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#And suddenly these questions begin to MATTER
icallhimjoey · 1 day
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i really loved the magic of joe hanging out in the bookstore, being his anonymous little self, just reading a book in his armchair, happy to be allowed a warm beverage...................... can we have more of him?
jfc stab me where im softest, why dont you Wordcount: 2.1K
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Little Spoon Reversed
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"Please, before you leave," you spoke to Anne who slung an arm into her jean jacket. "Never forget your headphones ever again, please?"
You couldn't finish the question without laughing already. It earned an eye roll from Anne, who then turned to Joe who was sat in his armchair, book in his lap, but eyes on the two of you.
For a short moment Anne gave Joe a look as if to say, this bitch, am I right? But then before she fully committed, she remembered that Joe would likely take your side on this, like he would take your side on... well, anything, basically.
"I'm aware you don't enjoy... people, but–"
"If I can follow your whole conversation about how you enjoy being a little spoon over being a big spoon, you're talking too loud to be allowed on public transport." Anne stated matter of factly.
She stared into space a second and the shuddered. Joe gave you a look of wild concern, smile playing just underneath, and you laughed.
Anne was being Anne and you loved her, and Joe was being Joe and... well.
You liked Joe.
Joe was funny.
Joe made you laugh.
And Joe looked nice. Sat there.
He looked nice sitting there, in your bookstore.
He just... he did.
All soft.
Hair unstyled. Clothes mismatched. Blue of his denim jacket somehow doing something for the colour of his skin.
Nice. Joe looked nice.
The look of him kind of completed the room just by sitting his ass down in your granddad's armchair. You'd make him a coffee in a second. Keep him there for longer.
When Anne turned to look at him, he immediately dropped the facial expression and just gave her a tiny nod. Dryly said, "Nice jacket." which made her notice how they were both wearing a similar one.
Anne scrunched her nose to that, absolutely grossed out by it.
Joe gave you a small smirk that Anne pretended she didn't catch.
"Headphones!" you made big eyes at her, and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand as she turned to leave the store.
Anne's neutral was already negative to begin with, but when she'd walked in that morning, she'd basically carried thunder in her aura and you'd had to stick her in the back to do admin because she couldn't stop going on about her bad morning.
You couldn't take it too seriously though; the reason her morning had been bad was because she had to listen to people talk on a bus.
She was fine.
But Anne was Anne, and after a very ranty first thirty minutes of her shift, throughout the rest of day she would have moments where she'd suddenly shudder, grimace and mutter "Little spoon," under her breath, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd ever heard people talk about in public.
Intimacy? Vile.
You and Joe shared knowing smiles, and Anne already had one foot out the door when Joe called her back.
"Hey, Anne?"
She paused, barely turned her head, and waited for Joe to talk.
"Which one are you?"
Joe saw her frown in confusion, which only made his smirk grow. He was about to piss her off so bad.
"Big spoon or little spoon?"
He was right. You barked a loud laugh as Anne raised her middle finger up at him before the door shut behind her.
"She's so lovely." Joe smiled, and that only made you laugh more as you found your spot behind the counter.
You were never going to tire of how bitchy Joe and Anne could be to each other, all bark no bite.
"She really is." you agreed, laughter turning into a sigh, eyes falling onto clutter left beside the till.
You had work to do; there were piles of books that needed to find their way onto display tables and up onto shelves.
Your eyes flickered from work to Joe, and you noticed he was still looking at you. Sort of dopily staring, still grinning. You liked that denim jacket on him.
Joe looked good.
"What are you reading?"
Joe's eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he fully registered that you'd asked him a question.
"Oh!" he seemed startled by the book in his lap, like he'd forgotten his hands had been holding onto it for the brief moment of distraction. He lifted it up to show you the cover.
You knew what he was reading already, but any excuse for some small talk whilst you sorted through some paperbacks.
"Do you like it?"
"Yea, actually... it's good, it's– it's... relatable? Even though it's not, because none of these things have ever happened to me, but, you know what I mean? Like, I–, I don't know, I get it, I guess... it's... it's just, it's interesting."
Joe stumbled through finding the right words to tell you that, simply, the writing was good, and it made you purse a smile as you sorted through some novels.
"That's good," you stuck a pile of books under an arm. "I'm glad you like it."
"Yea," Joe said, eyes on a page that he then turned, scanning his eyes over the words, but not reading any of them. He was glad he liked it too, but even if the book hadn't been as enjoyable to read as this one was, he still would've enjoyed his time there just the same. It was never about the books for him.
Which was why it was so easy to put it down when he saw you getting ready to climb up a ladder with an armful of them.
He didn't even have to say anything.
Just put his book down on the small sidetable, got up and walked over, hands already held out to take the pile of books from you.
"Sorry," you said, like this was an inconvenience to Joe.
It wasn't.
Joe got to be close to you, fingertips grazing the skin of your arm as he helped you out. Got your hands free so you could actually hold onto the ladder. Safety first.
"I should've maybe done this whilst Anne was still in."
And then he got a close look at your ass as you ascended the ladder just next to him, which wasn't his fault, mind you. You literally hauled it up right into his line of sight.
It had never been about the books for him.
"Are these new ones?" Joe turned his head to read the title of the book on top of the pile before picking it up and handing it to your awaiting open palm.
"No, just ones people take down to have a look at and then leave around. Thanks."
Joe did that a lot.
"Sorry." he said jokingly, taking all blame for the mess.
That made you laugh.
"That's okay. Part of running a bookstore."
It was quiet then for a moment. Just Joe handing you books that you put back into their places. When he passed you the last one, you were about to climb down, but Joe decided he could help for a little longer.
"These ones too?" he rounded the counter like he wasn't allowed to step behind it and pointed at another stack of them.
"Yea," you smiled. "Thanks."
You'd gone well past feeling uncomfortable for accepting a little bit of Joe's help. Joe knew his place when Anne was in, or when there were other customers browsing, but when it was just the two of you inside these shelf-cladded walls, Joe could lend a hand.
You'd tell yourself it was just Joe being nice because you gave him a lot of free coffee.
Joe knew better.
"So, what about you?"
"Hmm?"
You looked down from your spot up on the ladder, and saw how Joe read the title of the book he was about to give you before he outstretched his arm and made eye-contact.
"Big spoon or little spoon?"
Your fingers grazed as you took the book from him and you nearly let a smile escape you, but Joe wasn't smiling and dressed it as casual, but serious question. Like he genuinely wanted to know.
"Um," you pretended to give it a good think. "I'll go for... little spoon I guess."
It helped that you got to faff around with a bunch of paperbacks on a shelf and didn't have to look him in the eye when you asked, "You?"
"Oh," Joe said, frowning like the answer was obvious. "I'm a big fan of both."
This was information that you couldn't Google.
You kind of loved it.
"Yea?"
Another book got passed.
"Oh yea, sometimes, you want to cuddle someone. Other times you want to be cuddled, you know?"
If Anne had still been in, she'd have made a request for someone to shoot her by now.
"Well," you started, feeling brave. "Can I introduce you to," you paused for effect. "Little spoon reversed?"
You were about to reach down for the book Joe was holding up, but he slowly lowered it, staring up at you with big bulging eyes.
"Little spoon what?"
"Reversed." you easily said, smiling and taking a step down to grab the book from Joe's hands.
"Please elaborate." Joe acted like you'd just told him the most shocking piece of information ever.
"It's all in the word. It's being the little spoon," you held up two cupped hands, one turned so the back rested in the other's palm and then turned one, so your palms faced each other. "But reversed."
Joe looked a little mesmerized.
You shrugged and dropped your hands. "Best of both worlds."
"Best of both worlds..." Joe repeated. "Huh."
"You get to hug and be hugged," you said, holding a hand open for another book.
Joe stared into space as he passed it. Thinking.
"Kind of... equal spoons, then," he mused.
"Well, no. Not exactly. There's still a big spoon and a little spoon."
You glanced down and smiled at how Joe seemed to be honestly interested, not at all making fun or being silly about this topic. He was learning.
"Please, elaborate."
"The little spoon is whoever gets to press their face into the neck of the other. Of the big spoon."
Joe's knees nearly gave out at that. It was a crime how casually you'd just said that.
"Yea... no, yea." Joe cleared his throat. "That makes sense."
The bell above the door rang, and you both turned your heads like you'd just been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing. Which was exactly right. Joe didn't work there, you had no business having him help you out like this.
"Good afternoon!" you cheerily exclaimed at the customer that had just walked in, and accepted the last book from Joe's hands.
Joe felt a little silly with how he felt his neck flush at the thought of having you in his bed to cuddle up with. Have your face pressed into the crook of his neck. Or, worse - have his face pressed right into yours.
God.
He was fantasizing about cuddling, getting all hot and bothered.
Was he fourteen years old?
You gave the shelf in front of you a last look before making your way back to the floorboards, ladder held sturdy in place by Joe's hands, and when you were back at eye level, you gave Joe a nod and a smile.
"So...? If you had to choose one?"
Joe tried to hide a smile and looked at his feet for a moment.
"Big spoon or little spooon?"
"I think you've sold me on little spoon reversed."
"Yea?"
"Best of both worlds." Joe said proudly, like he was the one who'd drawn that conclusion himself.
"Hmm. It's a good choice."
"Yea?"
"Yea."
You looked at each other a moment too long, both still with hands on the ladder you were stood next to. In a true moment of weakness, you let your eyes flick down to his neck. To the skin in between the collar of his jacket and, yea all right, so you were imagining it. Like that was your fault. How could you not, exactly?
You saw Joe's throat work as he swallowed, and when your eyes moved back up to meet his, something had changed there.
Maybe Joe shouldn't wear that jacket again, because you felt how your body wanted to sway forward.
Little spoon reversed.
A loud scraping of someone's throat broke the spell.
"Excuse me, um, do you work here?"
Joe smirked just before you pulled your eyes away from him.
Little spoon reversed.
"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"
---
The Taglisted
@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,
@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,
@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,
@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,
@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,
@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,
@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,
@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,
@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,
@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo
taglist currently full, sorry
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allguysshouldgrow · 21 hours
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The Scale
hey y'all, this is my first attempt at a piece of somewhat longer fiction. if you like it, please comment/shoot me a message and encourage me to do more! hope you enjoy!
     You get out of your car, slowly, pulling the fabric of your T-shirt down as a matter of habit, just to make sure you aren't giving anyone a peep show of the bottom 2 inches of your abdomen. It's unseasonably warm today - what should be the warmth of May feels more like the heat of July, and honestly, you hate it. You're out yardsaling today - looking for deals on the nerdy shit you collect, and whatever else you might find, and getting out and about fulfills your love for meeting new people.
     "Hey there, how are you?" yells a guy from across the yard as you walk up the driveway. You respond with normal niceties as you begin to browse the wares. Tableclothes, baby clothes, adult clothes, glassware, an old coffee machine, nothing to exciting. You glance over at the guy a few times. He's in his late 30's, decently attractive face, but wearing a sweatshirt 2 sizes too big - you assume he must be hiding some sort of body he's embarrassed of. You both chit chat as you comtinue to browse, about the weather, about some of the stuff he's selling, about the upcoming storms that are supposed to roll in that afternoon.
     As he's telling you about his experience with a lightning strike, you notice something that you don't see very often. A scale, but not a normal one, but one for the big boys, one that goes up to 600 lbs. You pick it up and examine it - it's obviously used and a bit dusty, but in good shape.
     He chimes in, "It works, tested it this morming myself! Just want to move past that time of my life." You give him a look, obviously curious about what he means. "Yeah, I used to weigh 529 at my heaviest - that thing was the only thing that could tell me just how bad my problem had gotten. Lost over 250 poinds since then, and ready to get rid of it."
     Suddenly the baggy sweatshirt makes sense, as does all of the men's clothing for sale. You start to get curious about what he looks like underneath the sweatshirt, but aren't stupid (or brave) enough to ask. For whatever reason, you tell him your honest reason for picking it up.
     "Good for you, that's awesome! I get what you mean about it being hard to find - my bathroom scale has been reading 'ERR' for months, and I can't find an affordable option to replace it." You laugh as you give your gut a small slap, one that sends ripples throughout your body, more than you expected. "I think I maxed it out, one week it read 299.2, the next is was ERR. How much do you want for it?"
     "I'll take 2 bucks man, I just want it gone." You fish out your wallet, and hand him the money. He hesitates for a minute, as if condiering saying something. Finally, he takes the money and opens his mouth to speak.
     "How old are you?" He asks. You laugh semi-nervously, taken aback by the odd question. "25, why?" He hesitates again. "I was about your age when my weight started to get out of control. It felt like one day I was enjoying big meals and a lotta beer without a care in the world, and the next day I was having a hard time getting out of bed. I guess what I'm saying is.... be careful. Coming from a big guy, I know what big looks like, and you look to be a fair ways past 300. I don't want you to have the same struggles I did, being too fat to enjoy your prime years, spending more time eating than socializing. It doesn't feel good to be the guy that needs his in shape buddies to help him get off the couch."
     You stand there a moment, staring at him. Something is stirring inside you, something you don't want to acknowledge. "I appreciate the advice man. Have a good day." You say, all in one breath, trying to leave the interaction as soon as possible. You run-walk back to your car, trying to ignore the jiggles, the sweat beading on your brow, the slight soreness in your legs. You get in the car and are finally forced to confront that feeling that swirled in you as he was speaking.
     You lift up your gut slightly, and see what you were worried about - a small wet spot right over your crotch. The story the man told you, the... warning, had made you so aroused, you pre-came through your pants. You attempt to quickly rub one out to get rid of the thoughts in your head, but find that your underwear is too tight, and your belly too big.
     After speeding home, you run into your apartmemt with the scale, feeling a mix of worry, excitment, fear, and worst of all, horniness. As you set down the scale to weigh yourself, you start jerking off, unable to wait any longer. Suddenly, a number blinks back at you.
343.6.
You cum. Harder than ever before. Longer than ever before. And without you realizing, a switch flips, somehwere deep inside of you. After cleaning up, you pick up your phone, and order McDonald's for delivery, and order twice your normal order. As you sit down, finally thinking clearly for the first time in an hour, one thought sits on the edge of your mind as you try to ignore it.
"What if I max out this scale too?"
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coffeegnomee · 16 hours
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Why the Eclipse Federation is so beloved for so long. An essay about Story.
In the book “Story Genius: How to use brain science to go beyond outlining and write a riveting novel” author Lisa Cron proposes:
“What drives a story forward is, at first blush, invisible. It’s not talent. It’s not voice. It’s not the plot. Think electricity. The same way even the most powerful lamp is useless unless it’s plugged in, a story can’t engage readers without the electricity that illuminates the plot, the voice, and the talent, bringing them to life.
The question is: what, specifically, generates that juice?
The answer is: it flows directly from how the protagonist is making sense of what’s happening, how she struggles with, evaluates, and weighs what matters most to her, and then makes hard decisions, moving the action forward. This is not a general struggle, but one based on the protagonist’s impossible goal: to achieve her desire and remain true to the fear that’s keeping her from it. As we’ll explore in detail, story is not about the plot, or what happens. Story is about how the things that happen in the plot affect the protagonist, and how he or she changes internally as a result” (bold added) 
And more to the point, “You can’t write about how someone changes unless you know, specifically, what they’re changing from.”
———
Where we begin
We launch the Eclipse Federation arc with PrinceZam telling his tale to ItzSubz_ in Detroit. Zam has just left his team because they duped thousands of items, terrorized the server, and were unwilling to let go of this unfair advantage. He tells how he battled them on the nether roof, lost everything, and was exiled. He was chased down, followed to his castle and was terrorized every day until he was killed over and over (#stonesword). He’s lost everything. He needs a team, he needs friends. 
This is where our story begins, a hero who has a specific and definitive backstory, something that compels him to reach out to our inciting incident: speaking to Subz when he’s on 2 hearts. 
Subz, seeing everything that has happened, sympathizes with Zam citing that he thinks they have both been wronged by the server and it’s time they stopped letting that happen. 
This is where the tragedy begins. 
Subz operates under the assumption that Zam wants to get back at those who wronged him. Zam agrees with this in the moment. 
But Subz fails to realize that it is the exploits that caused Zam to be wronged: if the exploits hadn’t happened, if the dupe war hadn’t happened, Zam would never have left his team and he, in turn, would never have been terrorized for weeks. 
And above anything else, Subz fails to realize that Zam does not want to be on a team that exploits.
Our hero, with a definitive backstory, is placed in a situation that directly places tension on that selfsame backstory.
The days go by and the team, now including Vitalasy, grows together, bonding over shared fights, laughing and joking, creating silly bedrooms with the most obnoxious blocks possible. 
All is well.
Then Ashswag reveals that he can one-tap any player, in any amount of armor, he has seemingly infinite amounts of totems, and he’s acting like he’s on a power trip, giggling and evading questions. 
Exploits have returned to the LifestealSMP.
Zam’s heart sinks as he realizes that something huge is brewing on the server. And it’s worse than any duped item he previously had been involved with.
Confused and hurt, he reaches out to his team to figure out what their next steps will be. How they’ll fight this disaster. 
But tragedy strikes again. Thanks to the beauty of streamed content, Subz accidentally goes live instead of starting a recording and he reveals that he and Vitalasy are the cause of these new exploited items and that they are very upset with Ash for showing them off. Because of this mistake, they decide to tell Zam everything.
Suddenly, against all odds, against all logic, against all reason, our main character is once again on a team who is using exploits and is unwilling to let them go.
It baffles the mind. How could he have been so clear with Subz about the reason behind him leaving Team Awesome and Subz still let him on the team knowing they had this exploit plan.
Once again it’s the beauty of streamed content that has brought our main charater into the most absurd of situations: they’re friends. Genuinely. Outside of content. Of course Subz brought him onto the team. Why would he not.
The reasons for the situation are simple, but the gravity of them affects Zam deeply. 
Our hero has to face a situation that directly relates to his past, as struggle of friendship vs values. 
No longer is this a situation of school yard bullying, creating obsidian prisons at spawn and using duplicated items to win fights; this is an apocalyptic situation. Lifesteal season 4 will end if this exploit is not stopped. What was obsidian is now bedrock, what was duped netherite is now one-tap potions, what was once withers destroying spawn are now mysterious creatures that kill players instantly.
So our hero has to face not only the apocalypse, but also himself. Battling against his love of his friends and his need for community and safety, while also battling for the safety of everyone on the server.
These streams slowly unfold a dark reality that anyone who has every been in a bad relationship has had to face. What do you do when the person you love is no longer recognizable? 
When your values are no longer aligned, have never been aligned? 
Do you leave them? Do you stay? Do you hope you can change them? 
How do you process the fact that they lied to you, let you in knowing that you are diametrically opposed to something that they were secretly doing? How do you process that it was an accident? That you hadn’t communicated the depth of the importance of this value (not exploiting) well enough so they didn’t pick up on it as important to communicate from the start?
How do reconcile lies that are told to your face? How do you stand up for yourself in the face of gaslighting? 
To quote Lisa Cron again, “The purpose of story - of every story - is to help us interpret, and anticipate, the actions of ourselves and of others.” (bold added)
This is the foundation of why this arc was so tragic, so compelling. Why it sticks in my mind for over a year now, the details as clear and crisp as the day I watched the streams. I can still see the actions being played out in that Minecraft blocky world like it was yesterday. The deepslate tiles of the communication room, the glowing yellow and purple and red signs, the prison in the sky, the exchange of trust apples. 
It’s not about the apocalypse, it’s about one man’s battle within himself. So he leaves the team. Sticks up for himself and stakes a claim against exploits.
But the tragedy continues. As the days pass we realize that maybe Vitalasy was telling the truth and he isn’t going to be the villain. Everything contradicts this opinion. He’s flying, he’s one-tapping Planet in the prison, he’s using the potions. He’s going insane but remaining delusional. 
And yet he continues to insist he’s not evil. He’s good. 
Every storytelling tactic says this man should be the villain and yet he refuses to do so (creating some new interesting content as the streamers have to contend with other members who don’t act within the rules of Play and of Content).
Eventually Vitalasy burns all his exploited items. Zam, left in abject frustration, releases a chunk ban which only bans Mapicc. Giving up, he leaves. And Vitalasy bans himself, throwing himself off the prison over and over, sealing the story that he is not the villain. He was misunderstood.
To quote the Mer essay “anger transmute(s) into grief as if by magic” and FarmerZam is born. The story has affected our protagonist deeply and he has changed. He has no enemies. He refuses to look at how he’s hurt his friends because it’s simply too painful. Everything that could have gone wrong has. 
Then Subz revives Vitalasy. Takes him around the server to their old bases while Vitalasy remains in depression about being misunderstood. He doesn’t want to be here. 
But as Subz reveals the final base, before they go through the end portal, Vitalasy catches a glimpse of a new sign room, one filled with depressive thoughts. The same thoughts he has been having this whole stream. You can almost hear his posture fix as he realizes the state of mind Subz is in. He needs to convince Subz to stay.
But we all know what happens, the trajectory of lives are changed. Subz has Vitalasy kill him, banning him off for the rest of the season, promising to be back when Vitalasy needs him most, but for no one else. 
Zam sees the death message and panics. He needs answers, he needs to bring Subz back. He’ll do anything to bring him back since it was Subz, it always has been Subz, who took him in when he had nothing. He realizes in a flash that he cares more about the friendship than about any values he held. But it’s too late now.
The tension, the sorrow stays. Zam decides to repair all his old friendships before the wormhole opens and this world ends. Vitalasy is forgiven. Spoke, Mapic, Ro. Planet, Bacon, Jaron. Everyone he betrayed. Everyone he let down.
But he forgot about Pangi. 
But Pangi didn’t forget about him. He has always been there for Zam, but Zam time and again has abandoned him. He’s had enough. With the server ending, he’s going to get his amends, make him repent (thanks Chips. I mean. Credit to the artist)
He traps Zam in bedrock. 
And Zam breaks. 
Friendships, betrayal, enemies. Everything comes full circle. It seems you can’t escape your past just as you can’t escape being on the exploit team.
Once again we enter the story with a defined background, but this time it breaks Zam completely. 
It’s not about exploits. It’s not about fairness. It’s about friendship. It’s about Subz. Subz was the only one who truly cared about him. He didn’t bring him onto the team maliciously, he really and truly cared about Zam and now he was Gone. Grief wells to the surface, Subz’s words about getting back at everyone who wronged them rings in his ears. 
He’s going to talk to Spoke and end the world. 
But his heart rebells even now. He’s betraying everyone again. But he’s sick of betraying. He won’t do it again, no matter how much chat tries to convince him Spoke is just using him and doesn’t care about him.
He’s going to end the world so that Subz will come back. 
And then the pièce de résistance. Subz IS revived. And he’s disappointed in Zam for changing sides and joining the exploiters when he left them because if it.
The depths of that final conversation makes Zam’s story the most insane tragedy. It has been 5 months of near daily or every other day developments on this story. The twists and turns have produced laughter and tears, cheering, anger, frustration, satisfaction, depression. 
And in the end? Subz still chose Vitalasy. Man how I wanted them to take him back in that moment. But what was done was done. These are the consequences of our actions. 
And in the end the circle comes to another completion: he’s back on a team with Mapicc, the same person he betrayed over the duped exploits. They promise each other to end the server with everyone banned, no matter what anyone else has to say. In the end they jump into the portals together and the server is moved to season 5. (I too, in union with where Zam ended his video, think it’s a good place to end the plot here rather than with that final scene on the grass. This is the last character decision he made)
———
The Present Moment
Zam was talking on stream a few days ago about how Kaboodle wanted to know why Eclipse was so beloved still. Mer’s essay came up (which I read and absolutely loved), but the essay talks more about the dynamics of the streamers themselves and how their relation to Play made the story compelling to watch. Which it absolutely does, and I’ve written about how much this has reframed how I view Lifesteal.
But I think that only covers one aspect. The deeper reason why there’s still fanart being drawn of Eclipse is how Zam created (and/or was handed) one of the most tragic plot lines ever created by man, and how he allowed himself to be affected by the story, and how he brought it alive through his streams as he “struggles with, evaluates, and weighs what matters most to [him], and then makes hard decisions, moving the action forward.”
And this is why Zam is so beloved by the community in general. This is how he approaches every arc on Lifesteal. Most recently the Joker arc launched from the Abyss betrayal, which in turn, after his ban the first day of hardcore, turned into the possession arc as he realizes his love of Mapicc and Ro goes beyond his obsession with Minute and Jumper. 
Each note of Lifesteal flows into the other as he lets us into the inner workings of his mind as he weighs one decision from another.
Because at the end of the day, I remember the tragedy, the longing for friendship and the betrayals, more than I will ever remember the circular reasoning of Vitalasy or the “okay”’s from pb&j. I only remember the strained voice of Zam as he wrote signs and went in circles trying to reconcile the fact that he couldn’t stay on a team and he couldn’t leave. How he was being dangled off the edge of a cliff being held up by Vitalasy. How Minute just doesn’t get it, he needs to be shown what Lifesteal is. His maniacal laughs as the Joker. Zam allows the story to affect him and he uses every ounce of it to create even more. 
As Branzy said in the therapy session “It’s a human story. About what humans are.”
To their credit, Subz and Vitalasy also allowed themselves to be affected by the story. Without Vi banning himself because he was so misunderstood, and Subz bringing him back to ban him so that Eclipse could have some sort of ending, and without Subz doing so much lore with Zam in 1 on 1 conversations, we wouldn’t have the same story.
The same with Pangi finishing his lore by trapping Zam because Zam didn’t do the god-off with him. The same with Ash being Ash and flexing his god powers. The same with Spoke bringing Zam into the team and then getting caught up in managing the wormhole so he didn’t have time for 1 on 1’s with Zam to make him feel totally accepted as a valuable member. The same with Mapicc always being willing to let go of the past to save himself as well as never letting go of the past so he has something to do on the server. The same with Planet talking to Zam and Bacon and figuring out how to fight the exploits and realizing they needed to convince Zam to betray. The same with Branzy giving the craziest therapy session lifesteal has ever seen. Without each member allowing themselves to be affected by the story, the story doesn’t go anywhere. 
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ih21506 · 21 hours
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Pairing(s): Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader Sam Winchester X Sister!Reader
Genre: Angst
Warning(s): Mental illness, use of Y/N
Summary: You’re the 15 year old sister of Sam and Dean. Growing up you would always have, what they called, ‘episodes’ where you would wake up really hyper and happy then completely crash, going into some sort of depressive state. Over the years, it took them a while to figure out when you was and wasn’t having one of your ‘episodes’ but eventually they figured it out.
A/N: If you are struggling with your mental health, please talk to someone about it because you are loved and you’re just as important and you matter just as much as everyone else.
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You felt amazing, you had a lot of energy, you was ready to do everything you wanted to do today, and the first thing was going to the store to get supplies for a project at school.
“Morning guys!” You said to your brothers, you then saw Cas, “Oh hey Cas!”
“Hello Y/n,” Castiel said, while Sam and Dean shared a knowing look.
“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you okay?” Dean asked you and you nodded your head.
“I’m great! Sam could we go to the store? I have a project I need to do and I need to get some supplies,” You explained.
“Now? You don’t want a coffee or some food first?” Sam asked.
“No I’m okay,” You said, and that confirmed it for the brothers, you was having one of your episodes.
And of course Cas being Cas, he was very confused by your new behaviour.
“Okay, we can go out,” Sam said.
“Great, C’mon!” You practically ran out of the room as you went to the Impala.
After a full morning of shopping, and you getting distracted by different things every two minutes, Sam had finally gotten you back home and you instantly went to your room to begin your project.
Around an hour later, Dean was sat in one of the chairs in the library while Sam left to check on you in your room, then suddenly Cas appeared.
“Dean, why do you look so worried?” The Angel asked, and Dean was about to speak when Sam walked back into the room.
“She’s crashed,” Is all Sam said, and now Cas was very confused.
“Who’s crashed? Is someone hurt? Do we need to go to a hospital?” Castiel questioned and Sam began to explain what he meant as Dean walked out of the library, towards your room.
You laid in your bed, your covers pulled up to your neck, and you stared at the unfinished project that sat on your desk.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice came from the doorway and when you looked at him for a moment you saw him walking into your room.
As you shook your head you mumbled, “I can’t finish it,”
Dean laid next to you and you moved closer to him as he wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hold.
“You can finish it tomorrow,” Dean told you as he began to run his fingers through your hair.
Suddenly, Cas appeared in your room with a pizza box in hand.
“You said your favourite food is Pizza so I got you some,” He told you, but you just sighed and rolled over as tears flooded your eyes and you began to silently cry.
“Thanks Cas but Pizza isn’t something she needs right now,” You heard Dean say, then Cas walked out of the room.
“Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal?” A sob slipped past your lips and Dean’s hand went to rub your back.
That was something Dean couldn’t answer, because him and Sam have been asking that first question for years as they thought endlessly about your mental state.
Why do you get like this? What is it caused by? Is it was them that causes it?
“Hey, what have I told you? Being normal is boring,” Dean told you, but it didn’t make you feel much better.
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psilactis · 6 months
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I just watched the first Furiosa trailer and.... I didn't like it
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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months
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I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.
-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a
~*Spiritual Experience*~
I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.
Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.
He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.
So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.
He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.
Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.
His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.
Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.
There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.
I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.
However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."
For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."
I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."
Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.
The Gods were not merciful today.
It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.
Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.
So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.
The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.
My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.
Which is when the hail begins.
"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"
I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.
So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.
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(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)
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anantaru · 9 months
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EX HUSBAND NEUVILLETTE
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— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband neuvillette headcanons
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, fluff, crack lmao, he‘s trying his best, very rough like he’s feral!!!!, fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, but the sweetest man, a little possessive without him realising
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ex! husband neuvillette, who— as was wildly anticipated, would not instantly vanish from your life nor leave you stranded alone beside the mental toll that a separation would leave on the both of you— even after the grief-stricken divorce was at last, ultimately finalized and carried out.
ex! husband neuvillette who thought that— with the fullness of his devastated heart, that in his own very eyes, it was beyond a doubt commonplace to aid and assist his ex-wife in the so called "aftermath" of your troubling divorce, whilst more urgently, be in no qualms that you're being cared for with everything and anything you could possible need.
ex! husband neuvillette, who of course, would double check with you to not suddenly overstep any boundaries or take up space that you might need— yet bare in mind, if you were to ask him for help on any matter really, he'd immediately leave everything behind to fulfill your wishes first, considering he is used to it, but the man will tend to forget about his own personal needs which he needed so he could function properly— yet now with you out of the picture, walking back to his current reality was becoming a taxing task.
ex! husband neuvillette, who, aside from his own separate challenges and demands, would never dare to cast aside his important work of practically running the nation of hydro. much obliged, he was a prestigious, praiseworthy man, thus the reason for him to pull more effort and sleepless nights into his occupation.
ex! husband neuvillette who couldn't believe that you both were divorced in the first place because in all seriousness, there wasn't much changing and aside from a couple instances, for example that he wasn't seeing you frequently, it felt the same way to him.
ex! husband neuvillette who, after a couple weeks into your divorce, will suddenly become a little more distant, not responding to letters you would occasionally send to make sure he was okay— with the immediate turbulent, overcast weather in fontaine adding to the closing eeriness of the entire situation. it's constant, clouded and gray, a mirage of cold rain and an incoming storm, and the people of fontaine will begin to question what had happened or if it was simply an unlucky past couple of weeks.
ex! husband neuvillette who doesn't like the idea of divorce, as might be expected he understands it, but in his own regard, he does not approve of it, but he accepts it— additionally, he wouldn't force you to stay with him, again, why he had agreed on it in the first place. the man would lie to himself if he'd say that it doesn't break his heart, the unclouded thought of wholly erasing the person he referred to as his 'wife' off his entire life was a frightening pondering.
ex! husband neuvillette wasn't willing to accept it, ever, but he did it for your sake and the small possibility of you becoming close again, in the future? perhaps, he was willing to wait endlessly, condemning himself to a lifetime in darkness, knowing full on well that his most desired dream to reconcile arguably wouldn't come true— on top of that, after careful, deep talks on how to properly navigate your divorce and being separated from now on, you have both ultimately agreed on remaining 'friends' in a sense, such was easy to state of course but you longed to make the best out of it, or at least try.
ex! husband neuvillette who will against all odds, still keep his wedding ring put on its designated place. granted, he had gotten quite accustomed to the feeling of it being wrapped around his finger and doesn't want to take it off. if you do decide to ask him about it, given that you aren't wearing yours anymore, he will plainly state that he got used to it way too much and it had grown on him, really, becoming a part of his person so ultimately taking it off would result in the same as him severing a limb off his body.
ex! husband neuvillette who still calls you his wife unintentionally, in the beginning of the first couple of weeks, it will happen almost all the time. be that as it may, he doesn't do it on purpose to somehow hurt you or make you uncomfortable, and he was aware of the fact that he needed to get accustomed to the feeling of being single again, of not being married anymore but calling you his wife just warmths his chest and hugs him from inside and out.
ex! husband neuvillette bets on it, it's like his whole day could be stacked with work on end, without a second of tranquility in sight, rain droplets covering the nation of hydro, but when he thinks about you, only you, a smile coruscates over his soft lips, increasing his heart beat, it's all so painful but he wouldn't want it any other way because nothing, and he emphasizes it deeply, nothing would be as painful as having you gone form his life.
ex! husband neuvillette who, and pay attention now, this would only happen if his strong, rational thinking skills and durable emotions towards keeping the laws of this world truthful were somewhat altered in an instance of weakness, but he would adore to throw and punish every new person you would date after him behind bars, yet not before properly dragging them to a trail that they cannot win, for him to look down on them— again, it's a small fantasy he wouldn't bring into life, he honored his noble work.
ex! husband neuvillette who knows that even day dreaming about such wrongful ideas were full of holes and malice, yet beyond it, he keeps himself restrained in not interfering in your new relationships— which he had thought must be a lot, you could say he believed that you were already out and about in the dating world, overthinking the worst out of all possibilities that could happen.
ex! husband neuvillette who will oftentimes send the melusines out to check up on you and tell him how you're doing— no, don't misunderstand, he doesn't want to know if you were dating again, he wouldn't, after all, this was your personal life and he wasn't your husband anymore. but then again, surely checking every now and then wouldn't hurt a soul, right?
ex! husband neuvillette will send you freshly picked flowers frequently, or have your favorite dish made by a professional chef. how can i forget to mention that he tends to buy a small, cute souvenir that would remind him of you and send it your way instantly. at how things were slowly progressing, the man will be quite embarrassed in facing you again, granted that you had promised to remain friends, he fears that the constant raining and pouring around fontaine would make it desperately obvious on how he was truly feeling, what can there be left anyways, nothing but the untouchable part of him, his aching soul begging for closeness.
but ex! husband neuvillette does not want to trouble you, fearing he might become overbearing in his doings, but he misses you, this time it's more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. he longes for a moment where he can see and feel you again, his mind circling through emotions and pondering, sinful dreams stitching his psyche together and calming down his heart.
ex! husband neuvillette who will be surprised, yet overly thrilled as if he was about to jump off his chair, when you ask the sweet melusines to hand him over a letter— the scent of the thin paper reminding him of your fragrance, a similar one he noticed whenever he kissed your neck. beyond question, they couldn't have told him fast enough, he finishes up the necessary work load for the day, at once forging ahead to your once shared house. you know it by now but he does not falter, he wants this to be perfect, carefully picking up a bouquet of flowers, with the flowers in questions being the very ones that have been decorating your wedding venue back in the day, oh sweet memories, he hopes he doesn't come off as crazy.
ex! husband neuvillette who tries to play it cool, it's not a big deal, but why were his hands sweating? his breathing was fast too, burgeoning, each following step towards your home, his limbs and muscles would begin to tremble, it's evident and almost aflame, but the weather has been nice again all of a sudden, for once in fontaine and he couldn't wait to see you.
ex! husband neuvillette who cannot say anything when you open the door for him, all these miles with the memories of your passionate time together pouring back into his mind. it's silly, but so real, and there was a silence, although not of an uncomfortable kind, it was overthrowing the hefty atmosphere.
and honestly, you think ex! husband neuvillette was cute when he was all overwhelmed and bereft of speech, even cuter when he’s silently walking past the door, your hands slowly wrapping around the bouquet of flowers to place them aside, on top of a wooden drawer before panning your eyes back into his grasp— which was his piercing, conquering gaze.
you could perceive the cutting tautness, how the reinforced pressure alone couldn't be torn, not with a sharp knife, no sword, no blade, because forthrightly— there wasn't anything on this planet that was able to part this emerging and crashing body chemistry.
all fairness to the situation— your captivation was off the charts, two people unable to coexist while parted, searching within your souls to understand what was happening. yet then it hit you, that maybe— heavily placed on a single maybe, that there might've been a cruel mistake in how things ended between you both;
or did they end?
because like a bullet piercing through soft flesh, it gave the impression away as if you were both moving closer to your sweet frames until you could clearly feel his warm, clothed chest pushed against your own— hopeful eyes remained locked within your gazes as you carefully slide your hands behind his neck without breaking his stares.
ex! husband neuvillette whose breathing was all fast and hasty, yet much swifter was his never ending intention to kiss you again and taste your lips in the process, he cannot stop himself anymore, but he must— for some reason, he cannot fathom that this might be reality and that you both would have a second chance in this life after all.
"kiss me." you suddenly whisper, eyes aglow with his own enlarging at the nervous utterance, subtle touches weaving together and showing your open truths.
ex! husband neuvillette feels how tense he has gotten and tries to relax— on top of that, he was reminiscing about the past and the bare memories of your writhing body splayed under his large one, his entire weight on top of you, just the whisper of his sinful imagination made his mouth water— he truly believes he was in fact dreaming right now, especially when you tell him to kiss him again.
there were no thoughts to process anymore, no focus he could grasp on to remain clearness— what was left were true, unfaltering desires and the scalding pain of waiting. that‘s when you kiss him instead, his body immediately welcoming your fervid warmth, pulling his head towards your own in a heart beat.
ex! husband neuvillette felt a heavy hardship being lifted off his shoulders the moment your lips touch his, and each one of the words he had planned to spell out to you, they form into a sting that was beating into his heart, repeatedly, the sharp stitches seeping into his veins slowly. and he refuses to cry in front of you, or expose to you that everything that had happened after your separation was covered in nothing but a silent numbness.
swallowing the lump in his throat, ex! husband neuvillette guides you to the bedroom, it was hard to decipher what was real or not, each motion of your lips rounding across his own felt like he was dreaming the most beautiful dream of them all. the whisper of cold air brushes across your bodies when he opens the door to the cold room, his own imagination going wild when he peeks at the neatly made bed, or the wooden drawer next to it, still having your wedding picture on display.
ex! husband neuvillette who takes his time in undressing you, the fear of someone taking you away from him again, even now, was still there and he wanted, no, needed to relish in this as good as possible. neuvillette wets his lips, nervous, "my love.. are you sure about this?" and he hesitated for a second— but when you tug at his own sleeves now, fondling with the expensive garment, nodding your head and expertly wrapping your digits into the thin fabric to help him out of it, he knows you wanted it as badly as he did, popping his arms back so you could pull his coat down, your mouth twisting into a subtle smile.
ex! husband neuvillette who touches you featherlight, slowly parting your legs to settle in between, and butterflies expand in your belly when you admire his beauty from up close again, his muscles twitching when you decide to lightly graze his skin with your fingertips, smoothly sliding over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. 
ex! husband neuvillette who could honestly cry the moment he first slides his cock into you again, kissing you again and again, more deeply, more feral and in need before licking into your mouth, leaving his large hand to wander down to the plush of your ass and push you into the mattress when he first bottoms out of you. you're so warm, wet and comfortable while you're clamping down on him. and neuvillette pistols his hips like an electric light, hoping he'd be able to hit so deep inside your warm cunt till you practically feel him stir up your guts.
and a moan slowly builds up in your throat as your tits brush against his strong chest— whilst neuvillette places a delicious, fast pace on you, the bare strength of his thrusts making the headboard bounce back and forth the wall as he nibbles on your bottom lip while fucking his cock into you, your gummy walls squelching at each well received pump.
ex! husband neuvillette who roughly palms your tits and plays with your nipples with his hips moving in a feral tempo— whilst those breathy, wet pleas of your name, the ones he whispered against your ear, evolve into gluttonous, hungry groans, whilst the thought about losing all of this made it more difficult for him to say anything at all, his throat acting as a trap for that one sentence he intended to spell out, the sound of it awaiting to break free— but the nervousness couldn't be surpassed as he takes a hold of your hand, desperately clutching on it before grinding his erection back into you, a pulse surging through the entirety of your walls.
ex! husband neuvillette who finds it mesmerizing on how you were so responsive to his every nibble and touch, his thudding cock diving between your legs while he fists your tits in his warm hand, your lips parting with cries and begs while meeting his hungry pace.
his hips, much bigger than yours, keep hitting into you, a lustful gaze on your facial expression clouding your mind as he makes you feel so unbelievably good, soaking your sheets as you kiss him, famished and hot, feeling his needy grunts exhaling through his lips as you clench down hard, gazes meeting once and for all, "i love you." you say, almost cry it out, and neuvillette wanted to be patient with you, claim your body to its full exhaustion afterwards, but not now, he cannot keep his cool this time— not anymore, not after you said those very three words he wasn't able to utter out all night.
you're truly driving him insane, and his body was pressing hotly against yours as you wiggle and writhe under him, puppy eyes watching him please you from under your lashes while you’re requiring more of his cock in you, please please, you say, your pussy clamping around his girth and milking him for good.
ex! husband neuvillette who tells you, "i love you too, i love you too.." in quick, fast paced syllables, and the burning veins in his body turn numb when you begin to cry out of joy and pleasure, hastily pushing your heels into his back to signal him to fuck you harder as he pounds away into your creamy pussy, dragging his hard erection along your sore walls and burning pleasure spots.
now— your nails simmer over his defined back, both sweetly indulging in each others company and the feeling of being one again, nothing else but solid, fast paced pleasure which was turning him on, so fucking much, his breathing puffed and winded, throwing his head back as you're doing your best to match his insane rhythm.
your pussy swallows him up like magic, your damp lashes tickling his shoulders as he buries his face against your neck to suck on the wet flesh, in accessory to the numerous amount of praises, declarations of love and filthy curses plastering your sweaty skin. or how about the swallowing screams and begs of your name that ripple through him as you moan out fervently, twitching under his towering body and arching your back.
oh, well? it's now or never your “ex” husband fears, and he decides to push his pulsing cock deep into your hole, deeper, just a little bit more, please! until you're desperately screaming into his shoulder, as far as it can fit into your little pussy, sending you over an intoxicating edge.
and ex! husband neuvillette was, at long last, back at where he should be, where he should've been all along, with you, making passionate and meaningful love to each other, because the man needed it, needed you close to him, and he cannot and will never again, paint the world without you in it.
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©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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synthetickitsune · 1 month
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Cozy and Comfy ✧ l.jh
Pairing: Lee Jihoon x gn!reader Genre: fluff Summary: Jihoon doesn’t understand why you like lying on top of him so much no matter how many times you explain. To be honest he isn't sure why he misses it when you suddenly stop but he'll get to the bottom of the mystery. Word count: 3.5k A/N: it's soft hours for woozi rn.
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There are a few things Jihoon values above all else. Some of these things are his privacy and personal space - understandably so, after living and spending most of his time with twelve other guys for a significant part of his life.
However, this is his private time now and even though he might not be the biggest fan of physical affection, his hand cradles your head to his chest. His other hand is on the small of your back to reassure you he’s there. 
You seem most satisfied like this, seeking out this exact position night after night whenever he comes home to you. He doesn’t mind, if he’s being completely transparent - he likes it too. This sort of intimacy that seems to help him recharge instead of draining him further. He wonders if it’s going to be the same once you live together, wonders if he’ll mind if this little ritual stops.
Jihoon remembers the beginning, when you shyly proposed the idea and he let you do whatever you wanted because he was curious. There was a wide smile on your face when you crawled between his legs and settled almost fully on top of him. You were adorable, gently rubbing your face against his chest. He teased you - are you a cat or what? He didn’t want you to get up, didn’t expect that you wouldn’t recognize the humor in his voice. Before he could say anything, his body reacted on its own to stop you. It felt even better when he was holding you, he discovered. And his touch was enough to let you know he wants you to stay right there.
And now here you are.
Today your hand is stretched slightly so you can play with his hair. It’s getting inconvenient at this length but he has to admit your attention makes it slightly better. He lets you mess with the tips and pull at them gently. He even allows you to loosely braid the strands you can reach. Maybe it’s that he’s already slowly drifting off, maybe it’s that he’s just in love.
He’d like to have more time with you, but the nights usually end like this - with him suddenly falling asleep before he can realize how tired he is and you waking him up so softly and gently he doesn’t mind it at all. It’s nice, if he’s honest. To have someone to trust, to have you slowly lead him to the bedroom. You look so sheepish after having to wake him up that it always feels like the first time you gave him the privilege to be led to your room. 
It’s the perfect way to spend the night. This way he gets to fall asleep next to you twice instead of just once.
Jihoon doesn’t understand why you like lying on top of him so much no matter how many times you explain. Not that he minds - he just can’t comprehend what you’re saying to him.
He doesn’t get your excited you’re so cozy and comfy. He gets that he’s warm, sure, or that you like hearing his heartbeat. He also likes it when you sometimes sneak your hand under his shirt and put it above his heart. Just as he’s fond of moments when nothing can help you relax but lying like this while you’re both naked, with nothing but a blanket covering you. Hell, it’s nice is fine too. But the rest of it? It’s just confusing.
What he also doesn’t understand, and what pretty much solves the question of whether he’d miss lying with you like this if you stopped doing it as often, is what’s been going on these past few days.
It’s not literally always that you lie on top of him, sometimes it’s too hot or you’re just not feeling as affectionate or one of you is in pain or sick. But none of this applies now. He knows this because it’s definitely not hot, he checked that you’re feeling fine, and you’re all over him otherwise. 
It’s just that you won’t take part in your little ritual. 
Last night you did for a bit but you were restless and squirming until you gave up and laid tucked into his side. Now, he’s not complaining about that - it also feels nice but it’s not exactly what he’s used to and what he started to look forward to each day that he’s spending with you.
On the fourth day he cracks and once he lies down, he opens his arms for you. Jihoon knows he’s cheating because you never say no if he explicitly asks for any type of affection. He figures there’s no harm, though, thinking that maybe you’re just feeling a little self conscious as you sometimes do. He sees the surprise on your face, feels reassured by the giddy laugh from your lips and how happily you take your place where you belong. He might hold you just a little tighter for a bit. Just maybe. He pretends he doesn’t know he’s doing it.
Yet even though everything seemed fine, like things returned to normal, they didn’t. You’re trying to hide it, but it’s impossible to mask your squirming when you’re literally on top of him.
“Is everything alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed into a concerned frown. Are you feeling uncomfortable with the position all of a sudden? Are you hurt? He trusts you to say something if that was the case, but maybe you needed some encouragement? Needed him to show that he cares? His hold loses some of its strength.
“Yeah, why?” you turn your head to look at him. To your credit, you keep lying on him, and even if your voice is nothing but curious, he feels like you’re calling him out. Daring him to say he misses the affection he sometimes playfully teases you about. He contemplates for a moment before he decides that he trusts you. Really trusts you. And he’s… worried.
He might not understand what you mean by him being cozy and comfy to lay on but he knows it’s what he wants to be. He doesn’t think anything about him changed, so he wonders if maybe he did something that changed your perception of him. He licks his lips, ready, and then groans nonetheless. He knows you won’t tell anyone, but still…
“It’s just, uh, you don’t seem comfortable and I don’t know, did something happen? Did I do something?”
His hand moves from the back of your head to your face, gently caressing your face with his fingers. Did you maybe just feel uncomfortable sharing whatever is the issue with him? He doesn’t know why you’d feel that way, but he’s ready to do whatever he needs to if it means getting your trust back.
“Hey, Jihoon,” you call his name softly, as if you knew just what was going on in his head. You scoot closer to him, a movement which naturally makes him curl an arm around your waist. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing.”
“Yeah?” he asks and immediately cringes at how defensive he sounds, “Sorry.”
You smile and pull away, slowly moving to straddle him once he lets you. Soon you guide his hands back to your waist. 
“Have you started working out more?” you ask and it makes the frown on Jihoon’s face deepen.
“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugs. If anything, it was a struggle to fit the work outs into his schedule. He couldn’t have more of them if he wanted to. “Why? Do you think I should - or should work out less?”
“No, not at all,” you’re quick to reassure him, “It’s just that your body is, uhm, harder lately.”
Your voice gets weaker towards the end, but not enough that he would have trouble hearing you, although he can’t really imagine what you mean. 
“Explain?” he asks, blinking a couple times. You groan, leaning down to hide your face in his shoulder.
“It’s just that, well, usually you’re kind of soft and comfortable? Like not soft soft but just, I don’t know, nice to lay on,” you rush with the explanation but that’s okay - so far Jihoon understands nothing anyway, “But lately you’re so hard - your body, I mean. Like you’re turning into a rock or something. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it at the gym?”
It’s a bit too much information that he doesn’t know what to do with. Again, he’s not sure what you mean exactly, so he stares at you for a second or two before he finally speaks up.
“We started adding more weights recently, so maybe,” he shrugs.
“And you didn’t notice something is different?” you ask, rising from your hiding spot. You seem confused - just as confused as he is.
“Well it’s not like I poke myself to know what my body feels like, y/n,” he deadpans, “I’m more sore but something hurts all the time, so I can’t say I noticed much of a difference.”
He watches as your expression morphs into one of concern and he’s so grateful for his quick reflexes that allow him to pull you down before you can get up from his lap. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me when it hurts, right?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. He smiles softly and nods. He’s glad when you relax, but he keeps his hands on your hips anyway. “You rest enough, right?”
He resists rolling his eyes and just confirms instead. “You know I have to take care of my body if I want to do this for a long time - and that includes rest.”
“And eating proper meals,” you remind him. He chuckles, agreeing with you easily. “If you’re short on time and need a meal quickly just let me know.”
He smiles, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kisses the back of your hand. He’s grateful for you, truly. But he can’t help but wonder if you know how much you’re actually doing for him. If you’re aware even all the little things add up.
“I appreciate that, but you know I can just order-” 
Before he can finish the sentence, there’s a finger pressed against his lips. He doesn’t protest upon seeing the determination in your eyes. “You know what I want to say, right?”
“Of course,” he sighs, his lips still turned up, “And you know I enjoy when you cook for me.”
The way you beam at him one would think he’s never told you before. But he did. Every time. Because it was true and the least he could do.
It gets quiet for a while, but Jihoon’s happy enough to know that nothing’s wrong. He knows his overworked muscles will eventually get stronger and heal, returning to their original consistency that was apparently soft but not soft soft. There’s always a chance that you’ll get over your fondness for this particular position, but that’s something only time will tell. For what it’s worth in the eyes of fate, he hopes you never will.
With the crisis over, his body starts to feel the day again. As if all the aches simply hid to make room for his insecurity and only now started to come back once the air cleared. He tries to push back the yawn, but fails yet again. He hears you shake your head, well familiar with the sight. He holds you tighter before you can think about leaving.
“We can move to bed, you’ll fall asleep soon anyway,” you rub your hands over his chest, but Jihoon is nothing if not stubborn. So despite his aching body, he flips you sideways and traps you between his body and the edge of the couch. He takes more pride than he probably should from the fact that you cling to him despite his not soft body. He’s holding you. He wouldn’t let you fall. 
“In a while, I like this thing we have,” he mumbles, taking advantage of your face still buried in his chest where you can’t see the longing in his eyes.
You know it’s a lost fight anyway, and it’s not hard to oblige when the prize is being held by Jihoon and relaxing watching whatever you put on. He always tells you that the pillows are more comfortable than him, but you’re pretty sure you saw him frowning while you took one to put under your head.
You settle into a more comfortable position with your back against his chest and his arm loosely thrown over your waist. You can’t even remember the last time you spooned like this. It’s nice. Regardless, you miss your usual position. It allows you to watch him once he falls asleep, and his heartbeat is nicer under your palm or your ear instead of against your spine.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel as his breathing evens out against your neck. His face is buried in your hair and you don’t understand how that can be comfortable. You won’t complain, though, when you are so perfectly surrounded by his warmth. You feel your own eyes becoming heavy. You’re actually looking forward to your bed, but you don’t have the heart to wake up Jihoon yet. It’s always a gamble, trying to allow him to sleep for as long as you can without falling asleep yourself, but you have yet to lose. You are responsible for his comfort, after all. And that’s a job you do best.
Things get back to how they were eventually. Jihoon’s body regenerated enough that it’s returned to the cozy state now, even though he still has some reservations regarding the label. One day you went as far as to call his biceps squishy, which he has yet to process. 
Overall, though, things are peaceful.
Just as he wanted.
Only today was tough. Really tough.
One of those days he’s so grateful he could cry for taxis being a thing. He doesn’t know how he’d make it home otherwise and still he managed to doze off in the car. At least he’s familiar enough with the route to your apartment that he can manage it even half asleep. It’s a small miracle he doesn’t stumble and fall on the stairs.
You on the other hand think it’s a miracle he’s made it this far without passing out cold.
The moment you opened the door - or more precisely the moment you had to open the door you knew something was wrong. If your boyfriend can’t even unlock the door himself, something is very wrong.
It’s heartbreaking to see him like this, but at least he’s out of it enough not to mind your concerned gaze on him as he shoos you away so he can take off his shoes. A herculean task it seems because it takes him forever. You’re close to telling him to just come in anyway when he pulls them off at the last second.
You help him straighten up under the guise of taking off his jacket - something he usually doesn’t allow either, but it’s not wildly off limits. Neither is hugging him as a greeting. If you cling to him a little to help him to the bedroom, that’s between you and the sky above because you believe he falls asleep on you for a minute there. A belief that comes concerningly close to being the truth when he blinks and looks around the room as if he had no idea where he is.
“This is the bedroom,” he slurs the words together, but at least you know he’s not sleepwalking yet.
“Yeah - look at you, Jihoon. Where else do you think we should be?” you chide, gently. He can be moody when he’s tired, though you think he’s not in a state where his brain is capable of processing something as complex as a mood.
Instead of answering, he nods in the vague direction of the living room. You have half a mind to scold him, but then think better of it. Another thing about tired Jihoon is that he’s even more stubborn. 
“Okay, sure, we can go there, but wash up first, hm?” you instruct him and turn to walk away when he grabs your wrist. His hand falls limply back down, but it achieves what he wanted.
“Why? I’ll do it later,” he argues, frown pulling at his features.
“You won’t, love, and we both know it. Now, you can either wash up yourself while I heat up some food, or I can help you and then get you the food, so?” 
One more thing about Jihoon is that he’s infuriatingly determined to take care of himself without relying on others. Especially when it comes to you.
He’s getting better though. You see it when his lips pout slightly but he still gets up and heads to the bathroom.
You take that as your sign to head to the kitchen to warm up the soup you made earlier. It’s not much, but you hope he’ll be stronger later and you’ll manage to persuade him to eat a proper meal. For now, though, the soup will have to do. You don’t think he would manage anything requiring him to put actual effort into eating.
Just as you begin pouring the warm substance into a bowl, you hear footsteps in the living room. You follow their trail across the room in your head and then breathe a sigh of relief at the soft thud where the couch should be. You carry the soup over, not too hot, just the right temperature to eat.
Jihoon is already sitting there, although it looks like he’d much rather fall sideways and sleep. You hand him the bowl carefully, however you never get to give him the spoon as he just drinks the liquid straight from the bowl. You sigh, but leave him to it and carry the utensil back to the kitchen. He’s done with the soup when you return, but he looks so miserable that you decide to put the dirty dish further away on the table and deal with it later. 
You sit down next to him but don’t stay put for too long, lying down and opening your arms for him. He looks at you with pure confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on,” you sigh, motioning for him to lay down. He looks hesitant, if a bit more awake.
“I’m heavy,” he counters.
“Weighted blanket. Stop fighting and just lay down. I’ll push you off if it’s too much,” you raise your brows at him in a clear challenge. He might be more stubborn, but you’d win this fight since you wouldn’t fall asleep halfway through it. He sighs, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. He does move though, and you make space for him between your legs, helping him settle over your body. All that working out and yet he struggles to hold himself above you, his body shaking with the effort.
“It’s alright, lie down,” you coax him, slowly. He all but melts over you once your bodies touch, like butter on a warm toast. He looks so comfortable you feel a little bad for guiding him to a more comfortable position with his head on your chest. It’s for him to lay comfortably, of course, but it also gives you easy access to his hair. 
First you smooth any stray hair away from his face, maybe taking just a second to caress his skin while he allows the affection. Your fingers glide through the locks without any trouble. Again and again you brush your fingers through them, enjoying the texture, scratching across his scalp like you know he likes. You think how much you’ll miss this when he cuts his hair short again.
“Stop, I’ll fall asleep,” he murmurs, words barely recognizable, “I haven’t asked about your day yet.”
You sigh - try to, really hard you try, but fail harder. You just laugh, in love. 
“It wasn’t anything special,” you assure him, “There’s always later if you’re curious.”
You think he tries to nod, a little jerk of his head against your chest. He presses his face further into your chest, his ear right above your heart. You know the feeling well, holding your breath - hoping. Hoping he’ll find the same comfort in you as you find in him.
“It’s really nice,” he more so breathes than whispers. And soon enough, his breathing slows down and evens out, his body getting heavier like a blanket pushing you into the cushions of the couch.
You smile for a second, and then return to playing with his hair.
This is what home should feel like, you decide. Like the trust he puts in you by letting his guard down, like the unconditional love he shows you by always holding you while he falls asleep - but also like the safety in knowing there will be a new day and nothing will change.
You’ll still have each other.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months
Text
bruised knees
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words: 2.1k
warnings: mentions of blowjobs, losing virginity, virgin!reader (but fic is not smut), jealous! and overprotective!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, fluffy
rafe has been beyond overprotective of you his whole life. ever since you met in first grade and you let him borrow your brand new crayon box, only for a bully to come up and tug on your pigtails, causing rafe to pause his coloring to shove him away and tell him not to touch you ever again.
you smiled at rafe, the same smile you look at him with now, and he knew he would take care of you no matter what. you hugged him tightly and from that day on always shared your crayons, and everything else you had, with your new best friend.
“ready?” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the boat.
“yes!” you squeal, trying to navigate holding your tote bag and backpack at once, when suddenly both are out of your hands as rafe takes them and carries them down the pier.
“rafe, i can carry my own stuff.” you roll your eyes. it's a losing battle, your best friend will always lessen your load, hating seeing you do any sort of physical labor, feeling like that's his job.
“yeah, whatever.” rafe just ignores your argument, it's one he's heard so many times before, yet you make no attempt to take the bags back. “who all did you invite again?” rafe asks as you enter onto the boat, quickly beginning preparations for the day at sea, having gone through the motions so many times, knowing the boat like the back of your hand even though it's the cameron familys.
“uhh, topper, tina, kelce, steph, tiffy and hayden.” you go through the list of names in your head of friends that will be joining you and rafe on the yacht.
“how is tiffy since the break up?” rafe asks, knowing you like to talk while you work, pulling various lines while you straighten up the boat to make it more presentable, going through the motions together, always together.
rafes question launches you into a gossip session with rafe, spilling all the secrets your friends told you at your last hang out, but they know you don't keep anything from rafe, so it's no surprise when he knows as well, not that any of the girls would complain, rafe often takes over the role of protector to your friends as well, caring about who you care about.
“there's hayden!” you call to rafe, pointing down the dock to the parking lot where haydens truck just pulled in, a few minutes earlier than you expected anyone to start arriving.
“great.” rafe mumbles under his breath, making sure you don't hear his upset tone. he liked hayden at first, sharing some common interests (mostly golf), but then hayden got far too touchy with you, his gaze heating when it turned to you in a way that infuriated rafe, and he made sure to show hayden when you weren't around how much it pissed him off.
rafe is probably to credit for you never having a boyfriend for an extended period of time, but he can't help it, you're so perfect and no guy can possibly deserve you, so he has to scare them off before you get too invested and give them all of your attention instead of him.
“hey, heyds.” you greet him with a hug after he makes his way down the pier, making rafe grunts as haydens hand rests a little too low on your back for his liking, making rafes mind reel at the possibility of something going on between the two of you.
your other friends slowly begin to pile onto the boat, steph being the last one to get there as she is notorious for being late, which is why you told her to show up half an hour before everyone else, and somehow still managed to get there last.
“ready for takeoff?” you ask rafe, stepping away to join him at the wheel while your group of friends find places to sit while rafe navigates the boat towards the ocean.
“i am.” rafe nods, having disconnected the last line. no matter what is happening, you always sit next to rafe on the bench as he directs the boat, ready to be his second in command at any moment, even if its just fetching him a drink or checking the water depth.
“i can’t wait to swim.” you say with a sigh, having not gotten out into the water all week, which is rare with how much peace you find in the ocean.
“how about that one sandbar we took wheezie to?” rafe questions, wanting you to decide where he anchors the boat.
“ooh, yes.” you nod.
“she complained to me last night that you weren’t over.” rafe smiles at you when you let out a laugh.
“i don’t spend one friday night and she complains! ugh, i love that girl.” you grin thinking about wheezie, treating her like she’s your own little sister, having known her since she was born.
“you’ll stay tonight, right?” rafe asks, missing you sharing his bed like you do every weekend. 
“mhm, i’m not driving home after being out on the boat all day, gonna be so exhausted.” you roll your eyes.
rafe smiles at you, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, leaving him to drive with one hand, but wanting you close to him, secretly hoping hayden would look through the windows from the lower deck and see you all cuddled up into his side.
neither of you have ever broached the topic of taking things beyond just friendship, despite rafe desperately wanting to take things further, he doesn’t want to mess up the one good thing he has in his life. you’re such a source of brightness that when you’re around him he forgets all about his fights with his dad, or issues with barry.
“here.” rafe nods to you, immediately going to drop the anchor, planning to stay in one spot all day.
you help him make sure its secure before moving to the main deck with everyone else. “alright, who is ready to swim?” you shout with glee.
“you know i am.” hayden smirks at you, pulling his shirt off over his head.
“mhm, that’s why i like you, not afraid to get wet.” you say, rafe carefully watching the interaction, unsure if you meant the innuendo or not.
you take your tshirt off as well, tossing it onto the pile that everyone is making on the sofa, revealing swimsuits underneath their clothes. rafe also undresses, but slowly and quietly.
you tug your yoga pants down next, having kicked your shoes off upon entering the boat. you turn towards rafe, always checking in with him, seeking him out amongst the crowd.
rafe smiles at you, his eyes dropping subtly down your body, quickly checking out your pale lilac swimsuit before he sees a different shade of purple, this time blossoming around your knees.
hayden seems to notice too, a smirk growing on his face when he sees the localized bruises.
“what the fuck did you do?” rafe grunts out before he can stop himself and use the calming methods you so carefully taught him.
“what?” hayden turns to look at rafe, but he’s already charging at him. rafe shoves hayden backwards, making him stumble but he manages to maintain his footing.
“rafe, chill!” you shout, grabbing at his arm.
“did he-did you fucking blow him?” rafe questions, pointing to your knees. “how did you get those bruises?” “jesus, rafe!” you take a step back, but don’t drop your grip on his arm, not sure if he would try to pull away. “you seriously ask me that in front of all our friends? for your information i was working out in the garden yesterday and bruised my knees kneeling on the pavers. but thanks for embarrassing me.”
you drop his arm when you feel tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning and sprinting into the interior of the boat.
you throw yourself onto the bed in one of the two bedrooms, hiding your face in the white pillow as you cry. 
“y/n…” rafe says softly. you don’t jump at his voice, you expected him to follow you, but you don’t feel like talking to him.
“please, y/n.” rafe pleads, and you feel his weight dip the bed down as he climbs onto the mattress.
“stop it.” you whine when rafe pulls you into him, but you don’t struggle as he cuddles into you, pressing a kiss against your hair. you’ve cuddled rafe before, of course since you’ve been friends for so long, but never with this little clothing on, and you are very aware of how much of his bare skin is touching yours.
“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, y/n. i just… i just got so angry thinking about you possibly doing anything with hayden. i don’t like him. he’s not good enough for you.”
“why would you even think i would do that though? you know im a virgin.”
the words shock rafe, and you can physically feel him tense up. you pick up your head to look at him, brows furrowed together.
“i-i didn’t know that.” rafe just assumed you lost it to one of your short term boyfriends.
“no… no i would have told you, rafey. you’re my best friend, i… you told me when you lost yours.” you remind rafe of when he was 16 years old and had sex for the first time, calling you only an hour after to confide in you, partly hoping you would get jealous.
“i thought you knew that i wouldn’t want to hear about you sleeping with someone. i guess i just figured you kept it to yourself for my sake.” rafe doesn’t realize the implication of his words as they flow from between his lips.
“why would i?- wait… you like me?” you blink up at him.
rafe pauses. now is as good as time as any, especially with the growing threat of hayden and other guys who aren’t scared of rafe potentially taking you away from him. “yes. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since first grade.” “holy shit, you asshole!” you shout, and it’s not the reaction rafe was expecting as he tenses, waiting for you to run off, or get mad, but instead your shout turns into a laugh, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!” and then your lips are on his, finally feeling the perfect meld of your mouths together as rafe quickly snaps into action, his lips moving against yours as he cups your face.
“i love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious.” you whisper against his mouth before resuming the kiss.
“thank fuck, i was ready to murder hayden just because i thought you liked him.” rafe laughs, tugging on your waist to bring your bodies even closer together, leaving his large hand resting against your bare back.
“pshht.” you shake your head. “he’s not even half the man you are.” 
“holy shit, i love you.” rafe repeats, taking you in for another kiss.
“my friends are never gonna believe that we finally got together.” you giggle. “i think they’ve all placed bets.”
“your friends?” rafe shakes his head. “baby, i think even our parents have.”
“i… i’m really happy we admitted are feelings.” you say shyly, a blush covering your cheeks as you look down, breaking eye contact. “everyone told me that you liked me too but i was too nervous to ruin what we had.”
“hey, it’s okay.” rafe says softly. “we have forever this way.”
you feel tears well up in your eyes again as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head into his bare chest.
“gosh, i can’t wait to go tell everyone.” you admit with a giggle.
“yeah? wanna go get in the water too?” rafe asks, unsure if your friends waiting for your argument to be over to swim.
“hell yeah.” you slide off the bed, rafe taking a minute to check out your body, not hiding his heated gaze as you catch him.
“holy shit, you are checking me out!” 
“duh, you’re my girl now.” rafe smirks, also getting off the bed, placing an arm around your shoulder. “gonna give you bruised knees for a different reason, baby.”
“wait, rafe-” you begin, suddenly not feeling like swimming anymore, but he pulls you out onto the deck, seeing all your friends sitting awkwardly on the sofas, waiting for whatever argument to be over with.
“don’t worry baby.” rafe drops his mouth to your ear, making sure your friends can’t hear. “we can talk about that virginity of yours later.” rafe doesn’t give you a second to respond, placing his fingers on your chin and tilting your head towards him to press a kiss to your lips to the chorus of all of your friends letting out woops and claps, along with shouts of “finally!”
“i told you!” tiffy shouts, holding her hand out towards stephanie. “you owe me 20 bucks!”
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fillinforlater · 2 months
Text
Eleven to One: Smart Submission
Male Reader x Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon
Length: 3196 words
Tags: Daddy kink, sensual blowjob, stand and carry, sex against the wall, making out, Breeding kink, Breeding talk, rough sex, hate sex, degradation, cursing riding, cowgirl, doggy, spanking, anal, anal doggy, sex toys, obedient!Minju, obedient?Chaewon
TW: the usual for this series, rough sex, degradation, cursing at idols, extreme Daddy kink
Inspiration: Chaewon's Smart fancams, Minju's Sequence fancams
(A/N: Fuck, it's been a while. I lost a bunch of progress and had to pivot, hope you like this though. More fics coming up, hopefully deep into April. Can't promise anything for May though. It's gonna be a stressful time.)
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“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I need you, Daddy.” Send by Yujin
You put down your phone with a smile of satisfaction and excitement. It’s a rather odd mix of emotions; there should not be satisfaction when the excitement still makes you yearn for something, but at the same time, it's this yearning that makes you feel at ease. 
Yujin is on your phone, countless pictures of her incredible stage outfit which you will have to tear off her body again, not caring about the costs or the annoyed company staff. Yujin is also on the hotel room TV in the form of fancams. You put on a playlist to kill some time before the evening can begin and seeing her look so confident, thrilled and sexy has you bothered and ready.
“Oh, so that’s why I heard Kitsch on repeat.” You turn your head towards the bathroom door of this, for your standards, humble yet cozy hotel room. Minju has just walked out, a cloud of steam still behind her, a rather loose towel around her body as she dries her hair. “Our daeng-daeng is really pretty.”
“That’s true, very true,” you say with a sigh and look back at the TV where Yujin’s charisma jumps at you in the form of a wink. Suddenly, Minju’s hands are at your shoulders, rubbing, going down to your chest and rubbing a bit more.
“Minmin knows what Daddy is thinking.” She did not need to sound that sultry and tempting. A moment where her cuteness and klutziness is gone and Minju becomes a vixen, comparable to Yujin, maybe Eunbi. She learned from watching them, her admiration has let her to now drop the adorable person you so love about her—luckily, she also drops her towel, so you cannot complain about her boldness.
“So what am I thinking about, Minju?” Play hard to get, because that’s exactly what you’re going to teach her: no matter how hot or irresistible she may seem, you can be absolutely out of reach. It is after all always up to you.
“Daddy always thinks about sex.” Minju walks over, kneels on the couch and bends down towards your crotch, never breaking eye contact. A strain of wet hair tucked behind her ear, she whispers. “Daddy is always hard, especially because of Yujinnie~”
“Go check for yourself,” you challenge her and unzip your jeans (been a while since you wore something this leisurely). Minju eagerly gets them down until she expects your hard shaft to spring out and hit her cheek, but to her surprise, you are not hard. 
“Wow, Daddy is this big even now~”
“You want to suck it?” More of an observation than a question as Minju’s lips already approach your tip.
“Can Minmin suck it, kiss it, put it in her mouth?”
“Go ahead, I’ll give you a reward if you get me hard.” She is too cute again. A nod and she is eager to give your cock all the kisses. Of course she starts off with the head, makes sure to run her tongue past her lips and along your slit, then she moves down the underside while resting it on her face. Minju’s dedication to worshiping her favorite cock is unmatched, her hums and moans spread in between all the licks and kisses sound like impure devotion. 
You put a hand in her messy hazelnut strands and gently comb through them. In the background yet another fancam concludes with Yujin oozing all her stage presence and sex appeal into the camera. You turn down the volume to hear Minju’s blowjob better, but the visual distraction stays. Now it’s a Minju fancam, Sequence, legendary. The former idol tilts her head when she notices it while simultaneously taking your inches down her throat. Amazing bliss, you twitch.
“You looked very hot back then, so fucking tight,” you groan. “Unbelievable that you’re even sexier now.”
“It’s all because of Daddy and Yujin—you never stop and I have to keep up. It’s endless training, every day. Maybe this is eternal youth.” She bops her head up and down and you don’t know if she really said those words. Too much wisdom for someone who is back at your balls with her lips while she gags around the stiffening snake. Give her hips a good squeeze to check if it’s still the same Minju—yup, no doubt. 
“Your hips were so wide back then, but I think they have grown more since you moved in.” You give her a congratulatory smack and Minju giggles around your length. She looks divine with one hand on your base and every part of your face magnetically drawn to where she wants to get your baby batter out. Though you never relinquished control, she still has you in a semi-hard state and your mind in the depths of impurity. “Get up.”
“O-okay, Daddy.” Minju does as told and you marvel at her nude body for a second.
“That was brilliant, don’t get me wrong,” you tell her and reach for her curvy, milky, freshly cleaned thighs. “But I want something else wrapped around me.”
As if she can read your mind, Minju jumps up and her arms and legs embrace your upper body. All you need to do is carry her on her petite ass cheeks which fill out your hands nicely. The miniscule weight of hers is easily lifted so you two are face to face. Before your lips connect, you quickly get hold of your dick and press it against her moist folds. Moist is an understatement: Minju is drenched in excitement and takes you easily.
“Oh God,” Minju moans and her eyes disappear for a moment in the back of her head where you know is nothing but the endless feeling of joy your cock brings her. A few thrusts and she will be mindless, the dumb, breedable klutz she so often seems to be. Her legs choke your hips against hers and soon after, you two engage in a kiss that sets you on fire.
Upwards is the way, the hardest way, the best way. Minju is split open time and time again, her whole body enthusiastically shaking on every impact or at the mere prospect of another. Whenever you’re not tongue fucking her mouth, the fucking of her cunt leaves her breathless, whiny, and groaning like a madman. She is mad, crazy for you and with the intoxicating smell of her shampoo, her sweat, her sex, you’re going crazy as well.
“Fuck, Minju, you’re pussy is so warm,” you mumble and stumble forward. You press Minju against the wall next to the TV where you both listen to her verse from Panorama with the sound of loud skin slapping against skin being an obnoxious, yet welcome interruption. Minju’s hands have left your nape and start to crawl up the wall as if she tries to get higher. She wants to crash down harder on your cock, wants you to go rougher, her end is nye. The constant hits against her cervix bring one thought to the forefront—and it is not the potential people on the other side of the wall who are surely enraged.
“One day,” you whisper, leaning into Minju’s ear, covered by ruined hair that she has to wash again tonight. “I’m going to cum inside your pussy without protection.” Minju gasps, almost at her peak. You slam her back hard against the wall, fingers tearing at the skin of her ass. “I will breed you, over and over again, and we will have many beautiful children. Minju, you will be bred, pregnant all the time, so I want you to love this.”
A chaotic thrust up, against every inhibition she might have, past the final strings that hold together her sanity, her reasoning. Minju orgasms with a booming scream and her cunt does everything in its power to suck the fertile batter out of you. The seed you promised, she needs it at this very moment. Only a quick pullout can save you, Minju’s power and will to be bred leaving you stunned. 
She takes deep breaths in your arms as you carry her back to the couch, her eyes sparkle though you cannot make out if it is because of happiness or disappointment. “Why did Daddy pull out? We need to train, Minmin needs to be filled many, many times.”
“Sorry, but not tonight.” You free her forehead of her hair, some of which looks like it exploded all over her face. “I promised someone else my biggest load of today. We have to wait for her though—”
Suddenly, as if you spoke a spell to summon someone, a knock can be heard. 
“Come on in!” you shout, but all you hear is a disgusted shriek. Well, it’s certainly not Yujin nor any of your other usual guests. It’s someone that is on the fringes though, not ready to admit that she is addicted to you. The thrill brings her back, the pleasure will make her stay, but for now it’s this excuse that makes her wait for you to open the door.
“Ugh, you—wait, the fuck, put on some clothes!”
“Why don’t you get rid of yours, Chaewon,” you quickly respond and just as swiftly pull her into the hotel room. Chaewon is wrapped in a basic yet effective outfit to hide her identity. A large black overcoat, sunglasses, a mask, basic sweatpants. With a groan she reveals the excitement that is below them: a stage outfit from her recent comeback stages, along with a surprising lack of pants and most exciting of all: golden blonde hair. 
“Don’t stare at me you perv,” Chaewon barks and folds her arms in front of her chest. You notice her gaze dropping down to your cock again and you wish she would just drop to her knees and clean Minju’s nectar off of you (she would in a heartbeat if you told her about why it’s glistening like that), but you instead walk back over to Minju and lean down to kiss her. “What do you thi—Mi-Minju, you’re here?!”
“Oh, Chaewon-unnie, I’m always with Daddy, don’t you know?”
“B-but you could also stay somewhere else, like, like with your parents or with m-me…”
“Yeah, Minju,” you add cynically, only focused on the loyal girl below you clinging to your lips and your back. You make your way down her cheek, her jaw to her neck. “You could stay in the LE SSERAFIM dorm with Chaewon, so why are you still here?”
“Minmin wants to stay with Daddy! Minmin needs to be ready for when the time is right.”
Chaewon raises an eyebrow as sweat pours down her face. Her thighs are awfully close to one another, rubbing, her core is in heat as she watches Minju melt under your tongue. The ‘fearless’ group leader does not need to ask, because Minju spills the beans when you push her further down into the couch.
“Daddy, I need to be around Daddy when he wants to breed me, make me a pregnant woman, I don’t want to miss it.”
“That’s fucking enough!”
The stinging pain of your hair getting pulled makes you hiss almost triumphantly. Chaewon has been set off again and she drags you away from Minju’s delicious body and positions her own on top of you. A short, half-hearted wrestle later and she sits on your crotch, the panties below her colorful outfit already caressing your tip. One of her hands is still in your hair, the other pushes your chest against the back of the couch. She is livid.
“Oh, so you want to fight for her again.”
“Shut up.”
“You know that you failed miserably the last time, right? There is no reason to believe that you’ve gotten any better at making me—”
“Shut up!”
“You tiny thing, you’re talking big game for so—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Chaewon pulls her panties to the side, you reach for her hips and get a good hold onto them. “I’ll make you shut up, you perverted bastard!”
Chaewon sinks down on your cock and not only do you notice the wetness all over her pussy walls, you also find that she is needy for this cock. A ripple of satisfaction roams her body and in a moment of carelessness, Chaewon tilts her head back. You know that she is just enjoying the feeling and could take advantage of that. Instead, you have another taunt lined up for her.
“Oh no, I can already feel my mouth being sealed. I can barely speak.”
“Soon enough,” Chaewon groans and starts to gyrate her hips. Unlike the first time she challenged you over Minju, Chaewon feels significantly better. Wetness, tightness, texture—you can’t yet pinpoint why or how, but it has definitely improved. However, with Chaewon so cock-drunk and unable to slam herself down, this is a laughable effort. A pathetic little hop here, a loose hand on your neck, undeniable desire to be fucked in her eyes—Chaewon’s body is already admitting it.
“Hm, I love it… wh-when your quiet,” she moans, tries to search the submission in your gaze. A futile effort and you expose her with both hands on her back. “What are you doing?”
“Chaewon, you’re embarrassing. To think this would get me close—” Without warning, you tear her outfit apart. A tilt of your head and Minju helps out and gets Chaewon out of the mess of tatters you leave. Chaewon looks confused, also helpless and when you spank her ass, she knows she has to move to the stage of acceptance fast. “Let me show you how to break someone.”
“Wait, I—” 
She falls apart in your lap. Really, it’s only a few harsh thrusts, and Chaewon hits your chest. She is a ragdoll that can whine and moan but otherwise is only a sextoy you have to move on your own. Both feet firmly on the ground, you push all your energy in those lower muscles to repeat this motion of rough fucking endlessly. Chaewon should feel that your power never runs out, that you can fuck her as hard and as much as you want. 
“You dumb cumdump!” Smack her ass again, then grab her long strands of gold-colored hair. “Your body knows it, your mind might too—now I need your silly mouth to admit it.”
Chaewon moans and her moan reaches a new pitch when you pull apart her asscheeks to pick her up and drop her down on your shaft. She is coating your crotch with her horny juice, drools over your chest, sweats on the hotel room couch. Chaewon is a dirty girl, so you will sully her more; more accurately, you will show her dirtiness to her beloved Minju. 
“Kneel on the couch, slut! Show me your ass.” Little resistance only. You quickly get behind her, adjust her towards Minju and rub your cock against her asshole. “Look at her. Can you even focus your blurry eyes on her?”
“I-I can…”
“Really?” Push your tip against her hole and feel her flinch in your arms. If she’d really want to, she could flee or at least fight back. Needless to say, she does not. “At least resist me, because your ass doesn’t. Just a bit of force—”
“Oh God!”
“—and I’m inside.” 
You grab Chaewon’s tits and treat these soft hills very not-softly. Your thumb and index pinch her nipples, the groping is hard, though nothing compared to the ass fucking she receives. Her anal cavity, which should be incredibly tight, gapes for you easily. 
Apart from groans, screams and the occasional expletive, Chaewon does not speak anymore. She must know that the next thing she says will betray her fundamentals, oh, those silly fundamentals: never giving up, always fighting for Minju, beating you after becoming better. Now, she is another one of your sluts, who bends over for you, spreads her ass for you and produces silly sounds from all her openings.
“The decision is so easy.
“You don’t make it look easy.
“You’re not smart, Chaewon.
“Stop resisting me.
“Say it.”
Suddenly, Chaewon is trapped between you and Minju. She could rest her head on the younger girl’s bosom, but she does not dare to. The thought of failure and losing this battle so decisively leaves her shattered. This state does not last for long however, as she sees how happy Minju’s eyes glisten in the warm light of the hotel room. It’s fine to lose, it’s good to lose.
“I-I’m yours, Daddy.”
“Do you fucking mean it, whore?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m your s-slutty whore.”
“Fantastic. Minju, bring me the bag of those from the bedroom. We need to celebrate that Chaewon is finally honest with herself.”
You move back to your original position with Chaewon on your lap, cock still balls deep in her asshole. She sniffles a bit, hisses when you nibble at her neck and play with all three of her sensitive nubs quickly. A new toy must be checked properly and this is definitely something that you can work with later. Minju returns with the bag and you reach into it. 
“Your ass is already pretty wide, so this should fit.” You pull out a large, shiny butt plug with a diamond that will decorate her sore butt cheeks perfectly. “Make sure to keep yourself spread when I pull out.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
You slowly drag your cock out. Instead of immediately filling her hole, you instead inspect how it gapes wide, then clenches around nothing. Chaewon shivers on your lap. You order Minju to check it out as well, which almost makes Chaewon cry from embarrassment. 
“No need to feel ashamed,” you laugh. “I think Minju likes it as much as I do.”
“It looks very hot, Unnie, I think Daddy can fuck it many times.”
“D-don’t say it like that,” Chaewon faintly whispers. You push the butt plug inside her and feel her breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t have to show herself off anymore. The three of you get up from the couch.
“Minju, make sure to securely tie your friends arms, while I get this ready.” This is a see through dildo, almost as big as your cock and still very much dry. To get it well-lubricated for Chaewon’s pussy, you shove it into her mouth and make sure she has to deepthroat it. Chaewon might have dodged you if it weren’t for Minju, who has tied ropes around her wrists and lower arms. Only when tears leave her eyes, you pull the dildo out and place it on the small living room table in front of the couch. 
“Sit down on it, but don’t move. No fucking yourself. This will be your first real punishment.” Before Chaewon can protest (or maybe she opened her mouth to accept it and praise you) you force a ball gag into her mouth and watch her shout inaudible things as her pussy is split open again. 
“Now, you can watch Minju and I make out until the next person—”
A knock on the hotel room door, again. 
“Speak of the devil.”
1K notes · View notes
maiko-san · 4 months
Text
Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 4 )
<<< Part 3
Relationship : Fluff
Warning : None (?)
Plot : Every time you enter the Playcare you feel eyes watching you everywhere you go. You feel stressed and start to become sick.
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Recently, you feel uneasy and something tells you that you were being watched. Every time you go to work, you feel eyes on you.
It scares you.
Nobody likes the feel of being watched.
It made you stressed out.
You tried to get rid of these feelings by distracting yourself with work. You tried to keep yourself busy to a point you overwork yourself with all those papers or taking care of the Smiling Critters.
To a point it made your body ache and have a migraine from overthinking.
Not only that, Catnap has been acting quite differently too and his visit has become less and less each day. Not only that—
The lovely and sweet cat is avoiding you!
You finally asked the feline, what's the matter but only received—
"It's nothing...."
Nothing....nothing? Obviously there's something wrong!
Multiple questions began to swarm into your brain like a raging tsunami, did you do something wrong? It must be you, right? Yes, no? Maybe?
You had a slight feeling it has something to do with the higher ups.....
Did they tell Catnap to...avoid you? It has to be it, right? Why they do such a thing?
The stress starts to eat you the more you think about it.
Dogday and the other smiling critters saw that you've been stressed lately to a point it started to affect your health. It made them worried, especially Dogday. As a leader, it was his responsibility to care for everyone's wellbeing, including you.
"Angel, You look nervous lately. Are you feeling alright?"
"Oh, hey. Dogday....."
Dogday knew something was wrong. He comes closer to you and touches your shoulder.
You slightly flinch under his touch which made the canine even more worried.
"Angel, please tell me. Is something bothering you?"
"......"
"As a leader, it's my duty to help everyone in need. I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you"
"....."
Dogday holds your hands gently and holds them in his large ones.
You take a deep breath before telling him what's been bothering you, you know it will be useless to ignore the canine. He is stubborn and won't stop until you tell him what's wrong.
"I feel like something bad is going to happen. I don't know when. It might happen now, Sooner? Tomorrow?"
"......"
"I really hate this feeling, Dogday.....I-I can't get rid of it and no matter how many times I tried to forget it by distracting myself with work, I just.....couldn't— Not only that, Catnap has been ignoring me and started to avoid me! I— ugh, m-my head"
You suddenly drop to your knees causing Dogday to panic and he begins to whine worriedly.
Dogday's heart clenched the way you spoke. You feel scared, anxious and nervous. The canine pulls you into an embrace, in hope that it will help you calm down.
"Let's get you to the infirmary..."
Dogday makes sure that the school doctor treats you and gives you medication.
"Mrs. (L/n), I think it would be better if you take a week off from work"
"A week?!"
"Angel, it's for your own good"
"But—"
"No buts, end of conversation!"
The doctor said sternly you were causing you to snap your mouth shut.
The doctor also recommended you to rest someplace quiet and away from the city and your workplace.
It seems you have to go to your foster parents house, they always welcome you with open arms if you need anything.
"Alright...I'll take the day off..."
But still....that gut wrenching feelings still resides in you....
For today, you need to rest in the infirmary room until you are discharged.
Dogday leaves you to rest before proceeding to make his way back to his stage but before that, he wants to find Catnap first.
Dogday knows that Catnap is great at hiding, but it won't stop him since he has his canine sense helping him.
He sniffs around to find the feline until he sees the cat, snoozing around his stage like he always does.
"Catnap. I need to speak to you..."
"...Speak"
"(Y/n) is sick, have you not noticed?"
"...I know..."
"Then why did you help her with your red smoke? To make her sleep and at ease?"
"....."
Catnap looks away from the dog, Catnap knew that you were sick. It hurts him to see you like that.
He wants to help and comfort you, he really does but...
He had received an order he has to obey. His had to choose between two individuals that he adores. One he worships and the other he loves. Yet, he chose the one he worships, the one that saves his life.
Catnap knew that Dogday will help you and he trusts the dog with you in his care.
Other than that, using the red smoke on you will make everything much worse and potentially kill you in your sleep.
He doesn't want that to happen to someone who cares for him and loves him.
"Why?"
"Red smoke use...on stress person...bad could hurt and... possibly.........kill..."
"O-oh..."
Dogday rubs his arm before turning away, but before he leaves.
"Please, pay her a visit, Catnap. If you do, it makes her less worried and she would be happy to see you again"
"Also, She won't come to work for a week...."
Dogday leaves Catnap's stage, leaving Catnap alone to think about his decision to see you.
A/N : Another chapter finished 😁 . Also, a fair warning for all of you. The future chapters will become darker as it progresses since I want to stick to the plot of the game.
Also, the mascots have their own stages to perform for the orphans!
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countcvnt · 3 months
Text
Experiment
Chapter One: Scrambled
[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]
Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3
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Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.
“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.
“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”
‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.
You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.
A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.
“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.
He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.
Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.
You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.
“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”
“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”
Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.
“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”
That stings. “Who?”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”
You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.
The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.
You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.
So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.
Anger.
Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.
A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”
He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.
“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.
You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.
You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.
“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”
Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.
“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”
You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.
“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”
“Yes, sir.”
The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.
“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.
“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”
You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.
“Why?” You point at it.
“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”
“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”
Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”
You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”
With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.
“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”
Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”
“No.” Price shakes his head.
“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”
“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”
“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.
“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”
“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”
“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”
They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”
“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.
“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”
“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”
“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.
Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.
“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.
Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”
As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.
“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.
“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.
Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.
Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.
“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”
Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.
“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”
“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.
So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?
“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”
“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”
“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”
You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”
The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-
Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.
The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”
“What?” Soap is the first to question you.
“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.
“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”
Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.
“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.
You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.
“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”
You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.
“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”
Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”
You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.
Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.
You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”
“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”
“She what…?” Soap tenses.
Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”
“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”
“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”
“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”
It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”
“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”
Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.
“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
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golden-cherry · 3 months
Text
deal - cl16 (24/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Furniture shopping is more exciting when there's talks about buying new stuff - like a bed.
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet
Word Count: 3.4k
series masterlist
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A/N: hello loves! part twenty-four is here and I hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!!!
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The fact that Kika is just lying on your bed instead of snuggling up completely in your fluffy blanket is a miracle. 
"I liked the light blue mom jeans best," she says as you stand in front of the large mirror leaning against the wall next to the door to your room and look at yourself. "With the white oversized turtleneck - smash."
You look at her through the mirror. "Haha."
"I'm serious." She leans on her elbows and tilts her head. "If you wear white sneakers with it, it'll even work with the sandwich method. I've seen it on TikTok. And I swear to you - people will turn their heads to look at you."
"I don't want people turning their heads at me," you confess quietly, adjusting the soft fabric of your top. "I just want to look halfway okay."
"Trust me. You look more than okay."
After Kika and Pierre have stormed your apartment with their spare key - which at first annoyed you, but in the next moment made you feel quite relieved - your girlfriend has taken it upon herself to unpack your suitcase and pick out an outfit for you that matches your trip to the furniture store.
Unpacking your suitcase simply consisted of pulling out one item at a time and tossing it aside if it didn't meet her expectations. The pile of clothes next to the bed is the result of her search.
" Let it go," she warns you as you adjust the position of the hem of the sweater on your shoulder. "You look good. When I think about my first outfit as Pierre's girlfriend - it was pure horror."
"But I'm not a girlfriend," you reply as you reach for the jeans Kika is holding out to you. "I'm his friend. His roommate. Nothing more," you exhale, "and nothing less."
The Portugese woman watches you slip into your pants. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Caught off guard, you look at her. Are your feelings for the Monegasque so obvious that she can even see it on your face? Is your affection written all over your forehead? You can't name your emotional state, you can't say a word that could even begin to describe what you feel for Charles - but there's no question that it's definitely something other than pure friendship. 
No matter how often and vehemently you try to convince yourself that Charles is your friend, you are an incredibly bad liar. 
"I remember being incredibly nervous the first time we went out in public. I think I changed outfits three or four times before I was halfway happy."
Oh.
You sit down on the edge of the bed with her. "I want all of this. I want him." You clear your throat as Kika gives you a meaningful look. "His friendship, that is. And I'm also willing to take the risk of people not liking me and talking badly about me." You clasp your hands in your lap.
Kika sits up straight. "But?"
You curl your lips into a thin line. "I - I don't know." How do you explain to her that you're worried that his fans could dislike you so much that they doubt Charles? You're going public as friends, something that bothers you a little more than it should. But the Monegasque has also said that people will think what they want. 
What if they hate you so much - your looks, your mediocrity, your being - that Charles catches on and he realizes they're right in their opinion?
"I just want to make a good impression."
Your friend reaches for your hand. "You will. And after all, you're just friends. The public's opinion isn't all that important." You don't see her look, which says so much more than what she actually says.
"Right."
Kika lets go of your hand and stands up from the bed. "I'll be with you the whole time. We'll work it out. I promise." She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "So, let's get going. This room is pretty bleak and could use some color," she says before pulling you off the bed and out of the room.
As you slip into your shoes at the front door, the men join you.
"So, Pierre and I are sitting -" Charles begins, but suddenly stops when he sees you. His eyes wander over your body and goose bumps spread along their path. He remains silent until Pierre nudges him. "Uhm, sorry. Yes. We - um - we're both going to sit in the front of the car because -" He scratches the back of his neck nervously, but can't take his eyes off you. "The plan is for Kika and you to go through the furniture store together and Pierre is coming with me. Just so that we are seen together as little as possible, but are still out and about together," he explains. 
You understand why this is all going to happen. He wants to protect you and you want to let him, but you can't stop your heart from getting a little bruised. 
When Kika notices your offended look, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "So much planning for simple shopping with friends? Is that really necessary?"
As you look up from your shoes, you look straight into Charles' beautiful green eyes. Something that looks exactly like how you feel flickers across his face. "It is." He stands up straight. "Shall we?"
Kika smiles gently at you. "Let's liven this place up a bit, then." She grabs Pierre's hand and together the two of them walk out of the apartment towards the elevator, while Charles and you stay behind. You both look after them. 
"Is everything all right?" asks the Monegasque and stands next to you. 
"Everything's fine," you answer him curtly. You don't dare look at him. 
"Y/N," he says as he gently grasps your wrist and turns you towards him. "Mon amour, you know why I'm doing this, don't you?" His hand slips a little lower so your fingers can intertwine.
"'Mh-hmm." 
"Hey." His other hand rests gently against your cheek, making you look at him. "Hey." His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. "I'm trying to protect you. That's my priority. Making sure you're okay is my priority. And if that means we can't walk through any stores next to each other for now, just so the public can get used to you, then I'll put up with it." His gaze twitches briefly to your mouth. "Even if it's not what I want."
You nuzzle your face against his warm hand. "And what do you want?" you ask softly. 
"You." 
His answer makes the blood sizzle in your veins. It feels as if the warmth of his skin is burning through your face, as if the nerve endings under your skin are sending little electric shocks through your muscles and forcing your heart to stop. You take a deep breath.
"I want you near me." He squeezes your hand twice before pulling away. Your skin feels cooler without his touch. "But I'm responsible for what happens in public. And I don't want to risk anything happening to you because of me."
You nod weakly before wordlessly following the befriended couple. You hear Charles behind you, but you don't wait for him as you walk quickly to the others. The atmosphere in the elevator is tense as you are transported towards the underground garage, but no one tries to ease the tension. Kika and Pierre look at each other a little uncertainly, something that doesn't escape your gaze, and you can't blame them. The situation is just awful.
Pierre has thought far ahead, because when he presses a button on his car key, a large SUV opens up in the underground parking garage, sure to fit some decorative items. Charles' Ferrari, or God forbid your old Renault, might have been able to fit a picture frame, or at most a small mirror. 
You sit behind Charles, who has taken a seat in the passenger seat. Kika and Pierre are talking through the rear-view mirror while you look out of the window.
The longer you think about what Charles said - or didn't say - the more uncomfortable you feel. The hem of the sweater seems to have slipped, the collar feels too tight and the sleeves are scratching your elbows. You're not sure what you were hoping for, what the right answer would have been. But you're not particularly happy with the one you got. 
You also want to be close to him, permanently. And you can also understand why the plan involves you staying away from each other inside the furniture store. But is that really necessary if you're just friends? Has he done something similar with his other female friends, or are you the only one who has to put up with this fuss? 
Your thoughts are going round and round in your head, but as if by magic they suddenly come to a standstill. But it's not magic, it's Charles' hand that has squeezed past his seat on the right and is now gripping your leg. You feel his fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, where they rest against your calf. 
You try to regulate your breathing, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears. Charles touching you is nothing new. You've been touching each other non-stop since last night, which doesn't help your feelings or your friendship, but it still feels indescribably good. 
It feels right the way his calloused hand wraps around your soft calf. It felt right the way his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt right to lie half-naked next to him in bed. 
It felt right to want him as something more. More than a roommate. More than a friend. 
And that's exactly why you slide your foot towards the car door, so that Charles can touch you more easily. You block out the voice that keeps whispering hypocrite to you as best you can. And the warmer his skin feels on yours, the tighter his fingers close around your calf, the better it works. 
"I'll let you both out right at the entrance and we'll park in the back of the parking lot," Pierre interrupts your thoughts before they're no longer PG. "You can go inside and we'll follow. That's the easiest way."
"Thank you very much," Charles says. "I'm sorry we're shamelessly taking advantage of you."
Pierre has to grin. "You're welcome to give me a position in Bahrain, then we'd be even."
"You'd have to get close to me on the track first."
The two men argue amicably until the car comes to a halt in front of the deserted entrance. Just as you are about to open the door, Charles's fingers gently squeeze your leg twice and you have to suppress a smile, otherwise Kika would tease you endlessly. As you both get out and the car drives away, she latches on to you. 
"Are you ready?" she asks as you walk towards the glass door together. 
"Definitely."
Kika has very good taste in decorating and if she hadn't become a model, she could definitely have worked at Ikea putting together those fake rooms. As you push a shopping cart in front of you, she skips through the aisles, grabbing anything that matches in color or style. Picture frames, vases, mirrors and fake plants that would look good on the windowsill in your room. 
She's examining which of the candles in front of her would go better with the vases in the shopping cart when your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. 
Charles: If one of the candles burns down our apartment, I'll have to charge you rent. 
Confused, you read the message before looking up and around. Charles is standing about twenty meters away from you, smiling at you over the shelves. You bite the inside of your cheek.
You: You don't need my money, Mr. Ferrari. After all, you make millions a year. 
You raise an eyebrow challengingly as Charles reads your message. You can see his grin clearly, even from this distance. 
Charles: If you burn down my expensive apartment, I'll have to find a new one, and they're not exactly cheap in Monaco, as you know. 
You: I thought it was our apartment?
Charles: If you let it burn down, you're welcome to keep it.
You: So you'd let me keep it? Our apartment?
Charles: I'd give you anything, mon amour. You just have to ask for it. 
You don't have time to think about his answer because Kika throws a stuffed animal dinosaur in your face. 
"Are you done flirting?" she asks, playing annoyed. "I'm trying to decorate your room and you'd rather flirt than help me."
You feel the blood rush to your face. "Excuse me?"
Her grin almost reaches your ears. "Gotcha."
"You can't possibly have caught me doing something I wasn't doing," you try to wriggle out of it, but Kika has bitten down like a little terrier.
"And why are you looking like you've eaten the last spoonful of tiramisu without asking if anyone else wants the rest?" 
"I haven't eaten any tiramisu," you defend yourself and hug the green stuffed animal tightly to your chest. 
"Not yet," she says gently and puts one of the candles in the cart with the rest. "But I'm afraid you could get diabetic if you're not careful with the tiramisu. A small piece is fine, but a double portion could almost be too much." 
You narrow your eyes. "I haven't eaten any tiramisu." Without taking your eyes off her, you put the green dino in the shopping cart too. "And I don't intend to."
"You're a bad liar," she says and stands next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "But that's all right. I still love you. And when your room looks really cool soon, I'll take the outfit pictures for my Instagram in front of your mirror."
She gives you a peck on the cheek and you roll your eyes. "Charles was right. We need to change the locks, then you can't disturb us anymore."
"Disturb? Disturbing what? Eating tiramisu?" she grins and you would have loved to suffocate her with the green dino. Apparently Kika can read minds, because she quickly lets go of your arms and continues to skip happily through the corridors while you follow her with the shopping cart. 
"How much do you think the things you picked out for me cost?" you ask her as she picks out more plants.
She takes a look at the shopping cart. "Something between two hundred and five hundred euros," she replies with a shrug.
"Kika, that's too much. Way too much," you try to stop her as she walks over to the rugs on display. "I can't pay for it. I'm unemployed, remember?" You're about to turn the shopping cart around and return the selected items to their rightful places, but Kika stands in your way. 
"Charles offered to pay for this," she says, confused, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the metal grille of the cart. 
"He what?" you ask, looking around in the hope of spotting Charles somewhere. But he's nowhere to be seen.
"Pierre sent me a text message to leave the car at the checkouts when we're done. He said that Charles wanted to pay for it and that we should wait outside for them," she explains, tilting her head. "I thought he would have told you. I know you're unemployed, but because of the text message, I thought that - I assumed we could just pick out nice items without looking at the price."
You run your tongue over your teeth. "Give me a moment, please," you say briefly and leave her standing there with the shopping cart. 
You walk through every aisle, looking over every shelf in the hope of seeing Charles standing somewhere. And when, after ten minutes, you spot his brown curls in the furthest corner of the store, you don't care if the two of you are seen together. He's standing in front of a gray, hip-high box spring, with nice, dark bedding and comfortable-looking pillows placed on it. When you stop next to him, he doesn't look at you.
"I want to buy a new bed," he begins the conversation. "The one I have now is too low for me. What do you think of this one? I've tried it out. It's really comfortable and the perfect height for -" He falls silent before he can finish the sentence. 
"Kika says you want to pay for my things," you change the subject without answering his question. You don't take your eyes off the bed either. 
"That's correct."
"I don't want that," you say tersely. "I don't want you to pay for it."
"But I want to," he replies, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Think of it as a gift."
"As a gift?" You raise an eyebrow. "As a gift for what?"
"For your friendship."
"You can have my friendship without buying me new things," you assure him, but you fall on deaf ears. 
"But I want to. I have so much money that I can't spend on my own, so I want to buy you nice things." He leans a little towards you so that your hands touch. "How expensive are the things? One thousand, two thousand euros?"
"Kika says five hundred at most."
"Then think of it as a small, early Christmas present," he says gently. Before you can object, he continues. "I want you to feel comfortable and if it costs me some money, then so be it. And it won't hurt my bank account in the slightest. So just say thank you and accept the gift."
"Thank you," you whisper reluctantly, but you know that it wouldn't do any good to go against his wishes. "Did you find something you want to buy?"
He smiles. "This bed, apparently. And bedding. And a mirror."
"Doesn't sound bad. I just hope you have as good a taste as Kika. After all, our things have to match," you joke.
Charles turns his head in your direction. "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it before I spend thousands of euros on it." As he says it and his fingers curl around your wrist, that feeling blossoms in your chest again.
You want to throw him on the bed in front of you, kiss him until you can't breathe and touch him until you can see stars. You want to feel his warm skin under your fingertips, feel his muscles tense as he pulls you on top of him and presses you against his firm body. You want to feel his weight on you as he lays you down on the bed and his lips trail down from your mouth. You want to - 
"Do you really think I'm going to try sleeping without you again when we've figured out that we both sleep better when we're together?" he asks, gently stroking the thin skin on your wrist with his thumb. You hope he can't feel your racing pulse underneath. "When we first met, you said that you hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. And if it means I have to hold you in my arms so you can get a good night's sleep, then so be it. And it's not as if I don't enjoy having you close to me."
Before you can answer him, you feel a person standing at your other side and when you look, Kika is standing there. Her gaze flickers briefly to your hands before she turns to the bed as well. "Do any of you fancy a bite to eat?" she asks. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves incredibly good tiramisu. And it's never busy. We can go there if you like." She turns slightly in your direction and nudges you. "What about you? Do you want some tiramisu?"
More like a need than a want.
1K notes · View notes
chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months
Text
Pinkie Promise? (Astarion x F! reader) MDNI 18+
Author note- this is specifically for @spitfireunhinged who wrote a beautiful little post with a concept that I adored. I hope I did it justice and you enjoy!
CW- NSFW, mentions of SA
Synopsis- You tell Astarion that you don’t think sex is as good as people say it is. Astarion is determined to prove you wrong.
*not my pic. Please let me know if it is yours so I can give credit
I rewrote this like 7 times. This draft is lightly edited, but I couldn’t wait to post it!
Part 2: I Triple Dog Dare You
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Astarion had heard the phrase “pinky promise” before. It was usually between Leon and Victoria before Leon left for a hunt. She always made Leon pinkie promise that he would come home and Leon always swore it- his pinkie hooked with hers.
The whole thing made Astarion vomit, but he thought it was just a “them” thing since he had never heard it before.
Then you used it on him and he had hurt your feelings terribly. He had called you a child and then proceeded to mock you.
You had just smiled at him sweetly like you usually do, apologized for invading his space, and for crossing his boundaries.
When Astarion had come by an hour or two later to drop off a book he ‘borrowed’ (it was his book, but he wanted an excuse to talk to you again), he heard you sniffling and asking Karlach if you were a child. You were so upset by his judgment because you like him as a person and thought the two of you were friends. Karlach said that some people just aren’t capable of being nice.
Astarion found you after Karlach went to sleep and pinkie promised to never call you a child again (and that he doesn’t think you are a child).
Suddenly, it was your thing and it slowly became more enduring as time went on. A part of him was envious if Karlach or Gale offered you the gesture first and you would give them one of your breathtaking smiles. He wishes he could initiate it, but it feels far too intimate to him. Asking someone to promise him something? Perish the thought! No one can truly be trusted. Well- maybe you can be trusted.
Astarion doesn’t know when he became so infatuated with you and your existence. Maybe it was that first night at camp when the two of you got to know each other a little bit better. You hadn’t been able to sleep because you were struggling to adjust to the new environment. You asked him lots of questions that he honestly had struggled to answer, but you were actually interested in him- not just his body.
Astarion was beginning to crave your presence and he despised sharing it with anyone else. One time he even went as far as making you pinkie promise you wouldn’t kiss Gale when he had called you over. You had scoffed and said that is ridiculous because “Gale would not kiss you ever, yuck!” , but did it anyway.
Low and behold- Gale did not get his kiss. He’s tried since, but you have rejected his advances. Astarion likes to think it’s because you like him more- want him more.
So maybe that’s why he was quick to drag you away from the Tiefling party after you had made your rounds- not wanting to watch you be with another person a second longer. You let him take your hand and you giggle as he chastises you for taking so long to talk to everyone else.
“How dare my self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ spend so much time not in my presence!” Astarion melodramatically states, “I am hurt, Darling. I thought we had something special.”
You blow air out of your mouth with an eye roll and smile at him.
“Well of course we do,” you say matter of factly, “but I also knew the minute I went to talk to you that I wouldn’t talk to anyone else.
“I’m the fearless leader!” You say with emphasis, “Leader of the Freakshow- welcome one and all to the most traumatized individuals alive!”
Astarion’s chest bursts with laughter, “how very on the nose of you, my Dear.”
“I must keep all of us humble, my Sweet,” you say boldly.
He tsks at you and twirls you around, “I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to steal my lines- that is going to cost you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Certainly.”
“Name your price.”
Astarion pauses- right now doesn’t feel like the moment to go full throttle. He has more work to do.
“I need time to think,” he says lewdly, “there are so many things I could ask for, after all.”
You hum in agreement and smile at him coyly.
Maybe it’s because you are the first person he has actively sought out since he has been released from Cazador’s grasp.
Astarion guides you to a spot in the meadow he had found earlier. Well- actually he had followed Gale to it earlier- Astarion just found an even better spot like 10 yards away.
Gale had stupidly announced to Wyll around the campfire that he was going to ask to spend time with you alone tonight.
There was immediately not a chance in hells that that was going to happen. Gale found a nice spot in the forest- Astarion found a better one. Gale brought a blanket and wine? Pfft, Astarion can do that.
You stop in front of the blanket and wine before you look at him- a nice blush running up your neck.
“Is this for-?” You seem surprised.
Which Astarion finds very interesting considering you are from Noble society- shouldn’t you be used to being courted? Astarion is almost certain you’d have at least a hundred suitors.
“For you?” He smiles charmingly, “well of course, only the best for you, my Dear.”
You duck your head and you blush even harder. Astarion guides you to sit with him. You both drink the wine and talk. You ask him questions about himself and he asks plenty about you.
Astarion isn’t sure when the conversation turns into talking about sex- that had always been the original intention of the conversation.
“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”
“Pardon?”
You shrug your shoulders and slightly slur the sentence again with emphasis.
“Sex can’t possibly be all that great.”
Astarion is shocked to his core. You flirt back and forth with him as if you’ve bedded at least a couple men.
“You’ve never?”
“No.”
“How?”
You look at him with a puzzled expression. You are staring at him as if he’s grown a second head.
Hypocrite. You’re the one spewing none sense!
“How?” You state incredulously, “you have looked at me right?”
Oh yes and I’ve imagined fucking you until you are screaming my name, but that’s beside the point I suppose.
“I’m nothing much to look at. I’m always the friend- never the girlfriend or the lover or whatever!” You emphasize with your hands, “no one has ever felt that way about me and if they have- they’ve never gone for it so I assume it’s just not that much fun.”
Astarion feels like he’s dying all over again. That was your assumption? Not that you might be horrifically oblivious because he’s only tried to to get in your chance several times. One time he quite literally asked you to come to his bed that night and you showed up with a book.
“Darling,” Astarion’s exasperation obvious, “I’ve been trying to have sex with you for a couple weeks now. Probably even more than that at this point.”
You stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
“You,” you stammer, “you want to? With me? No way.”
You laugh nervously, “you are beautiful and intelligent and-“
“No, no way.”
Astarion raises an eyebrow at you and smiles seductively. Your lips part slightly as he pushes you on your back and parts your legs with his knee.
Your arms automatically wrap around his neck- your pupils blown wide with lust. Astarion kisses to the left and right of your lips- grinning when he hears your huff in frustration.
“You sure do keen a lot for someone who doesn’t think sex could possibly be ‘that good’, Darling,” Astarion coos, you tighten your lips in embarrassment.
Astarion rolls his eyes at you and cups your face while putting his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You hum with pleasure and peer at him through hooded eye lids. Astarion feels his cock strain against his pants
“So, my Dear,” Astarion drawls, “do you want me to fuck you? Would you like to see all the bliss you are missing out on?”
You nod eagerly and Astarion presses his thigh against your growing heat. You whine around his thumb and you run your tongue against his skin.
Fuck.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He asks hotly.
You nod- Astarion can smell your arousal and feel it seeping through both of your pants.
“Pinkie promise?” He says teasingly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to hold out his pinkie.
You hook your pinkie with his and whisper, “pinkie promise.”
Astarion pulls you in for a mind numbing kiss- caressing your lips with his until you are keeping up with his pace. He feels your arms around his neck pull him in deeper.
Your kiss against his lips is sweet and intoxicating- for a second he completely forgets about the purpose of the evening. Astarion could sit here and just kiss you like this until the sun comes up.
Your breathing hitches and Astarion watches as you desperately try to find release by riding his thigh- your movements erratic and wanting. The sounds you are making fill him with excitement and for the first time in a while- he’s actually eager to be inside someone.
He realizes your moaning has become muffled all of a sudden and he looks up to find you covering your mouth- your cheeks and ears are bright red while you pant with arousal.
Astarion laces his fingers through yours and holds your hands down on either side of your head- your pupils are blown wide from lust. The galloping of your heart is like music to his ears.
“Oh no,” he whispers seductively, “do not keep those delicious moans of yours from me, Darling. You promised to be good, remember?”
“Y-yes,” you say between heavy breaths- this time you are the one to surprise him by closing the space between the two of you with a needy kiss.
Astarion unlaces his fingers from yours as he begins unlacing your trousers- quickly discarding them to reveal your soaked underclothes. He growls involuntarily as the smell of your arousal hits the back of his throat- you smell incredible.
Astarion could leave it at just taking your pants off for now, but Gods does he want to see more and if you are willing to let him, then he is not going to deny himself the pleasure of being able to touch and kiss every inch of your body.
Your shirt is next and you don’t even fight it- helping him get the article of clothing off and helping him discard his shirt as well. Astarion stops and looks down upon your naked form.
“Gods you are exquisite,” Astarion says as he begins to kiss down your naval, “open your legs for me, Darling.”
He leaves tiny love bites as he goes- wanting to make sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to. You are a whimpering mess underneath his touch as he presses his fingers to your clothed clit- teasing you slowly.
“Asta-“
You are cut off by your own sounds of pleasure leaving your throat as he slips your underwear off- slowly pushing one finger into you while playing with your clit using his tongue. A string of curse words leaves your mouth as he begins to pick up the pace with his fingers and basks in the way pleasure looks on your face, how your body is writhing for him, and the tumbling praises for him echo through the clearing.
He rolls your sensitive nub between his teeth and he has to hold your hips down as you keen underneath his touch. Astarion adds a second finger- still meeting some resistance, but you aren’t stopping him, in fact- you are giving him complete access using your tadpole right now (intentionally or not) and he can feel how desperate you are to feel fuller. Then he adds the second fingers and the euphoria that rings through your body goes straight to his groan. Astarion can feel his cock straining against his pants as he brings you over the edge with his fingers and mouth- your sweet pleasure dripping down his chin and his fingers. He languidly cleans his fingers off with his mouth, humming in delight while making eye contact with you.
Your eyes are half lidded and glassy- your mouth is slightly parted open. He leans forward and leaves a chaste kiss on them and begins unlacing his own pants- slipping them off and throwing them to the side- his underwear quickly following.
Astarion lines himself up with your entrance- your orgasm coating the head of his cock and he has to fight the urge to slam into you right away. He lines himself up with your entrance- teasing you. You look more nervous now than lustful and Astarion feels his gaze soften. He hovers over you and caresses the side of your face with his thumb. The last thing he wants is to start with you in the wrong headspace.
"Wrap your legs around my waist."
You obediently comply- your back slightly arching and your pert nipples are touching his chest. You sigh in arousal at the contact.
“This may hurt a little,” he says, “we can stop whenever or however much you need- we can stop completely and try again another time even.
“But do you want me to continue?”
You smile up at him with relief and nod coyly.
“I trust you, but please go slow,” you whisper.
Astarion feels a tightness in his chest when you look up at him. Your eyes are so vulnerable and of all the people you’ve decided to trust you chose him. Astarion is fighting not to dissociate- wanting to give you his full attention.
Astarion slowly begins to push inside you. You cry out and clutch at his shoulders- taking a sharp breath as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. Astarion has to fight the want- no need to go faster- you are so damn tight and Astarion is almost wondering if he should have done more foreplay.
He rocks in and out of you- making sure to check on your facial expressions. There are tears pricking your eyes, but your look of discomfort is becoming more and more euphoric as he keeps rolling his hips into you gently.
“Hells darling,” Astarion manages to moan out through clenched teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”
You whimper at his praise and Astarion lifts you up by the hips so he can get a better angle. He thrusts a minuscule harder this time and the whimper that leaves your mouth is making him feel positively feral.
“Astarion,” you whine, “ple- please I need more.”
You definitely don’t have to tell him twice. Astarion snaps himself up into you at a faster pass- your keening only encouraging him to go faster- both of you moaning and gasping while clawing at each other. For the first time in the last 200 years- Astarion does not want to stop. Despite the feelings that are always there, this may be the only time he’s actually experienced bliss while being with someone.
"Such a good little pup, aren't you?"
You clench around him at his words, you beg him to fuck you harder, and he drops your hips back to the ground before putting his face into the crook of your neck- kissing and praising you as you ride out your high.
“You were such a good girl for me,” he breathes into your air, “thank you.”
Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging his lips to yours. If he needed air, the kiss would have suffocated him from how intense and wanting it was- the air between the both of you feels alive and Astarion barely registers that he’s finishing inside you until he’s collapsed on top of you- his head resting on your chest as it races in time with your breathing.
“That was amazing,” you say breathlessly and Astarion can’t help but laugh.
“I told you so.”
You plafully slap his arm and laugh- the sound filling his body with comfort. He can hear your heart beat begin to slow down and your breathing becomes deeper.
“Thank you Astarion,” you say sleepily, dozing off with your hands teasing his curls, “not just for this- for everything. I feel worth something when I’m with you.”
You yawn and Astarion tries to focus on the sound instead of the twisting guilt in his stomach. He cares for you too and that might be where he fucked up.
Your breathing quickly evens out and he is drowning in the smell of sex and rose water- a scent he heavily associates with you. Astarion stays there with his head on top of your chest- trying to get his bearings together. That was like no other sexual encounter he has experienced before- it was blissful- so why the hell is he about to have the melt down of the century?
“Shit,” you jolt awake, accidentally pushing Astarion off you- your eyes are still glassy “sorry I should probably not just fall asleep here- I’m sure you want to get back to your tent…”
Astarion pulls you back down and against his chest as if it’s exactly where you belong. The idea of you leaving right now makes his soul twist painfully. No, he needs you to stay. Existing is easier with you around- it has been since he met you on the beach.
“Stay,” he whispers, “please.”
There is a pause and he worries he may have overstepped his bounds. You look up at him with sleepy, kind eyes. If peace were to have a face- it would be yours.
“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” You smile at him sweetly.
The word leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, “pinkie promise?”
You give him the biggest, toothiest grin he has ever seen. Astarion is certain you may be the single most beautiful person he’s ever met.
You take his pinky in yours and then place a soft kiss against his cold lips.
As you pull away, you whisper against his mouth, “I pinky promise.”
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mockerycrow · 10 months
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Frozen Fingertips [2/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)
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ghost masterlist - part one
Summary: Ghost struggles to keep you alive through these harsh times.
A/N: I’m so glad you guys enjoyed part one!! i did not shrink the font of this one because i realized that it may strain some peoples’ eyes. this is not as angsty as i wished it to be, and it isn’t as long as i hoped. i apologize. tbh i don’t like this, but i hope y’all enjoy
[WARNINGS: Descriptions of developing hypothermia and frost bite, delirium, near-death experience(s), angst to fluff.]
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THE BLIZZARD WAS not stopping and it didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon, which honestly terrifies Ghost because of your awful condition. Despite his previous efforts, you quickly slipped back into a delirious state of developing hypothermia—a state you weren’t completely aware of, but you knew something was wrong. You could vaguely acknowledge the way that you were fading in and out wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. What you hated was the painful tingling and the weird.. harsh cold entering your lungs every time you took a deep breath. You’re so warm, yet your lungs burn cold.
You only saw times in glimpses—what you thought was likely a matter of hours, expanded across a matter of a few days. The harsh blizzard was unwavering, it’s snow falling from the sky harshly messing with the radio signals. Ghost would sit by the window with his personal radio on his vest, along with the emergency signal radio he had stowed in his pack. He would get small glimpses of other peoples voices—Price’s would come through occasionally, luckily long enough for Ghost to update him about their situation and their whereabouts, your condition; but Ghost was never able to provide an update about an exact location. The windows were frosted over and even when they weren’t, all Ghost saw was endless snow and pine trees far as the eye can see, until they eventually faded from view due to the snow coverage. Every time Ghost suddenly becomes aware of his breath, he can’t help but glance over at you; wrapped up in two sleeping bags, sitting way too close to the fireplace—sometimes shuddering, and sometimes.. not moving at all. His heart drops to his stomach when he doesn’t see your breath in the air. He calls your name loudly, firm and demanding and when you don’t answer, he scrambles from his position by the window. “Fuck,” He utters. “Fuck!”
Ghost ignores the pain in his knees when they harshly bash against the ground as he kneels next to you. He grabs your face by your cheeks, startled by the hue of blue on your lips. “Bloody bell—wake up!” Ghost snarls, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He holds his breath until he sees your chest slowly yet shakily rise—and then you exhale very slowly, and clearly with amounts of trouble. Relief floods Ghost’s veins, but it’s quickly replaced by frustration and panic. You gasp quietly before you begin to shiver uncontrollably again, and taking Ghost completely by surprise; you open your eyes. Your eyes are glazed over, your eyelids puffy. “[Name]?” Ghost questions, his eyes staring hard into yours, silently noting your dialed pupils. “[Name], can you hear me?” If you do, you don’t make coherent indication. Your tongue darts out and wets your lips before you croak out, “I gotta pee.” Ghost huffs and shakes his head, his hand shooting up and laying on your chest—which is covered by many thicker layers, so disregarding Ghost’s hand, it’s not very likely you could’ve gotten up without help, anyway. “You went an hour ago, yeah? You need to stay layin’ down.” You groan and despite your arms being tucked into your multiple covers, something moves against the fabric as if to swat Ghost’s hand away. Ghost can’t help but swallow nervously; he isn’t stupid, he’s aware you’re in one of the stages of hypothermia, he told Price as much. He’s been able to keep the frostbite at bay, but he’s running out of firewood. It’s snowing way too damn hard for him to even pick up stray logs and sticks laying around. Your slowed heartrate, increased urge to urinate, slow cognitive functions, slurred speech, cold skin—blue lips..
It’s not looking good and Ghost doesn’t want to think about that, but that’s all he can see of you right now, so how could he not? And it’s hard both mentally and physically to stay in this cabin, seeing you deteriorate while he himself is getting absolutely fucking freezing. Ghost has had to shed a layer or two just to keep you alive. He can’t deny the way the cold air is scratching at his skin, seeping through his balaclava and into his jaw, nearly making his bones hurt. Ghost clenches his teeth as he shudders for a moment, eyes fluttering closed just long enough to gain his composure. Fuck. Ghost doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want you to die here, not like this. Not in a run-down abandoned cabin with shitty insulation, where frostbite is nipping at your fingers and where the cold is finally getting to Ghost’s head. He grits his teeth and sits back on his ass normally with a gloved hand to his head, his vision absolutely swimming. “Stop it,” He grunts quietly. “Hafta stay up.” Ghost takes a deep breath and grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, his boots booming against the wooden floor as he walks over to the area where the firewood is kept. He grabs a few of the pre-cut logs and he makes his way over to you and the fireplace, tossing the logs into the ashes, slowly refueling the dying embers. Ghost sniffles a little under his mask as he grabs a piece of paper and takes out a lighter, lighting it on fire before quickly tossing it into the fireplace to make a better fuel source. He crouches near the growing fire, taking his spot by your feet. Ghost sucks in a shuddering breath and rubs his upper arms, and he can’t help but take another glance at you. You stopped trying to get out of your warm enclosure of blankets, but your eyes were darting around the room slowly, unfocused and hazy.
Ghost’s chest clenches for a moment and he walks back over to your shivering form, and he already did it, but he presses his fingers against your lukewarm skin—nearly cold. Your eyes flutter again and then they vaguely glance in the direction that you think he’s in; which you’re almost right, but a few inches off. You try to speak but a quiet choked noise leaves you, your breathing shaky—finally from fear this time. Ghost puts his finger to his mask in a shushing motion, trying his best to keep you calm. “You’ll be alright, yeah? Gotta wait until the storm’s done brewing out there.” He attempts to reassure your delirious brain, but you can only make another “out of it” noise before your eyes flutter shut once again, you losing consciousness. Ghost feels an ugly and dreadful feeling deep in his gut, scratching at his veins, climbing them until his fingertips are cold both due to the temperature and panic. Ghost has always insisted he doesn’t panic, and he hasn’t—until now. Not until he fears the storm won’t pass over and help won’t arrive until you’re frozen and stiff under your fear, despite his desperate attempts to keep you warm—and alive. Ghost doesn’t want to admit it, but fuck, he’s terrified to fall asleep because out of the two of you, what if he’s the only one who wakes up?
Ghost’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he inhales in a sharp manner and his spine straightens up, his hands clenching together for a moment. “M’not going to fall asleep.” He mutters to himself as he takes his place next to you on the floor and holy hell, the floor is cold—so he silently scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your body, and Ghost uses his other arm as a pillow. Your chest very slowly rises and falls, and he finds comfort in the sight of a sign of you being alive—you’re still here with him, and that’s all he needs.
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Ghost is awoken from a banging on the cabin door. He jolts ever so slightly, but he’s immediately hit with chills, his limbs trembling. Fuck, he fell asleep. His eyelids feel like sandbags and and he can’t stop fucking shaking—and he feels so heavy.. so tired. “Ghost!” A familiar voice yells outside of the cabin. His arm wraps around your form tighter when he doesn’t immediately recognize the British accent behind the door, he grunts as he clumsily sits up and pulls you closer, his trembling hand grasping as his hip, taking out his service pistol. The door opens as he attempts to aim it, his weak and low voice hissing out, “I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out—“
“Ghost, it’s Price. We found you. Put the gun down.”
Ghost blinks slowly as he looks at the figure who slowly approaches, two others trailing behind—and it is Price—with Gaz and Soap. Ghost sharply inhaled and his arm lowers, the pistol slipping out of his grip. Gaz rushes over to him and your limp form, taking off his gloves. “We got you, Ghost. We got you.” Price assures, but his lips are pressed together as he watches Gaz. Ghost’s head rolls back for a moment, blacking out for a few seconds—Soap’s hands catching his head before it hits the floor. “They’re alive,” Gaz grunts out, leaning down to pick you up bridal style while keeping all of the layers around your body. “Barely, but we gotta get ‘em both to warmth. Now.”
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When Ghost finally comes to, the first thing he notices is the smell—it doesn’t smell like rotting and burning wood; his lungs don’t burn with every breath and he can keep his fingers. The second thing he notices is the ache within his throat and his limbs, and the third thing he notices is that he is not wearing his mask. He still feels heavy, but it’s not the kind of heavy where you want to sleep forever heavy. It’s a.. comforting heavy. Someone laying on top of him heavy. It takes him a hot second to open his eyes, and another second to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room—oh, wait, they’re not that bad, his head just hurts. Ghost notices someone laying their head on the bed on top of Ghost, their arms under their head as a cushion. He blinks blearily as he doesn’t register it at first; the hospital gown, two IV drips for two separate patients, and the bandages covering your fingers—it’s you. His eyes widen and he lets out a quiet noise, causing you to lift your head up immediately and look at him with the most vulnerable look you could ever have, your eyes wide and bulging like when a child doesn’t know whether to believe the adult in front of them. “Ghost?” You ask, and fuck, your throat croaks. Your vocal cords sound like they’ve been torn apart and reattached, croaking with relief and pain. He swallows thickly and he nods for a moment, unable to find his voice. Your eyes soften for a moment before you whisper to him. “Hurts to talk, huh? Me too.”
Then don’t, said his silent gaze. Yet, somehow, you manage to catch on his memo. Wordlessly, you reach up to one of his hands—covered in scars and calluses, but you don’t mind. Your hands are similar as you nervously glance at him, grabbing his wrist and turning it over so his palm faces up. Ghost eyes your movements, but makes no move to stop you. You take one of your pointer fingers—the one that isn’t bandaged—and you trace letters into his hand slowly.
T H A N K Y O U
Ghost meets your gaze, and you have tears in your eyes. His hand is grossly limp as he grabs the hand you were moving away, and he instead pulls your hand closer to his face for a closer inspection. The bandages concern him, so he looks at you again. You reach for the clipboard you left by his feet and you place it in his lap, pointing to the part of the medical report about your frostbite blisters. Ghost inhales deeply for a moment before his fingers tap against your hand—rhythmically? Oh, it’s morse code.
Ghost is tapping SAFE over and over while looking at you, to reassure himself—and you. You nod in response and offer him the smile he’s been waiting to see and you tap back to him, SAFE.
3K notes · View notes
anashins · 5 months
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Five Times a Day
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Pairing: Jaehyun x You
Genre: angst, romance, smut
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: After Jaehyun's ex drops the fact that they have once done it five times a day, you are eager to keep this record up.
A/N: Retroactive jealousy is real and this is me processing this problem. Maybe some of you can relate - remember: We're in this together and are stronger than our insecurities!
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You sipped on your smoothie, barely listening to your friends who were excitedly talking across each other. Under usual circumstances, you would have been able to enjoy this gathering among you girls, but today… not at all. 
In fact, you were in a sulk. And it was all because of a guest from a past you had deemed forgotten already.
“By the way…” Said guest suddenly turned to you with a feigned, overly sweet smile. “How is Jaehyun?”
You rolled your eyes, refusing to look into the face of the girl who had just asked you this question. You had known she would eventually come up with this topic. After all, your boyfriend, Jaehyun, was her ex boyfriend. Justifiably his ex, though!
She had gone behind his back and cheated on him with his friend. It had been you who had mended his broken heart with no ulterior motives in the beginning, but after that cruel woman had moved away, it had evolved into something that the both of you had underestimated.
You had given him time, treated him with nothing other than patience and understanding, until one day, he had been able to move on with you who had no intention of hurting him in the same manner ever again.
“He’s perfectly fine, we’re so happy,” was your equally overly sweet reply.
Your best friend’s nudge into your side with her elbow pulled you out of your sulking attitude as she was silently begging you to get a grip of yourself. You just shrugged, reminding her that you had only tagged along because you were nosy and wanted to boast, and that you had no intention of being friendly. You just couldn’t have missed this opportunity to see how she was doing, no matter how much you resented her.
Jaehyun’s ex had been in your friend group back then and was now in the city for a few days, so everyone had accepted her invitation to meet up to reminisce about the old times - including you and your big ego. You slowly regretted it, even though you had only come to brag to her how much happier he was with you. It was just so exhausting to be fake-friendly.
But to prove to your best friend that you were ready to compromise, you added sharply with triumph in your voice, “We live together now.”
“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” the ex’s voice echoed through the café as she clapped into her hands. “I also have a new boyfriend with whom I live with!”
The other girls congratulated her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so as well. All you could think of was whether that guy was also a poor soul she would soon destroy. That was until she mentioned something else that only you could probably hear.
“Now that we live together, we do it like five times a day.” She chuckled, lowered her voice and leaned in to you. “Jaehyun has been able to do just as much. Say, does he still live up to it? You must for sure know.”
You resented her so much.
____
First
You woke up way before Jaehyun when the sun shone right into your face as you had forgotten to pull the curtains together the night before.
It was almost 7 in the morning, and soon, your alarm would go off so that you would only see each other again later that evening when you came back home from work. You were determined to beat the clock before that would happen.
With much caution, you lifted the blanket and crawled under the duvet to Jaehyun’s side of the bed. He only groaned when you accidentally leaned on his shin, but you were still able to settle on his legs under the blanket without waking him up fully. 
You reached out your hand and stroked the small mound under his pajama bottoms. It didn’t take long for that mound to turn into a firm bulge and for Jaehyun to react to your stroking with his thighs moving against your palm.
You didn't know whether he was awake yet or not from under the covers, but you liked the thought of this exact uncertainty. To push this act further, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his bottoms and dragged the fabric downwards to the point where you could get a hold of his member and pull it out entirely.
Your fingers wrapped around Jaehyun’s length and you started moving them along his shaft until it stood nearly parallelly to his stomach. Sitting yourself up to be able to tug your own panties down, you shuffled forwards and guided his tip to your entrance.
When you slowly sank down onto him, you heard a loud moan from the other side of the blanket that was still covering you. Tight hands gripping onto your bum when you had taken him in fully, confirmed to you that your boyfriend was now awake - and ready for whatever was to come.
“Good morning,” you whispered, your head now peeking out from under the duvet.
Your boyfriend was still lying on his back with his eyes closed, but you still perceived his sensual and exciting expression as he licked over his lips and groggily fluttered his lids open.
With a grin, Jaehyun greeted you hoarsely, “‘morning.”
Your palms were placed flat onto his chest as the blanket slipped over your shoulders along your back and revealed your upper body that was only covered in your silken top. To Jaehyun, this was a sight he couldn’t get enough of, jolting him entirely awake now.
You put your weight on your forearms, just enough for you to lift your hips and come down at him again. Not much later, your moans filled the entire room, sunlight dancing across your skins on whichever part was currently in the right angle as you bobbed up and down on him.
Your back arched, your hair falling over your shoulder blades in long, silken streaks as the strands simultaneously moved to the rhythm you applied to Jaehyun’s groin. Not much later, your skin was glistening with sweat and you fell limply on your boyfriend’s chest as you had run out of strength.
Putting his arms around you, Jaehyun hurried you along until you bit into his shoulder to suppress your scream as you shook in his embrace. Shortly after, when you slowly calmed down, it was his turn. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, faltering between every syllable as he came.
You had never doubted that Jaehyun loved you very much. You had been very sure that he loved you even more than when he was the happiest with his ex-girlfriend.
But now, you weren’t quite so sure anymore. 
Not even when he took his time and risked being late to work just to cuddle with you in the aftermath.
____
Second
“What are you doing here?”
Jaehyun looked at you with very much surprise from across his desk when you closed the door behind you. You had visited him a few times at his workplace already, to bring him food or quickly say hello when you had been in the neighborhood - but never with such an intention.
The fabric of your trenchcoat felt cold on your skin as you wore nothing underneath other than the lingerie that you had actually wanted to save for your anniversary celebration. But until then, you had decided, you would buy a new set and use this one for this certain occasion.
Jaehyun couldn’t believe his eyes when you opened the coat’s belt across your waist and flashed him the sexiest set of red underwear that he had hopefully ever seen in his life. You physically watched his jaw drop and him taking off and then putting on again his glasses just to make sure that what he was currently witnessing was, indeed, real.
“Today is not my birthday, right?” You saw him gulp as his Adam’s apple moved along his neck, and you had to suppress a chuckle catching him so off guard. “Then I must be dreaming.”
“You’re not,” you answered and approached him in your heels that were also new. “Today is just your lucky day.”
“Then can every day be my lucky day?”
When you stood right in front of him after he had come forward from his seat, you let the trenchcoat slide down your shoulders, revealing the new bra fully, and your boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off of you once again. 
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Then show me,” you challenged him. “Show me how much you want me. Right here and now.”
… and not her, you added silently in your mind, but pushed this intrusive thought right aside, because you wanted to live in this moment with Jaehyun and no one else.
“Very well,” he agreed and helped you take off the trenchcoat.
You were allowed to keep wearing your lingerie when Jaehyun grabbed you by your buttocks and placed your legs around either side of his hips just so that he could carry you. With one swift motion, he had turned you to his desk and kept you in place with one arm while the other reached out and threw everything in his reach from the desk onto the floor. 
Then, he placed you on the surface and parted your thighs with his hips. The moment he loosened his tie was the moment you lost it too, because, once again, it hit you out of nowhere how perfect your boyfriend was and that you actually shouldn’t care who had been with before and what he had done with that person.
Jaehyun was all yours when he slipped his fingers into your lace panties and pushed them into you to collect the fluids inside of you as you had gotten so wet already. He was all yours, when he dragged his hand along your folds and caused you to shudder with this motion only as they reached your clit. 
And he was also all yours when you couldn’t bear it for much longer and put your heels up on either side right on top of the desk to give him better access to enter you.
You were laying flat on the surface with your elbows propped up for support so that you could watch him thrust right into you. Jaehyun’s hair swung with each push and grew damp over time on the tips that touched his sweaty forehead. His fingers were still buried into your upper thighs so that no thrust would go astray, and when he looked up, you encountered this hungry look in his eyes.
He was long not done, and you only hoped that his short lunch break was enough for what he had still in store for you.
And as you were finally letting yourself go too, lying back down on the desk and moaning his name just loud enough to not to travel to the other offices, you wondered if he had done something like this before just by the way he knew what to do and how to enjoy it.
____
Third
You had set up a fancy dinner for Jaehyun later that evening. After having surprised him at his office, you had gone straight back to your own workplace and finished earlier to buy and prepare his favorite food.
By the time he was home, you had the appetizer and steak with side dishes ready, and even though you had been in a hurry to fix dinner, you were pretty impressed with how everything had turned out. After all, today, everything had to be perfect for this mission.
“Are you sure it’s not my birthday or another important date that I forgot about?”
Jaehyun raised a brow when he saw that you had set up the whole atmosphere with fancy crockery, cutlery and even lightened up candles. Usually, on weekdays, when you both had to work, you just threw something easy and light together and ate on the couch in front of the TV.
“Can’t I just do something nice for my boyfriend when I have the day off?”
“I mean… I’m not complaining. But this is the third nice thing you’re doing for me today. What did I do to deserve this?”
You put your hands around his neck and shook your head. “You’re just being you. Isn’t that enough.”
You got on your tiptoes to kiss him and were already looking forward to serving him dessert. And with “dessert” you didn’t mean ice cream or cake, because you had not prepared such. With “dessert” you meant having Jaehyun right under you at your mercy not even an hour later.
“Stop, stop!” Jaehyun breathed and stretched out his hand to gently lay it on the top of your head.
With a slurping sound, you let go of him and looked up to your boyfriend who was spread out on the couch underneath you. 
“You don’t like it?” you worried, because Jaehyun actually never said no to getting head. Again, you wondered what you did wrong and if he had ever said no to his ex. You bet not.
He cupped your face and softly pulled you up to him so that you were now hovering over his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” he grinned and kissed your smudged lips. “You did so much for me today, let me do something for you too.”
Not much later, you were a writhing, whiny mess, legs locked between Jaehyun’s head while he licked you like you were his literal dessert after this feast. You had cum twice in a row already and were thinking that if he wouldn’t stop now, you wouldn’t have much energy for the real deal soon.
“Already out of breath?” 
“Please… I just want you inside of me,” you begged.
“Very well.”
He took you on all fours from behind this time, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling you back every now and then to either kiss you or groan lewd words into your ear that made you blush slightly. In no way would one assume your boyfriend had this side to him if one were to meet him on the streets. 
How lucky you were. 
And other girls before that too, apparently.
But again, you pushed that thought aside when Jaehyun smacked your cheek and you let out a shriek that blended with your orgasm in the exact same moment. Pain and pleasure became indistinguishable, and that made it even more exciting as you experienced a high that only seldomly occurred. 
When you laid with your sweaty bodies chest to chest, you came to the conclusion that it probably truly didn’t matter what had ever been before you when the present was so beautiful. 
You didn’t want your insecurities to get the better of you, but your boyfriend was so perfect that you constantly wondered if one day, he would have enough of you if you couldn’t give the best like he deserved.
____
Fourth
“No.”
Your heart sank and you directly pulled your dressing gown close again. Underneath it, you wore a negligee that only rarely got put into use, but for the fourth time today, you wanted to present it to Jaehyun when he returned from the bathroom.
You only had two more times to go, you assumed you could get it done right now.
Your disappointment and shock were very visibly written all over your face though, and immediately, your boyfriend started to apologize.
“Look…” He seated himself next to you on the bed and looked at you with apologetic eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up over this! I really appreciate everything you did today, but it was a long day overall for me and I have to get up early again tomorrow. I just can’t keep up anymore today. It was great three times, but I’m physically at my end too and I really need to sleep soon.”
You didn’t want to say it. You truly didn’t. But your impulsive part had gotten the upper hand as all your feelings that you had been suppressing throughout the day boiled down to this one sentence,
“I bet you didn’t say that to your ex when you did it five times a day.”
For an unusually long time, Jaehyun stayed quiet and you feared that you had sabotaged your relationship at this point. 
“I knew there was something up with you,” he eventually said. “You shouldn’t have gone to that gathering, even though the other girls are still friends with her.”
“But I did, because I’m nosy and foolish.” You paused. “Are you mad now?”
“Yes.” Your heart dropped, but before you could defend yourself, Jaehyun continued, “I’m mad because you have let her confuse and make you question our relationship based on… what?”
Ruefully, you confessed, “She said that you had sex five times a day.” You sensed how he repressed laughter that was deeper than usual, so he wasn’t making fun. “What is it? Is it not true?”
Honestly, perhaps you should have asked Jaehyun before reacting blindly out of impulse, because after all, this cheating girl was a liar. But sadly, he dismissed your glimpse of hope.
“We did.” Jaehyun’s head dropped at the same moment as your heart. “This is true.”
“Oh…” 
You knew the person you should be angry at was yourself, not Jaehyun or his ex. You hadn’t been romantically involved at that time, it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. But you couldn’t help but to compare yourself to her over and over again. 
What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just switch this off? Why was there no button connected to your feelings?
Something warm suddenly touched your hand, and it was Jaehyun’s, taking yours into his. You didn’t dare to look up, that was how ashamed you felt for yourself. 
“It was only one time,” he started calmly. “There was a snowstorm outside, so it was dangerous for her to go home. She stayed an entire day and night, that was when it happened. And do you know why it happened?”
You shrugged. You were unsure whether you actually wanted to know all the details to feed your insecurities even more.
“Don’t worry, the answer won’t be as you expect.” Jaehyun squeezed your hands and continued with a patient, tender tone, “The reason wasn’t because I found her more beautiful or hotter than you. Believe me, you are the only one for me. I cannot even look at other women and not think ‘Wow, I got the most beautiful girl out of all the girls in the world. She’s so perfect, I’m so lucky!’” Your cheeks were burning, but you kept listening diligently. “The reason was because we literally had nothing to talk about.”
Now, you lifted your head and faced your boyfriend who encouragingly smiled at you. He was sincere, you saw it clearly in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that whenever we spent so much time with each other, we never had something to talk about. We had absolutely no common interests or topics of which we felt the need to engage in. The only attraction we had was a physical one, so when we were forced to stay with each other so long, there was nothing else that we could do.”
Jaehyun let go of your fingers and wrapped his hands around your waist instead to pull you into his warm lap, and you let him.
"Absolutely nothing?” you wanted to make sure. This indeed surprised you.
He chuckled ironically. “Yes, absolutely nothing.”
“But we always talk non stop.”
“I know.” You felt his full lips pressing into your cheek and smiled. “We are not only physically connected, but emotionally as well. Isn’t that beautiful? Do you know how much that is worth and that some people seek for a connection like ours an entire lifetime? I enjoy physical contact with you just as much as our conversations and laughter. There is no need to fill a void, because there is none in the first place.”
You had never thought that Jaehyun felt like that and it touched your heart very deeply. “When I heard her saying this, I was worried you would soon be bored with me if I couldn’t keep up.”
“No, don’t ever think that!” Jaehyun drew you close to his chest and you laid your head on his shoulder. “Our love came unexpectedly for each of us, and I think we both had to learn that the right love was calm and steady, not these highs and lows with many fights. This is how it’s supposed to be, don’t let it make you feel unsure because you’re not used to it too. We’re here now, we shouldn’t look back.”
Hearing this from him set your mind at ease. It made many things better that were here temporarily, but you were also aware that in order to fight any doubts you were holding against your relationship, you had to fight your inner demons first. 
It couldn’t be done in a day, but you would work hard, taking one step at a time and just believe in your boyfriend who assured you every day in many ways that his feelings were true and unwavering, no matter how big the demon had grown at this point. 
“I love you, Jaehyun.”
“Of course I love you too.” He chuckled. “You make me laugh, you defend me, you fight me, you challenge me, and whenever I’m at my wit’s end, you bring me back to life. This is worth so much more and there is no one else I can ever imagine being with again. To me, you’re perfect.”
“Funny,” you whispered as you felt him pressing a kiss onto your parting. “I always think that about you too.”
There was no need for a fourth or fifth time.
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