy companion he’d brought with him..or well, forced with him. Paradox, the one responsible (sorta) for Wade's wonderful kidnapping plan did not seem too pleased..especially since wade had to be that tiny bit extra and break his nose. So he sent you all here..the void.
Wade seemed to be a bit too friendly in all the wrong aspects..seriously how many sex jokes are too many? He’s sweet, you’ll give him that. You found that out only after he attempted to use you as a human shield against some bald headed bitch that only existed to grind on your nerves..But hey, that Johnny guy definitely got it worse.
- - - - - - -
The two overgrown children further proved their hatred to each other by fighting all their tension out in a shitty honda odyssey..all night. They fought till the sun went down. You just sorta sat there, lazily trying to wipe the nose bleed you had received after Wade shoved you to the ground in order to reach a “precious angel.”
..A dog. She was cute but you didn’t take too kindly to him picking a slobbering dog over your mental stability. Still, now all you really had to do was sit and wait for the two to finish their very loud and sharp disagreements.
- - - - - - -
So..now you’re all caught up? Good. Then let me jump back to our present time.
He could have been a ghost, hell he might as well have been considering how much he paled when he saw you. The way the cards in his hands fluttered to a gentle stop. Even when wielding his weapons he was a gentleman. His lips parted..He wanted to say something, anything..but words could not find him. He just starred.
To say you felt sick was an understatement. You felt like your body was about to give up any second. Overcome with the heaviest wave of nausea you’ve ever experienced. Here he was..a dead man. Standing in front of your very eyes..and he was beautiful. A little different..but beautiful. From the hair to the tip of his boots, he was the most gorgeously sculpted man you have ever seen.
“Chere?..”
“Remy?”
Oh fuck. You’re kidding right? So this..version of him had a version of you too? He knew you? He knew you and without even knowing what had happened to his version of you, just looking at his face you knew that something so unforgettable had happened that he was just as broken as you.
“Ooh shit!! Are you seeing this!? I gotta say..i expected all the flashy entrances but look at these two lost loves? Ugh it's like I'm drawing in their self deprecating..”
Remy gave a half glance at the merc, scowling immediadently. His eyes set on him for just a split second before the glare was gone and he was back to looking at you. A softness creeping into his gaze that you didn’t think you’d see ever again. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer.
He knew it wasn’t his lost love but still. From the tips of your hair to the flush in your cheeks, the tentative grasp of your fingers against the fabric of your suit, the way your eyes brimmed with uncertain tears..it didn’t matter. He could rebuild. As selfish as that sounded he could rebuild it all if you’d let him.
“it..it ain’t you but-”
He tried to speak, he really did but the way you flinched at the sound of his voice made him want to cower like a small child. Your eyes fell onto the set of cards in his hand that he soon tucked away into the pocket of his coat. The gentle rustle of the fabric brought you snapping back to the present, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as you carefully backed away, allowing Wade to take the lead again.
- - - - - - -
He watched you the whole time. He didn’t pay attention at all to whatever the hell the nuisance in the centre babbled on about. He watched you like a hawk. Eyes tracing over every piece of you. The way you bit down on the plush of your lip or how your lashes seemed to dampen everytime you blinked. He took note of the unsteady rhythm of your chest. He knew all the signs. When his eyes flicked back up to your face, he saw a tiny tear, barely visible but he could see it. It slipped down your cheek, resting on the curve of your jaw before it dropped onto the floor, seeping into the wood.
Remy had known you all his time in the void. He had no grasp on anything other than this wasteland and well..you. For a brief moment, he let himself daydream, just resting in the past, in the familiar sight of the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Yours.
- - - - - - -
“Don’t you think this is an awful idea?”
“Nonsense Chere, you think Remy doesn’t know a fine place when he sees one?”
His lips curled into a smile as he watched you glance at the rundown diner. It wasn’t exactly heaven, he knew that..but that didn’t matter, as cheesy as it sounds everywhere was heaven when he was with you. You laughed at the way he struggled to open a cabinet, the way he tugged at the wooden handle.
“Careful remy..it looks unsteady..maybe you should-”
“No need to worry about me Mon amour, what? You think Remy can’t handle a little push and pull? Dis is nothing, you just sit there and look- merde!!-”
It swung open, nearly taking him out in the process. You burst into fits of laughter, your knees buckling under how hard your laughter had hit you.
- - - - - - -
And that..bittersweet memory was the very thing that kept him pushing. Your laughter was the sweetest thing to him, he adored it more than anything and he’d longed to hear it once more.
He glanced over at you again, seriously he couldn’t stop. How could he? It was like looking into the past, the love of his life was a few steps away from him and he was doing nothing? What was wrong with him?
He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the tension. He watched as you looked at his hands that were now nervously playing with his card deck. He carefully placed them all in one hand before pointing at you. He saw the way you jumped a little at being addressed. He then pointed to himself before pointing to the exit.
He wanted you alone, He wanted to talk.
Despite the ache in your chest, the tremble in your body, you followed him. You followed him out the arch and into the cool near evening. The sun was beginning to set, it casted the warmest glow over the wasteland. It was the prettiest thing about the whole dump.
The two of you walked in silence for a bit. The only sound filling the air were the gentle crunches of twigs beneath Remy’s shoes. It suddenly hit you. You were here, with an exact copy of your former lover. This was so fucked up.
He led you to a smaller campfire, letting you take a seat on the log before lighting the fire, sitting down with a soft grunt.
“Remy know’s dis is a bit..confusing and he’s damn sorry about it but..he’s gotta know, cher..”
His soft honesty brought warm butterflies to your stomach. The words rolled off his tongue, combed by his heavy accent. His knee bounced nervously as he watched your face, biting his lip slightly.
“It's..complicated, it would take a long time to even-”
“Remy’s got all the time in the world Chere, just talk t’him..”
You glanced at him one last time. He looked like a kicked puppy when you denied him. How the hell could you say no to such hopeful eyes?
And so you told him, you told him everything. The love, the loss, the pain. The way his absence had left a gaping wound on your being, leaving the ugliest scar and a hideous rage, a burning hatred. You spilled it all and it felt good. It felt good to finally just talk. You were so into explaining it all that you didn’t even notice the fact you were in floods of tears, droples streaking down your cheeks. Your breathing shortened as you forced more words out of your throat. You were too engrossed in the pain.
“Chere.”
His firm tone cut you off, he reached up, carefully swiping a tear away with the pad of his finger. It sent a range of sparks up your spine and you quivered under his gaze.
He watched you for just a moment before making up his mind. He knew he was overstepping the imaginary boundaries but he knew his Chere well enough to know what she needed. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other slid up to your shoulder, bringing you into a warm embrace. He was so different yet the exact same. He smelt like whiskey and leather. He smelt like home and it made you feel sick.
“Ma pauvre fille..”
He was so comfortable that he didn’t even realise the words that left his mouth, the soft claim he made..but you did. You heard it and it stung, it healed a tiny part of your wounded soul, to be addressed as his once more. You squeezed his shoulder, letting the last few tears fall. He pulled back, hesitantly cupping your cheek, relaxing a little as you leaned into his touch. This felt right, despite the gnaw of pain it felt right. To be here with him, to feel him.
Remy lifted his hand, capturing your smaller ones with a gentle touch. He pressed his lips to the back of it. A kiss, full of tender love and sweet affection. A rush of blood reached both of your cheeks. The cool air gently brushed against the heated skin. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead this time, letting his own rest against yours as he brought one of your hand to his chestplate, placing it above his heart.
“It’s yours Chere, mon coeur est à toi.”
You knew what he meant, he had promised you that despite all odds, if ever something went wrong, he would find you. He’d find you in every universe.
And he did.
Remy Lebeau was many things. He’d been branded as a scoundrel all his life..but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was lie to you. He was an honest man who kept his promises to you.
He fulfilled each one. Including this one.
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#void gambit#xmen gambit#gambit#gambit x reader#remy lebeau xmen#remy lebeau x reader#remy lebeau#xmen#x men#x men 97#x men comics#x men movies
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Sometimes I feel like such a hypocrite because even though I don't agree with most aspects of branded-ship culture for BLs, I would be absolutely heartbroken if OffGun, GeminiFourth, or FirstKhao ever permanently split
#obv i will still support all the actors no matter what#but like these couples' chemistry is so top teir#that i would be mourning the loss for so long#and i'm not really even talking about doing BL shows tgt#just their friendships in general i hope they never lose#offgun#off jumpol#gun attaphan#gun atp#geminifourth#fourthgemini#gemini norawit#fourth nattawat#firstkhao#firstkhaotung#khaotungfirst#khaofirst#khaotung thanawat#first kanaphan#gmmtv actors#gmmtv bl#bl actors
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@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.
#my art#this is how I think theyd present themselves either in person or in headspace. the slouchers <3#sifs outfit is simple; the boots i always give them (but with star laces for funsies); loose sweater; simple pants#the pants are Meant to be jeans but isat doesnt Specifically Have Jeans so. theyre just Pants.#the sweater is slightly looser bc sif doesnt seem like a Form Fitting Clothes kinda guy to me but hes Trying to be more open#on particularly good days theyll roll the sleeves up or wear a sleeveless one methinks#even if everyone Knows abt the self-harm scars its hard to Look at them.#i also associate them being more open with them not wearing an eyepatch. esp bc hes the only one of the three to go without it#for mal (or 'ami' as i like to call it) i wanted smth reminiscent of a mourning outfit bc mal du pays means homesickness#and i picked 'ami' as a nickname bc ami means friend :] at least according to my basic translator. i dont speak french <3#ami's outfit being dark is also reminiscent of the inversion thing its got going on in canon.#ik the veil is starred in the original but i think ami would want the fewest reminders of home. on account of The Issues#(actually if i can come back to sifs laces sif also has issues with reminders of it bc of the memory loss but the shoelaces are His Choice—#—which gives them a form of control over it and they can keep it subtle or undo it if he wants. which makes it easier)#anyway. i put amis hair in an updo and smoothed the hat bc i think ami wants to be Unremarkable. Unknown. so it keeps its silhouette Simple#(it still keeps the pins. theres smth comforting abt them. they shine like stars and theyre not stars and theyre not Home. but theyre You.)#and i kept the long hair i gave loop. dont ask me why its so long when the canon hair is short. maybe their hair kept growing over the loop#OH and i drew ami in a side profile bc Silhouette and also bc i think itd make an effort to keep people away from its blind spot#andddd i think thats about it? plus i actually managed to keep this one within a reasonable timeframe.#if their hair changes lengths/the proportions change between drawings. no they dont 💛 peace and love and body craft#OH AND YOU FINALLY GET TO SEE WHAT I MEAN ABT SIFS BOOTS BC THESE ARE THE BOOTS I GAVE THEM ON MY REGULAR DESIGN ARENT THEY NEAT#i did actually try to give sif a different font but nothing Works for them like the pixel font. i cant explain it.#i think 'ami' would be a nickname that mira gives it. bc. shes Fantasy French. and its a sort of 'youre more than your yearning/loss' thing#me every time i think abt sifstem: yeah they just rotate in my head. nothing major#me every time i talk abt sifstem: oh hey im almost at tag limit again#au Good what can i say
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HOLY SHIT- HOLY. SHIT. I CAN'T BELIEVE, EVIL EARTH IS BACK-
I HONESTLY DIDN'T THINK, WE'D HEAR FROM THE OTHER DIMENSIONS AGAIN-
THIS ENTIRE EPISODE WAS SO FASCINATING!!!
Earth's entire character revolves around making people happy! She is the caretaker, the therapist, the golden child.
She is kind to a fault, always wanting everyone to be happy, and putting the people around her above her.
She was created and taught to do so. It's her purpose.
THIS IS SUCH A CLEVER SPIN TO HER CHARACTER-
Taking the character trait that defines her the most, and twisting it into something sinister?? Holy shit, I love that!!!
This truly makes her feel in-character, while still giving her a chilling edge!
Instead of simply trying to make people happy, she's actively forcing them to! Even brainwashing them with camps!
And if they can't be happy? If they won't be? Then they are tainting her perfect utopia, and need to die.
This Earth seems to idolize the Creator a lot more, or he, at the very least, generally seems to have rubbed off on her, considering her apathy towards her sinister actions!
I cannot describe to you, how much I love this!!
I'm also really interested in her dynamic with her brothers, and the general world-building!
For one, she actively mentions, that their hatred for her comes from a place of prejudice, because she's a robot. The Creator's robot, to make it worse.
I love, how they consistently throw in humans' distaste for animatronics, and the latter's lack of rights!
Though in this case, that's definitely not it-
She also generally seems to take more of an older sister role? The way she talks to her Lunar sounds like an indeared older sibling, using a higher tone and generally seeming amused by their antics! Also her mentions of them being "silly" again, much like an older sibling indulging in her little sibling's games. This also plays into her patiently explaining everything.
I can't quite say for her dynamic with Moon, though it has shifted somehow!
There's little to go off, when analyzing the brothers, though they too seem generally more apathetic, and honestly tired. Especially Moon.
It's also interesting to note, that this Lunar apparently has a lot of memory issues, the humans actively meddling with their systems to put them against their sister! So much so, that Earth seems very much used to it!
This world fascinates me so much, and I hope, we'll see them again!
With her comeback, I also have hopes to see the other AUs again!
Listen- I need Lunara to make an appearance- I need them to be an antagonistic maniac- I need to know more about their resets, and how long it's been going on- I need them in my life-
I really hope to see a glimpse of Lord Lunar and Servant Eclipse again, and see if their dynamic has shifted since Gregory came by-
I want God Eclipse to be a smug bastard-
I also want go give a shout out to Ruin for being absolutely UNHINGED when it comes to building- Buddy legit built a high tech spaceship in underneath a year, and got a hold on several whiterstorm pieces-
And it feels CRIMINAL not to at least mention Earth's dream episode- Which I haven't done, cause brain fog-
It made me incredibly emotional too!! It's just-
The atmosphere was so incredibly somber…
Earth KNEW, he wasn't real, yet still found comfort in his memory-
OUCH-
-Stardust
YEHWYSYAYAYYAYAYA I KNOW RIGHT!!!!! GENUINELY I'M SO HAPPY THEY BROUGHT HER BACK AND SHOWED OFF MORE OF HER CHARACTER AND HER WORLD IT MADE ME SO HAPPYYYY!!!! I always thought it was a lil weak sauce that, last time, they just went "she's a dictator, evil enough!" so having them revisit her to elaborate and make her properly villainous is EVERYTHING TO MEEEE
AND YEA YEA YEA I LOVEEEE HOW THEY TWISTED HER MOTIVE!!! Exactly like u said abt her having more the Creator's influence, I adore that it's still distinctly her goal, it's just that she's not as emphatic about what she has to do to achieve that goal! And YEA the fact people were particularly displeased about her being the Creator's creation fascinates me.
In my heart I'm imagining someone in her universe made a very online callout post about her and her ties to the creator HSKAHSKS "ouf, unfollowing her now. i was a fan of her 'keep everyone happy' goal but i didn't know she was made by That guy 😬" LMAO
BUT ALSO WITH HER SIBLINGS YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!! She's definitely more authoritative with them, especially with Moon just outright calling her "boss"?!?!!! Whatever is happening there has me SO INTRIGUED. It definitely make me wonder what the lead-up to all this looked like...
I was sort of talking about smth similar with a friend earlier, like. if any of them ever pushed back at any point, only to be put in their place, or if they've just always been too scared to work against her.....
SPECIFICALLY LUNAR HAS ME SO FASCINATED THO YEAH. I cannot explain why for the lofe of me but the fact they're usually a target of the rebel's attacks and have constant memory issues as a result just scratches smth in my brain I rlly like it HAKAHXK
AND YEAAAHHHHHH OH MY STARS IF ANY OTHER AUS ARE REVISITED I THINK I'D GENUINELY ASCEND. MY SOUL WOULD LEAVE MY BODY. EXTRA DETAILS AND INTERACTIONS... TSAMS... TLAES... IF YOU HEAR ME PLEASE HAJAHAJAHS
ANS RUIN YEAHSJQHSKHS IDK HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT BUT LIKE. LITERAL SOLAF BEHAVIOR. THEY BOTH APPARENTLY LOVE TO WORK THEMSELVES SILLY 😭 AND EARTH'S EP I KNOWWW I KNWOEHHRGRHEGRHRGRG
Genuinely that whole ep was DEVASTATING. The whole "you don't know what he'd say, do you?" coming out of his own mouth had me MESSED UPPP 😭😭😭 1 MILLION EMOTIONS ATTACK FOREVER
#asks#anon#stardust anon#ALSO UR TOTALLY FINE FOR NOT LIKE. IMMEDIATELY COMMENTING ON ALL THE NEW EPS#there ain't as much breaks as before via the gaming videos so i totally get it to skip over some or ramble later!!!!#ouh but on topic tho i also wanted 2 say !!!!!#i can't help but wonder if. like. earth doesn't allow her sinlings to be unhappy either.#specifically bc i'm wondering how they would have handled loss. like if they had their own solar and he died too. would she even Allow them-#-to grieve? would she allow herself to? or is that against her goals. are they allowed to truly mourn the loss or do they just have to go-#'oh well. we'll miss em.' and move on. yk? yk?!?!!!!#just. GAH. RLLY INTERESTING SET-UP OVERALL YK HDJSBSKSHDKS#sun and moon show#the sun and moon show#tsams#lunar and earth show#the lunar and earth show#tlaes#long post#very long post
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you are watching mythic quest season 3. i am watching the mythic quest season in my mind where cws death has an actual effect on most of the characters that prompts their development. we are not the same
#someone ask me to elaborate (PLEASE)#jk i’ll do it anyways#i just think that. for me death is something that is very emotional and to see it unutilised here is disappointing to say the least#like the fear of death coping with loss is something i KNOW these fuckers aren’t equipped to handle#and it doesn’t effect all of them and it’s not cw all centric#ian has a midlife crisis rachel loses her creative mentor david starts thinking about death and how people will#remember him (s2ep8 callback) we even saw brad moved at that bit to stay close to your friends!#poppy is too shunned to care dana is too emotionally healthy and doesn’t know cw that well jo. jo#david being in this state can also help brad show jo he’s weak (seeds of doubt in david’s leadership)#and ALSO dana not having an emotional reaction to cws death can also create#more of a rift between her and ian because it’s something she just can’t relate to#ian also mourning in silence also would’ve been so much fucking sadder after sarian knowing the two parental figures that admired and#inspired his creativity are gone#god#this show is evil anyways#also i have a long sad letter cw would write rachel from the grave would y’all like to see that#mythic quest#kaitlinshottakes#poppy li#brad bakshi#ian grimm#cw longbottom#jo mythic quest#rachel mythic quest#dana mythic quest
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#dkhghgghkslghhhgh I'm Not Normal about rotg#my interest in it picks back up for a few weeks each year and I just. sigh#please dreamworks I know you had sequels planned. you don't know how big it would be amongst today's audiences. I prommy#director PETER RAMSEY and executive producer GUILLERMO DEL TORO both want to give it a second chance#as does joyce. the guy who sold the IP to dreamworks#nooo because there are so many interesting things the movie could pull on if it starts looking at the guardians with respect#to events of the past#a big critique of rotg is that it doesn't have much plot and I think that largely comes as a result of the movie being mostly setup#it needed to spend so much time establishing its world and I'm so glad that it did#but it did lead to people questioning what the heck bunny and tooth are and why pitch feels so flat etc etc#oh my GOD if they dug into how pitch was created it would add so much subtext to the antarctica scene#I wouldn't care about whether they brought in nightlight stuff or not by integrating more material from the books bc movie canon#is already so distinct but YOU'RE TELLING ME that this man... a guard in his own right... succumbed to the powers of fear#because he was mourning the loss of his child??? because he wanted to protect her??? and then he tried to connect with jack#(a child) over how much he longed to be known and have a FAMILY??? how am I supposed to be normal about this#there are so many ghosts of the books' influence in the first movie that could be explored so much#not to mention something something fear exists to keep people (kids) safe and eliminating it completely would be Bad Actually#maybe I'm realizing I just want pitch to be explored more sdkfjsldfjks#I've seen a lot of folks say they want more seasonal characters to be introduced and I guess that could work in the context of a show#but if they dove more into how the guardians came to be and what MIM's deal is and how that all affects the present#ohhhh baby that's good content right there#fern muses
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#also i've finally deleted L's number from my phone and the sad spotify playlist and the list of her fav things#(also i feel like saying list of her fav things sounds weird and creepy. just to clarify i keep a running list for each of my friends with#like important info and their fav food and coffee order and stuff like that because i have a really bad memory and can't always remember#details like that even though i really care. i just have trouble recalling details when i want to get them treats and stuff)#but anyway.. i deleted all that stuff from my phone. i even charged my old phone so that i could delete her number from there too. i want to#let her go. i've moved on so long ago but for some reason i just haven't been able to fully let her go so i've held onto these little things#but i'm finally ready to fully let her go#so i deleted that stuff. i cut that connection. i no longer have her number. and it feels so good#like that tiny part of me holding on is a little sad. but it's more mourning the loss of what could've been#but i've accepted that it doesn't matter. i can't keep thinking about what would've happened if she hadn't moved or if i'd reached out#sooner when she got back. i can wonder and wonder but i'll never be able to go back in the past. i don't need to wonder anymore#because honestly i don't even want to be with her anymore.. it would kind of be embarrassing. idk i was just such a different person when we#were seeing each other. i feel like a completely different person than that and idk it's almost embarrassing that she knew me like that when#i know how much better i am now. like i just truly like myself more now than then. i'm so much cooler now lmao#but yeah. i don't want her anymore. i'm letting go. i can finally actually let go and it feels so good#and not only for me but like i'll no longer have that tiny layer of guilt when dating anybody else#and i'll be able to actually fully be all in for that person and that's what i want#i don't want to hold out for her anymore#and honestly. i hadn't been while dating N#that's a whole other thing i have to deal with#but i'm just glad that i'm no longer holding onto L. i just feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me :)#blake says shit
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