#I would prefer watching someone deal with these feelings without randomly turning on everyone

[thatwrestlingnerd]

Anyway Sami has the right to feel how he feels because it sucks to be separated from your partner but Jey is literally doing the stuff Sami suggested to him (getting away from Roman, finding his footing on his own).

Kevin being the one traded wasn’t Jey’s decision. In fact, the trade hadn’t even been part of the picture when he chose to take Cody’s offer. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Sami recognizes he’s frustrated at the wrong person.

#wwe #wwe lb #sami zayn #jey uso #I am gonna be so tired if they just make him heel for this #I would prefer watching someone deal with these feelings without randomly turning on everyone

[moved--accs]

glowing | lee know.

You know that your feelings for Lee Minho were past a simple crush at this point–you really couldn’t bring yourself to date other people without the constant thought that they’re not him haunting your mind. But somewhere between sly smirks and stolen glances, you knew he was intrested in you too. You also knew your brother would absolutely hate seeing his little sister with one of his best friends, but Minho won’t tell if you don’t.

Best friend’s brother!Minho, female reader. ~8.2k words.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), very slight dom!minho i guess, one thigh slap, minho spits in reader’s mouth (i’m sorry), penetration, squirting and unprotected sex. MDNI.

Author’s note: this was requested by cait !! i love you cait !! tysm for sticking around for so long, it means the world to me <333 i really don’t know how i feel about this one since it’s my longest oneshot yet, but i hope everyone enjoys it :) also, if you like listening to music while reading, bad idea by ariana grande really helped me settle the mood for this. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 

To you, Minho is a force of nature. His stance alone demands attention in every room he walks into: sharp and seemingly judgy eyes tear people apart in the matter of a milisecond, then a sudden shift of countenance would offer a sweet, charming smile at them. But never to you. He carries a couple of years more than you on his back, experience and maturity seem to bleed through every interaction you have–promptly, and unknowingly, putting you in your place whenever you two exchange a simple, two-second glance with each other.

To you, Minho is magnetic. It seemed to be a shared secret, those glances you stole from each other. You only ever were in the same space when your older brother called his friends over, half a dozen bodies always in the way of your favorite activity–catch him looking. The way he never shied away always made you shiver. You tell yourself you broke eye contact so quickly because you were afraid someone would catch on to this ongoing staring contest, but really, you don't think you can handle to watch the smirk grow on his lips without tripping over nothing. Minho never smiled at you. It was never sweet–every single time he acknowledged you felt like a dare. With avoidant eyes and shaky hands, you played into every single one of them.

"I can drive her, man. It's no big deal." He told your brother–who was locking your home's door behind him–but his eyes didn't leave yours.

Your brother often invited you to hang out with his friends, so when he randomly showed up in your room asking if you'd like to join them for a night out, you had no reason to say no. The thing is: all the seats in your brother's car were already taken by his girlfriend and her friends, who were currently already getting comfortable in his vehicle. Minho's eyes are locked in yours, his black hair glistening blue in the moonlight making him look a bit more intimidating, much more inviting. The smirk in his lips is a telltale–as if he's challenging you to say no. You could get an Uber to the party–you know that–or you could simply tell your brother to politely ask one of his partner's friends to find another ride. Maybe that would come off as a bit rude, but you know he'd do it for you. You could even sit in one of the girls' laps, that's not unusual. He knows that, and he's looking at you as if your head is transparent, and he can see all of the cogs putting in the work.

"Are you sure? GPS is saying it's kind of a long drive, and I know you'll want to drink when we get there."

"I'm fine with taking her as long as she prefers getting an Uber or something." Minho says, turning to your brother for a brief moment, "It's up to her, really."

Forty minutes is not that long, but you know it would feel like ages.

"What do you say?" Your brother turns to you.

You've never been fully alone with him before, jumping from that to spending such long time by yourselves, in his car, seems suffocating. Too secluded. Too private. You feel the familiar shaking in your hands as they run down your skirt, straightening them.

"Fine by me."

You know you're staring–for some reason, you don't mind. Minho's eyes are focused on the road before you, midnight blue hair split in the middle, giving him a much bolder look than his usual fluffy bangs. The reflection of the city lights make his skin glow–iridescent glimmers of yellow, white and green paint his face–allowing you to get a full glimpse of his expression only for brief seconds.

He doesn't mind that you're staring either–his eyes find yours in a quick shift, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You're not that bold when your brother's around."

You can feel your stomach turning. Straight to the point, then.

"Neither are you."

The man scoffs, looking out the window before replying. "You wouldn't be either if you heard how protective he is over you."

"I'm grown."

His head fully turns to you for the first time throughout this exchange, the empty road before him forgotten for a couple seconds. Minho's eyes shamelessly linger on your thighs as they travel up your body, until his gaze meets yours. He clicks his tongue, smirk growing on his lips right before his attention turns back to the road. "I can see that."

Effective as always, the words start fumbling in your brain as you struggle to form a coherent thought–you had to talk back. Anything.

"You're always staring at me. When you come over." Your voice is so quiet you wonder if he can hear you over the hum of wheels against concrete.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply immediately, looking at him. "not at all."

He nods, humming. "Do you like how I look at you?"

Minho seems nonchalant, but also a bit expectant. The butterflies in your stomach seem like they won't allow you to answer nothing as witty as you had hoped.

"I do. You can... keep doing that."

He quickly looks at you again, smiling. "I can?" The car feels airtight after the next words lowly leave his lips. "Would you mind if I did something other than just look?"

Careful, quiet, expectant. If you stroke a match, the whole car would light on fire. "Weren't you worried about my brother?"

Your eyes are focused on the road, but you can hear the click of his tongue, "I won't tell if you don't."

The music is loud, and although enjoyable, you really can't bring yourself to focus on the party. The culprit was quick to lose you as soon as you both got to your destination, letting you know he was looking for your older brother. It seemed as if the group had gotten completely lost within the drunk crowd, and you were putting on an effort to not care about his absence, what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. But still, you could look for your brother. If Minho happened to be hanging around him, that would be purely a coincidence.

Still, your ego wouldn't give in. 'Enjoy tonight, forget about him. Dance like he's not watching–you'd get too shy if he was. Maybe I should drink, I'd feel more comfortable dancing. But I wanna stay sober tonight, though. Just in case. Forget about him.' It felt like the hardest you tried to empty your mind, the more Minho would plague it. You always feel like there's a pair of sharp eyes on you, even though you haven't seen him since you walked into this party. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, it probably was. Still, each time you sway your hips, you picture this specific set of eyes on you, studying your movements. You could feel it in the back of your neck, disappearing just in time before you turned around to catch him. If you were drunk, at least you'd have an excuse to think the way you are right now, but your only frail attempt of an excuse is how much you want him.

As it turns out, it seems like you were way too busy not looking for Minho to notice his presence before his breath touched your cheek, hand on your hip as he swayed behind you. "You're watching people walk in and out of this room like a hawk." You feel his gaze burning on your profile. "Who're you looking for? Wooseok?" He chuckles as you dramatically roll your eyes at him, "He sure as hell has been looking for you."

"I didn't even notice him, so..." Your stare back at him, immediately locked in a trance. His dark eyes seem to suck you in, everything else in the room drifting away when you focus on them.

Minho hums, bringing your back closer to his chest. "Of course you didn't." You don't fight against the way he spins you around, pressing your chest against his, lost in a sea of bodies touching each other. "You don't have eyes for anyone else, do you?"

Somewhere in the distance, too far away from the reality which Minho has sucked you into, you think you hear Wooseok calling your name. You can't really tell, though. Not when Lee Minho is looking down at you like that. Reality creeps it's way back into your mind when the man's head shoots up, apparently spotting his friend in the crowd. Minho backs up, meaning to leave the scene before he arrives. "You said you like it when I watch you." He says. "Put on a show."

Wooseok's hands are on your waist, his chest to your back. You're pretty sure he whispered something as he squeezed your hips, but you didn't quite catch it–Minho was leaning against the wall, eyes dead set on you. The poor lighting makes his gaze more intimidating as he brought a cup to his lips, eyes never leaving you. Slowly, his focus switches from your eyes to your neck. Your body rolls against the boy behind you, making sure your ass didn't touch his crotch. The only person you wanted to touch you like that is currently looking at you from across the room–his countenance seeming more and more annoyed the more you seem to enjoy Wooseok. It's your turn to smirk at him–for the first time ever, you're the one setting the game's rules. You keep your attention on Minho as you throw your head back on Wooseok's shoulder, letting him kiss down your neck.

How silly to think he'd hand the control over to you for this long. Minho brings his phone to his ear, sweetly smiling at you as he speaks. You keep dancing with the clueless boy behind you, putting on your best show for the man before you. He no longer tries to hide how long he admires your cleavage, jaw clenching each time Wooseok's hands would try to wander over your body. You'd stop him just before he reached your ass or your chest just to give Minho enough time to react–to watch the genuine annoyance on his face as someone else touched you. The butterflies in your stomach flap their wings violently at the indication that the man might be thinking about how he doesn't want no one else with their hands on you, the mere possibility of making him jealous starting to take over your consciousness. Suddenly, Minho smiles sweetly again. Way too sweetly. Before you can react, Wooseok seems to have been snatched off of your body–the heat of his back disappearing abruptly.

"Are you fucking serious, Wooseok? Out of all the people in this party?!" Oh, of fucking course. You can see Minho starts to laugh before you turn around, immediately approaching your brother. Wooseok stumbles, trying to regain balance after your brother pushed him off of you.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?" You maintain you eyes focused on your brother, guiding him away from Wooseok.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?! What was that for?!" You weren't worried about an actual physical fight happening–you know both of them, and you know they wouldn't take it that far. Still, the way Wooseok raises his voice at your brother startles you.

"You're really gonna act like you don't know what that was for?"

Even though you were standing right in front of him, your brother's eyes were focused solely on the boy. "Hey, he wasn't doing anything by himself, alright?" He looks down at you, jawline clenched. "It's not a big deal."

"You don't need to pull shit like this. She's an adult, man."

"And you don't need to act like you're not always trying to pull my sister."

"What if I am? What the fuck does that have to do with you?!"

"Hey, hey, hey." Minho appears from Wooseok's side. He had a small smirk on his lips that didn't quite match the situation at hand. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Nothing new, Min. He just can't keep it in his pants whenever she's around." Your brother says, gaze not budging from Wooseok's face as he tilts his head towards you.

"Chill the fuck out, alright? You're making me sound like a creep."

"I don't care. If you go after your friend's little sister you're a fucking creep."

You watch as Minho intervenes, calmly talking to both men as he attempts and succeeds to settle their nerves. His eyes switch from one side to the other, persuasive as always, convincing both of them to let it go. Your brother seems defeated when he finally turns to you. "Are you alright?"

You roll your eyes at the question. "Why wouldn't I be? He wasn't doing anything wrong."

"I don't know, you just seem tired."

"Well, yeah, obviously. This whole thing was stressful. I'm just glad nobody here gives a fuck to make a scene out of it." You sigh, looking over the crowd with crossed arms. "I'm done for tonight, though. I think I'm going home."

Your brother's demeanour is drastically different from earlier–puffed chest turned to slump shoulders, clenched jaw turned to a frown. You would feel sorry for him if this whole fiasco didn't affect directly the one thing you want so badly to happen tonight. Sure, Minho only snitched because he knew your brother's reaction would be bad–but you wonder if it was somehow worse than he imagined, if this whole headache was worth it. If you were worth it. All you know is you'd argue with your brother a million times if it meant Minho would touch you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can give you a ride." You're about to deny your brother's offer, but Minho never loses a single opportunity.

"Really? You wanna leave already?" He asks the boy.

"Not really. I wanna stay. But if I ruined the night, then-"

"You can stay, man. I can take her. I was about to head home, anyway."

"He's right." You're learning how to follow his lead. "I don't want you to leave because of me."

Your brother looks at Minho and then at you. The air the three of you share seems heavy all of a sudden, the forced proximity due to the push and pull of the crowd suddenly suffocating. But then, your brother smiles. "I really owe you one, man."

Minho's touch on your wrist as he guides you out of the party lights your skin on fire, anticipation eating up your nerves. You wonder if you'll make it to his house at all–you hope you don't. You hope he gets so desperate to touch you he doesn't care who's seeing, you hope he fucks you in his car and when you get to his house and when you wake up the morning after.

But that's just wishful thinking–that's your brain and your anticipation and your yearning yelling at the top of its' lungs, begging for the man who's leading you down the street to look your way so he can see the sheer desperation in your eyes. But Minho's not like you at all. And he's not like the million versions your mind made him out to be, either. Minho is cool, collected. Years of being around him and you've never seen him lose composure, and your gut feeling tells you you won't see it tonight.

Charming as always, he opens the door to the passenger seat when you finally reach his car. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as he starts driving, waiting for him to give you any sign of a confirmation that this is really going where you think it is.

"You look nervous." His hair was messy from how much he pushed it back throughout the night–repeating the motion now, eyes fix on the road, a few buttons now loose on his shirt. He looked more relaxed and it blew your mind how he managed to end the night looking better than how he started it. "There's no need to be. I can just take you home, if that's what you want."

"So... that wasn't the plan all along?" The breathiness of your voice, or perhaps the words that were attached to it, make the man chuckle, quickly stealing a glance from you.

"The plan is whatever you want it to be."

The car falls silent, his open invitation hovering over you as the street lights colour the beautiful boy beside you like a blank canvas. You wondered how on earth your body was able to prevent itself from lighting on fire–you could feel your fingertips burning with pure want, skin attracted to his like magnet. As every inch of your being desperately tried to keep your composure, you were able to mutter an answer just above a whisper. "I just-" You swallow the lump in your throat, "I'm waiting for a green light, Min."

You both know that's bullshit, and Minho's smile proves that. You have been known he was interested in you, but the sheer intimidation you felt every time he looked your way had you convinced that you would never, in a million years, make a move on him. Minho can't help but find it adorable–the way you'd squirm in your seat to avoid looking at him, hands fidgety every time he talked to you, eyes shaky every time he caught you looking. Your body language was screaming for him every second he was around, but this drawn out torture was too delicious for him to just give in to without watching you struggle first. He smirks to the road ahead of him, chuckling before replying. "You have one now. What are you gonna do with it?"

You whimper, and his eyes switch to you for a moment as fast as lighting. "Can't you just..." You trail off, hips settling further on his passenger seat.

"Can't I just...?"

"Make things easier for me?"

He chuckles, "And where's the fun in that, pretty?"

Your body leans slightly towards him before you can process it, desperation finally catching onto your sanity. You're doe eyed as your torso turns towards his direction, demanding attention which he, obviously, doesn't give you. "I want you to take me home, Min."

"I'm doing that."

"No, I-" your heart beats so loud in your eardrums you can't really hear the next words leaving your mouth–that might be the sole reason why you were able to say them. "I want your hands on me."

His hand immediately lands on your thigh, groping the flesh as he hummed, focus still on the road. Your foolish heart soars at how fast he reacted, and even though your shaky voice leaves you in no position to tease him, you can't help yourself. "You seem eager."

He raises an eyebrow when he looks your way, detaching his palm from your skin and tracing his fingertips up your inner thigh until your breath hitches in your throat. He chuckles at your gasp, hand now gripping your thigh again. "Do I?"

Your legs spread instinctively, making the man hum in satisfaction, stealing a glimpse of your thighs every once in a while. As he gets bolder, you get more desperate–the anticipation making your cunt flutter around nothing, watching as his fingers get closer to where they belong. You quietly whine his name when his hand slips under your dress, middle finger tapping your clothed core. He laughs at you as his other hand turns the wheel. "You don't know how long I've been wanting to get you like this- all shy and whiny for me." He explains, finger tracing your clothed slit ever so slightly, feeling the fabric dampen. "Did dancing with Wooseok get you this excited?"

You stutter when you reply, unable to look away from his hand moving on your crotch, "No, no. I- kept thinking about you."

He nods, an understating hum settles on his throat, voice as calm as ever. "That's why you kept looking at me? Wish it was me dancing with you instead of him?"

"Yeah, you... I always think about you, when I feel like this..." You can't help squirming when he applies more pressure to your clit, circling the nerve with the tip of his finger.

"Then you know it should've been me touching you like that." A whine almost escapes your throat when you hear the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

"I didn't let him touch me, though." You admit. Minho's eyebrows shoot up, wordlessly questioning you. "He was really close, but his body wasn't really... Touching mine. My back was against his chest, but that's it." You know you don't really owe Minho an explanation, but you've always felt this need to let him know he's the only one who makes you feel drunk in desire. You want him to know he shouldn't worry about competition because he doesn't have any.

When these words reach Minho's ears, his fingers push your underwear to the side, spreading your wetness through your slit. A reward. "This is all me, then?" He says, referring to your arousal. "It's all for me?"

You nod as you take deep breaths–trying to accommodate your body to the foreign feeling that is having his hands on you after wanting him for so long. You can feel shivers awakening all across your skin and you can only hope he won't tease you for it, knuckles hurting from gripping the cushion beneath you. "Yes, you know I only have eyes for you."

His focus doesn't detach from the road when he smiles, fingers swiping the wetness from your slit directly to your clit, quickening the pace. Your hips keep stuttering despite your efforts to keep them in place, he notices your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it turned to the window–even though he wasn't looking at you, you still felt the need to hide from his eyes.

"You won't be able to hide when I get you under me." His calm voice comes out as a purr, a hum vibrating on his throat as his finger's pace stays consistent. "Gonna spread you out in my bed and make you keep your eyes on me as I fuck the shyness out of you." You shut your thighs around his wrist, making him force them open and earning a slap to your inner thigh. Your head spins as you let out a groan, legs parting as far as they physically can for him, hips rising from the seat slightly when his touch finds you again. "Stop squirming." He says, tone noticeably more demanding than before.

You struggle to reply through compressed moans, "I'm sorry, I can't- 's too much."

"Too close?" He asks as your thighs start to shake, and you pray to whoever might be listening to please, please don't let him stop.

The confirmation comes out in hurried whispers. "Yeah, close, close."

"Already? So easy to please, pretty." The embarrassment tensing your muscles gets mixed with pleasure. Your eyes shut tightly, head thrown back on his head restraint, focusing on the feeling of his fingers and getting high on the sound of his voice. "Hope you can take a couple more rounds."

With that, Minho's ministrations become quicker, rougher–his middle and index finger making a mess of your arousal all over your clit, careful to not let his pace relent when you start moaning for him, thighs shuddering around his wrist.

Even though you were able to feel your orgasm slowly creeping up on you, it's intensity gave you whiplash. Minho's presence was the only thing tangible in the back of your mind as your hips bucked against his hand–mind so clouded your loud moans felt distant as your body squirmed in place, heat flowing through your skin.

The car feels like it’s reached forty degrees when you manage to get the feel of your limbs back, window beside you completely fogged by your laboured breathing. Minho's hand is still in your pussy, leisurely coating your arousal through your folds. You miss the way he smiles when he eases two fingers into you for the first time, head thrown back once again as your mouth drops open. A whine of his name makes him chuckle once again.

"Don't worry, I'm not making you come again until we get home." He says, barely above a whisper, taking a moment to watch his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "Just wanna feel you for a bit."

You don't know how long the torture lasts until you reach Minho's place–the car ride felt entirely too short but unnecessarily long. He kept his fingers curled upwards, switching from hard, slow pushes to quick ones–leaving just his fingertips inside to slowly push them in again, massaging your cunt to quickly pulling in and out of you so fast you knew his wrist would be sore by the end of the night, but Minho didn't really seem to mind. In fact, he almost looks bored–lazily averting his gaze from the road to look your way every now again, breaking into a smirk every time he stilled his fingers buried deep inside of you when you sounded like you were having too good of a time.

When he parks, Minho nonchalantly brings his fingers, that were inside you a millisecond ago, to his mouth and starts licking them clean as he picks up his keys and phone with his free hand, then hops off the car.

Your headspace is cloudy, but you’re present enough to register him opening the door for you and taking you by the hand, leading you inside the building.

When he finally kisses you, Minho is gentle. The warmth of his covers beneath you is almost as comforting as the softness of his pouty lips carefully meeting yours–months upon months of yearning finally ceasing. Although he already made you cum, although you enjoyed all the crude things leaving his lips–this is what you were really longing for. Suddenly, whatever happened in his car just a few minutes prior is forgotten–the butterflies in your stomach soaring as you open your mouth for his tongue to make home. 

Minho cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as his lips move against yours–the weight of his body pinning you against his mattress. His hand on your jaw helps him control the kiss as you follow his lead, soft hums of satisfaction coming from both of you the longer Minho’s tongue insists in tasting yours. You don’t know how long he kisses you, you don’t know how long your eyes stay closed. Your body feels as light as a feather when his hands start caressing your sides, lifting your dress up to your waist.

You're pure heat when Minho's hands palm your ass, kneading the skin as his kisses lower their way from your lips to your neck. You shudder under him, sighing to the feeling of him biting, then lolling his tongue over the bruise–almost like he purposefully wanted to leave a mark. Several marks. Minho easily restrains your attempts to squirm away from his mouth, relishing in your needy whines as he kisses lower down your body–smirk permanently stuck on his countenance growing wider each time your fingers, which were lazily massaging his scalp, tugged on his locks.

Minho gulps when he finally allows you to separate from him and take off your dress–his focus now entirely on your bare torso laying back down before him. His cock twitches in his pants, which suddenly feel way too tight and less appropriate to the situation at hand. He practically drools as he positions himself between your legs–both elbows planted on the bed as he gripped each side of your thighs. Minho realizes that if he has you under him, he's way too far gone to notice anything else–quiet cries and whines that sneak their way out of your lips ring loud on his ears, making him all the more eager to have you fucked out of your mind–pretty mouth constantly hanging open, unable to suppress all the sounds he yearns to hear.

A moan escapes your lips when you realize where he's leading this, but you can't help but protest, hips stuttering in his hold. "I want you inside, Min."

He hums in agreement as he slowly kisses up your right thigh, low voice muffled by your skin. "Gonna make you come on my tongue first."

"But I'm all stretched out, you already made me come back in the car-" you part your legs wider for him, inviting, trying your best to be convincing, "just want your cock, Minho. Please."

His chuckle is so adorable it almost throws you off the haze, but it’s only a second until his eyes darken again. “No, baby. I got you so wet I think I’ve earned a taste. It’s only fair."

Thankfully, the eagerness you’ve been felling for the past hour or so seems to finally catch up to Minho. Heaven knows you wish you were strong enough to watch him–pouty plump lips that usually look so adorable in your eyes now become the eighth deadly sin. Head thrown back and eyes closed, you can somehow fell the room spinning in the back of your head when the tip of Minho’s tongue meets your folds, gently tracing along your slit. You feel the goosebumps waking up along your skin, clueless hands stroking his locks.

To Minho, you’re a force of nature. You always have been. A walking magnet, clueless to the effect you had on people just by blinking your pretty lashes at them, at him. Shy but curious eyes, voice remarkbly confident and enthusiastic when you interacted with everyone else but him–an outgoing girl becoming a stuttering mess each time he walked into a room. Minho knew you would absolutely ruin him the moment he saw you. Now it’s only fair he ruined everyone else for you, too. 

It feels surreal to have you under him on the very same bed he came so many times to the thought of you, but his imagination could never top reality–you feel warm and soft on his tongue, wetness leaking out of you with every swipe of the muscle over your slit. His ministrations are featherlight against you, but as always, your reactions are what really get to Minho. Your back arches off the bed anytime he adds the smallest bit of pressure to his licking–he can feel the shivers as he runs his hands from your hips, that are constantly trying to stutter away from him, up your thighs.

Minho's own hips rut against the mattress when he finally allows his tongue inside. A loud, strangled moan leaves your lips and now it's his turn to shiver–your soft, needy cunt flutters around the muscle as he licks upwards, lolling his tongue, drinking everything you give him. His head spins as he gets drunk off of your scent, your taste, your moans–he doesn't even realize how fast his tongue has been moving inside of you until you let out a specially long whine.

Restlessness starts stirring up on your core, the intense tingling on your insides making you want to both roll your hips into Minho's mouth and squirm away from him at the same time. His grip on you was iron–veiny hands keeping your thighs spread, fingertips digging into your skin every time your legs instinctively tried to shut around him. Your mind becomes smaller and smaller as the pleasure builds up–consciousness barely there to hear the sinful sounds coming from Minho's mouth. His eyes are closed as his tongue massages your cunt, lapping up every last bit of your arousal and spreading it all over your cunt when he flattens his tongue on your slit, licking upwards to your clit. You feel your whole body tremble when he starts to circle the tip of his tongue against the bud, slowly at first, eyes now open to watch the way your body quivers to his ministrations. Splayed out over his bed, back arching off the bed constantly and grabby hands pulling into his locks, the pillow, his covers–any touch that could distract you just a bit from the alarming amount of pleasure you were whining your way through.

Minho can't help the mess–his head tilting every now and again, slowly stroking his tongue on your clit as his plush lips sucked it into his mouth. He could see the wetness dripping down your ass and pooling into the mattress–he could feel your arousal all over his lips and chin, the tip of his nose nudging your clit when his tongue snakes it's way inside you again. He started eating you out mostly with your pleasure in mind, but now as he notices your moans getting muffled by the loud sounds coming out of where you two connect, he realizes that he won't be able to go a single day without not wanting to have his face between your legs. Hell, he was so close to edging you just so he could eat you out longer–keep you bucking your hips into his face as you grew more desperate for release each time, his tongue reaching deeper inside due to the force with which you'd roll your torso towards him. But he still wants to finish the night inside you, and by the way your entire body is trembling and how loud you've been moaning, Minho reckons he has to be nice if he wants you to take another round.

So, he carefully builds up your pleasure–lips insistent around your clit as the tip of his tongue flickered the bud, finding humour on how your body tried to thrash around the bed but couldn’t do much due to his grip on your waist. Minho smiles around your cunt when your legs start shaking violently, hips attempting to raise off the bed simply because it was too much–his mouth is warm and soft, his movements so precise it startles you how quickly he took in your reactions, learning exactly what you like in no time. Either that, or he’s just Minho, and that’s just how his alluring aura manifests itself in every aspect of his life. Luring you in, hypnotizing you, locking you in his trance. A siren.

Your head rolls as further back as it can over his pillows, eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hanged open–you don’t know how loud you were moaning, you can’t tell if you were moaning at all. Your brain was mush as your orgasm thrashed through you–Minho keeping your hips in place as your limbs gain a life of their own. The only parts of your body you could feel were the ones where his touch was burning into you, numb to anything else but the man between your legs.

He coaxes you through your high, thumb stroking your skin and keeping the stimulation consistent until your body relaxed onto the bed–chest heaving with laboured breathes. Minho doesn’t look so composed himself as he kneels between your legs, taking his own shirt off before laying on top of you. His ears, neck, chest are beet red–face glistening with reminiscents of you and drowsy eyes scanning over your body, hands landing one on your waist, the other on your cheek, elbow supporting his weight on the bed.

You mindlessly lean into his touch, cupping his hand on your cheek and dragging it closer to your mouth until you were able to suck his thumb into your lips, sleepy eyes locked on his. You were growing addicted to his smirk and the darkness of his room and the pretty stars you could see through his open window–already able to tell he would haunt every single one of your dreams.

“Desperate little thing.” He coos, voice so sweet you suspect he was mocking you. He chuckles at your whine–eyebrows furrowed to express indignation, “What do you want?”

Suddenly popping his finger out of your mouth, you raise your neck off the bed in order to bite his lower lip, bringing him closer to you. When he follows, you lay your head back on the pillow and open your mouth up wide, tongue sticking out for him. Minho clicks his tongue, eyebrows raised as he looked down at you for a few seconds, smile growing wider. Then, his hand cups your jaw, holding your mouth open as his saliva drips down from his lips to your tongue. A sigh leaves you when you're finally able to taste him, relaxing your body on the bed as you swallow what he gave you. Minho watches you with a humoured, curious countenance–eyebrows raised and eyes fix on your lips when your tongue licks over them, as if you were chasing the very last trace of his flavour.

Minho didn't even process that your mouth opened again, and he doesn't process that he's already obliging–your chin tilted upwards, eager to taste him once more. The man's body seems to be moving in autopilot along with yours–both minds completely clouded, unable to form any coherent thoughts, making pure desire the only motivation to each of your actions.

You look hauntingly beautiful under him–countenance mostly darkened but your features still striking under the city lights coming from outside. You stared up at him with black, dilated pupils and eyes half open, as if you were trying to look past his consciousness and make home inside the depths of his mind, engraving the memory of tonight onto his brain for as long as you possibly could. Like you wanted him addicted.

Minho's lips clash onto yours, constant moans swallowed by one another as you desperately tried to touch more and more of each other–not a single inch forgotten. He soothes the goosebumps on you skin, hands caressing from your hips to your waist a couple times before his palms find your breasts. Minho feels dizzy when you moan his name, arching your back to seek his warmth.

Eager as always, you roll your hips against his–spread legs allowing your cunt to finally get the slightest friction from his cock. Your vision is blurry and you can't tell when you started tearing up, but the harshness with which Minho was grinding his clothed crotch against your naked cunt was the trigger for the first tear to run down your face. You were sensitive and the pleasure was overwhelming, but you still could feel your pussy fluttering around nothing, needing Minho inside.

"You're making a mess on my jeans, pretty." He mumbles against your mouth.

You struggle to breathe out, "Take them off, then."

Having sex wasn't anything new to you, but having sex with Minho feels like a completely different experience. You don't understand the headspace you're in nor are you able to dwell on what it could be–the only things you can fathom is Minho's warm body pressed up against yours and how safe and comfortable you feel. And how, when he suddenly kneels to take his jeans off, you feel so lonely and vulnerable tears flutter out of yours eyes, reaching for him with a whine of his name.

In a matter of seconds, Minho holds both your hands and comes back to his past position above you, shushing your mindless, whiny whispers with soft kisses all over your face as his thumbs caressed the skin of your hip and your cheek.

"Are you still with me, baby?" He never looked at you the way he is right now. He doesn't look confident, but in awe. Vulnerable. Like he knew this moment was a miracle and that it probably shouldn't happen again, and he, for once in his life, was allowing himself to wear this vulnerability.

You nod, eyes locked into his as you roll your hips, moaning when you feel his hard-on against you. He sighs, his underwear now being the only thing between you two, circling his hips as he asked. "Maybe we should take a break, hm?" His lips find your neck, distracting you from protesting. "Get you some water."

You barely find the strength to whisper "No, Minho, need you to fuck me. Please, I need you so bad."

You swear all the stars fall out of the sky and onto Minho's bed when you finally feel him whole. After a while of teasing you with his tip, he sinks into you with ease, both mouths hanging open in a symphony of loud moans he'd probably get complaints about.

Soft whimpers of his and your own fill the room, you feel fire lingering on each place he touches and Minho swears the universe begins and ends with each lazy, slow stroke of his hips. At this moment, he can't conceptualize the existence of anything else besides him and you. You and your constant, high moans of his name. You and your face contorted in pleasure and your needy, grabby hands. Your wet heat greedily sucking him in, trying to keep him. You and your timid gaze when he entered a room, stuttering over your words, shy smile forcing its way into your clueless lips. You, you, you.

His hands dig marks into your hips, keeping you in place as he moved above you. His thrusts were timed, consistent, and although leisured, you still bounced with each of them–his cock ripping deeper into you. Minho couldn't physically bring himself to stop kissing you–tongue roaming your open mouth, noisy kisses joining the night's soundtrack of moans and the slapping sound of his hips against your ass. 

Minho felt like he ascended closer to heaven each time you moaned his name–nails digging into his shoulder blades in your own way of claiming him. He could see the desperation in your teary eyes, endless begging leaving your wet lips and shaky legs wrapped around him in a weak attempt to keep him close. Your hips, that were once bouncing off of his now lay tired on his mattress, no longer having the strength to meet his thrusts or squirm away from them. Your lips had his spit all over them and it looked like every ounce of your morality left your conciousness with every snap of his hips. Although pretty, you weren’t nearly as gone as he pictured in the times which he fucked his hand to the thought of you–the way you lay under him right now sits very closely to his visions, but Minho is a perfectionist.

"Arch your back for me." He says, although he’s the one to actually pull your waist off the bed, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He shoves a pillow between you and the bed and the angle instantly changes, your insides squeezing his stilled cock. Your eyes are shut tight when he whispers right by your ear, pulling your arms around his neck. “Hold on tight, pretty.”

His hold on you grew impossibly tighter as he whipped his hips against yours–thrusts so deep yet so quick that you could no longer contain the pornographic cries leaving your open mouth. Your existence narrows to nothing but open legs spreading wider for Minho to fuck into as his own narrows into being a mere tool for your pleasure–your entire senses of self were, in that moment, engulfed whole by one another. 

This amount of pleasure is so foreign to your body it completely shuts down when you try to react, utter nonsense leaving your lips when you try to let the man above you know you’d never felt like this before–no one’s ever made you feel like your soul was drifting away from you whilst simultaneously spiking all of your senses so violently, making your skin hot to the touch. You completely miss most of the words leaving his lips, laboured breathing giving away both exhaustion and pleasure.

“A little cockdumb, are you?” He says, his own voice muffled by the constant noise of his hips smacking against you. “My sheets are fucking drenched in you, baby. You take it so fucking good.” 

He's hitting your spot perfectly, the pillow helping him reach even deeper inside you. Minho's pace didn't allow you to breathe for a single second, your pussy desperately clenching around him as you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to explode–it's intensity so intimidating you start involuntarily shaking your head, legs shaking besides Minho's hips and moans getting drawn out, whiny, louder.

Your hips come back to life, stuttering messily when he presses a thumb to your clit–your hands fly to his biceps nails digging on his skin, surely to leave marks of your own.

"Come on, pretty. Gonna come all over my cock, hm? Gonna claim it?"

Claim it. Claim it. Mine, you're mine. If this was anyone else, you'd me embarrassed that that's what pushed you over the edge. But it's Lee Minho, and he just said out loud the one thing you want the most in the entire world, even if it was in a drunken haze.

Your head is numb as your body pushes through your orgasm–pleasure hits your body in violent shockwaves that leave you shuddering, not giving you a second to recover until they hit you again. You're able to tell that Minho's moans got way louder, and the thrusts of his hips now have a squelch to them. It's only after a few seconds you're able to feel the wetness all over your crotch, even reaching up to your hips and belly, due to the force of Minho's thrusts as you squirted.

You feel full, completely satisfied and overly sensitive, but Minho was never not welcome between your legs. So, you lazily drape your arms around the man's neck and pull him towards you–tip of his nose touching yours, hooded eyes fix on hooded eyes. Your mouth is still open for him, moans now quiet but still constant as his thrusts grew erratic. Minho, on the other hand, was being so loud you hoped to God his roommate wasn't over. Not just his moans, but the ferocity of his hips now combined with the wetness made a noise so loud it'd be borderline unbearable to anyone else but you two.

But you really couldn't care less, not when Minho looks like a greek god above you. Perfect eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes burning into yours, every vein on his reddened neck prevalent and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, pouty lips hanging open exposing his–in any other situation– adorable teeth, but now you just wanted him to sink them in your skin.

"So good, so good..." You mindlessly blabber, that was the most you could do for him right now.

"Is it? Yeah? You just showed me how good it feels, ah. Squirting all over my cock, fuck."

"Do I feel good?"

His head drops to your shoulder, burying his face on your neck. "Perfect. Fuck, like you were made for me. Want this pussy all for myself."

"Have it, then." You struggle through moans, "I don't want anyone else, Min."

His hand takes the pillow under your waist and throws it somewhere in the room–snaking one hand under your waist to arch you for him as the other stroke his cock only once, enough to paint your stomach and breasts in his white stripes. Minho is shuddering as he collapses above you, face finding home in your neck again. You feel him shifting over you somewhere in your sleepy state, after a while passes. Your whine in protest makes him chuckle.

"I have to clean you up, angel." You ignore the way your insides turn due to the new petname and pulls his kneeling figure towards you again.

"Stay a little longer."

"A little longer?" He whispers, looking at your lips as he lays above you.

Minho hums when you kiss him, gently cupping your chin and guiding you through it. His tongue was soft, slow and addictive–after him, you can't really picture yourself kissing anyone else.

"I'm gonna talk to your brother." He tries to play it nonchalant, but his eyes are closed and his ears turn pink as he whispers his confessions through peppered kisses across your face.

"Really?" You can't help how hopeful your whisper sounds.

"Yeah, of course." His voice suddenly changes to an annoyed tone, clicking his tongue. "Gonna have a talk with Wooseok, too. Asshole." Your chest flutters with laughter as he curses under his breath, heart beating out of your chest as he kisses your cheekbone, then your jaw, tone suddenly soft again. "Wanna make you mine."

Your eyes flutter shut for a second, an embarrassing attempt to hold back tears. "I already am, Min."

#i read wedding season by ballelino and now pretty is the only petname i can picture minho ever using #lee minho smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x you #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios

[buckyownsmylife]

Memory - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting

A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby​‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.

There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.

She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.

Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.

I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.

I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.

Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.

It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.

A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.

She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.

“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.

“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.

He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”

It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.

It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.

“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.

“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.

“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.

“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.

We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.

“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”

The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.

“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.

“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.

But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.

“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”

And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.

“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.

“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”

Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.

“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.

“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.

“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.

And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.

“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.

“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.

“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.

“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”

A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.

Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.

“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”

I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.

“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.

He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.

I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.

What a mistake.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”

I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.

He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.

“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”

I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.

“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”

That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…

So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.

“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.

“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”

Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.

My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”

The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.

“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”

Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.

“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”

#whispers700challenge #my 2k challenge #my fics #bucky barnes smut #smut #vampire au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction

[boldlyanxious]

In the Dark

Masterlist

Marinette saw Damian headed down the hallway and she quickly turned down the back hallway and slipped into a costume closet. She had already had a long rough day with one of the supporting actresses causing a series of problems that somehow were all Marinette's fault. She did not need to deal with Damian as she was headed out the door. He was arrogant and always found something to complain about and it was usually about her. They had gotten off on the wrong foot and now the only thing she had ever seen him happy about was her being unhappy.

She only planned to be here for a moment but she heard him curse as his footsteps moved past the hallway and then move quickly down into the hall and the closet door opened. She pushed back into the corner hoping whatever he needed was in the front and he wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t imagine what he would need to get from there anyway. He had made it very clear that as the star of the show everyone should be meeting his needs and he had no need to know where to find his costumes or props.

Instead of getting something out of the closet he opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind him. She had no time to shift away or any way to hide that she was in there. She held her breath and backed into the corner. She couldn’t fathom why he had followed her into here anyway. He shifted the costumes and pushed himself right into the corner until he was against her. There was nowhere for her to escape to, she let out a startled squeak as he pressed himself into her.

---

Damian could not stand Cecile. She was vapid and loud. She never had an end to her questions or ideas. She had gotten a good supporting part in the movie, but she was not a lead role for which she constantly complained. He did his best to avoid her off set but she had a habit of showing up everywhere. Honestly the entire movie was a waste and he wished he could get out of his contract. The other lead was fine. They had little interaction outside of the set and she did well with the part. Everyone else on the cast and crew were extremely tiresome with the exception of one costume designer. She was an apprentice and this was her first project on her own but it was overseen by her mentor. She was efficient and had a great eye. She had a hesitancy and stammering manner but she didn’t fawn over him like many of the others did.

Cecilie had been even more insufferable today than usual after catching Damian not listening to her because he got distracted watching the costume designer, Marinette. When Damian heard Cecile loudly talking about how she was looking for him so they could leave together and check out the new tapas place he panicked slightly. He did not want to deal with her anymore so he rushed down the back hallway and through the first door he saw. He pulled the door closed behind himself. He was moving too quickly for the small space. He thought it was an office or workspace but it turned out to be a small closet. A very small closet and it was pretty full of costumes. He tried to halt his movements and remain silent. He ended up right in the corner, or would have if someone was not already occupying it.

The other person made a startled eeep sound and he covered her mouth before they could be discovered. They were silent and listening as Cecile wandered around shouting for Damian. He was so focused on listening for her that he didn’t realize for several moments that his hand was still covering the mouth of the other person. There was no light in the closet so he wasn’t sure who was in here with him, or why. Hopefully they could be persuaded to refrain from mentioning this incident if he offered the right incentive.

---

Marinette was certain the loud sound of her beating heart would give them away. She would probably have been breathing heavier but Damian’s had covered her mouth and his other arm had moved to the back of her head holding her head still. She didn’t dare try to get him to stop. She quickly figured out why he had jumped in here and it had nothing to do with her. She could hear one of the other actresses screeching around looking for him. She couldn’t blame his escape, especially since she had just done the same. Maybe she could convince him that she was also hiding from the odious woman. She was pretty nasty to Marinette and honestly she might have made the same choice if she thought the woman was looking for her.

She could feel every one of his muscles tensed against her as Cecile continued screeching out Damian's name. She would never give him the satisfaction of saying how that made her feel. He had already wanted his distaste at her mentioning anything about how the costume would look on him or display his muscles. She had just been making conversation while getting measurements but he had mistaken her inquiries about the costume's fit and material preferences as trying to make a pass at him. He told her to just do her job and leave her personal opinions out of it so she had just made the best choices she could without his input then or in the future. If he wanted to be a diva she would wait for the complaints.

Marinette shifted in his hold. She was right against his chest but she was still holding herself back into the corner with her arms at her sides. It had been quiet for several minutes when Damian released the pressure from her mouth pulling his hand away. His other hand seemed to release the back of her head slowly, almost threading through her stray hairs. She stayed rigid in the corner and she still remained silent. She didn’t know the protocol for greeting a person you randomly hid in a closet with, maybe she could find a book or a humorous blog post about it. He seemed uninterested in coming up with small talk and simply turned away from her and turned the door handle. Then he twisted it again with the same result. Several more times before he seemed to accept that there was a problem.

---

“It's locked,” he said.

“No, are you sure?”

“If you can manage to open it, be my guest.”

Damian felt the woman shift and he turned so she could reach the door. Same result. It wouldn’t twist. That didn’t stop her from trying several more times and then making an irritated sound before rattling the door against the jamb.

“I’ve left my phone in the dressing room. Use yours to call someone to let us out.”

“My phone is in my office. But great news. I have the keys. Unfortunately the lock is on the other side of the door.”

“That is useless.” he sounded angry. “Why were you in here anyway?”

“This is a costume closet. I have every right to be here.” she said. “You are the one who followed me in and locked the door.”

This gave him the information to place her voice which helped make sense of her having an office instead of a dressing room. He didn't think she would accept any bribery from him to keep quiet but fortunately it was because he didn't think Marinette was the type to talk about any of the cast or crew. He had heard her be asked questions by reporters before and she always expertly sidestepped the questions to focus on aspects to promote the movie or her own work on the costumes.

He wasn't sure how to bring anything up with her. He had his first meeting with her directly after the initial meeting with the cast that has reporters. He had gotten along great with the other lead Amy and her husband at the meeting but that is when he first met Cecilie. He had been very grateful to get away from her for a quiet fitting but on her first day Marinette was distracted and fumbling. He had later found out she hadn't been told to be there at all and had rushed in to get measurements. He had been her first fitting and he was already in a foul mood. Her innocent questioning felt too personal so he scolded her harshly.

---

She released the handle and turned away from the door, bumping into him in the process. He stepped back from her but he was against the wall so he reached out and nudged her away. Marinette stumbled when he pushed her and hit the wall on the other side. She pushed against it to keep herself up. She tried to smooth out the costumes so they would not be damaged in the small space. She felt around trying to think through everything that was located in this closet. She was hoping something would prove useful for their current predicament. She didn’t even realize she was talking quietly to herself until he asked about it.

“What are you muttering about?” he asked.

“I’m trying to inventory the costumes to see if there is anything here that can help us get out of here,” she said.

“I thought you were very professional until I found you hiding in a closet and now muttering to yourself.”

Marinette turned quickly to confront him. How dare he suggest she was the one being unprofessional when he had tried the same thing. She turned on him quickly. Too quickly. She slipped on a piece of fabric when she spun back towards him and stumbled. Her arms flailed out and grabbed for anything to keep her from tumbling. She cringed as she felt herself grasp at the costumes but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She made a series of noises to go along with the sounds of the hangers being yanked to the side.

But then she felt his arms go around her and pull her back to her feet. She latched onto him in an attempt to stay upright but he had lunged too far. She was only on her feet for a split second before he crashed into her and they both fell down into a heap. He was fully on top of her and she twisted to try to get free of his weight. Like a game of Twister she realized her back was on top of one of his arms and her legs were tangled in his.

His chest lifted as he shifted against her. She tried to move again but she could not get her arms under her with his weight on top of her. She froze as his hand moved against her and down the outer part of her skirted side and leg. She pulled away from his hand causing both of them to collapse back down again. His arms pulled her against him tightly as he started twisting. She struggled against him until he told her to stop. She froze again and he flipped them over until he was sitting with his back against the wall with her straddling his lap.

---

Damian was regretting not just letting her fall. He could hear her flailing and reached out without thinking but now they were on the ground tangled together. She seemed to be panicking so he took charge. He felt around a bit to find out how they were tangled before making his move. She was not cooperating with any of his attempts to get them apart. She was doing the exact opposite of what they needed to do to get back to their feet.

“You are making everything worse. Just hold still,” he growled.

Finally she stopped and he was able to lift her to him and turn them both over. Now she was on top of him but they were in a better position to get untangled. His hands were resting at her hips as she moved forward, leaning against his chest. Everything in him told him to wrap his arms around her and keep her close to him but she pushed off and got back to her feet. He was shocked that he missed the feel of her against him. He chose to ignore that and pushed himself to his feet.

She was already back to going through the costumes to find a way out of here. He considered what would have happened if he became locked in a closet with almost any other woman who had been around today. He didn’t think that any of them would be trying very hard to get out. They would probably be trying to find a way to get closer to him.

---

Marinette tried to contain her breathing so Damian would not notice how affected she was. She had to get out of this closet. It was not doing her any good being this close to him. She was shaking remembering the feeling of his body on top of hers and then shifting until she was on his lap, against his chest. She had known he was attractive. That was clearly printed in every magazine that had ever had a photo set of him. But being pressed against his muscles was very different from taking his measurements and checking the fit of his costumes. She just had to remind herself that he hated her.

She had gone through all the costumes on the first row and she hadn’t come up with any brilliant ideas. A couple of the costumes had pins in them that might be used to push into the back of the lock to force the mechanism open but she didn’t think any of them were stored here. She wondered if the hangers could force the handle open. They were pretty sturdy. She moved back to check the costumes to decide which ones would be least harmed by not being on a hanger for a bit. She found 3 that should work and so she went through the process of removing them.

---

“You’ve had an idea,” Damian said.

He had taken a moment to calm himself after he stood back up but suddenly her movements felt feverish and hurried. He could tell she was working on some sort of plan even without being able to see her.

“I’m getting hangers. I think they could be used as a lever to force the handle open.”

“That sounds possible. How can I help?”

“I think it will have to be you doing all of the work. I’m not tall enough to put the pressure in the right spot.”

Damian reached out for her to get the hanger. Her hand pulled back suddenly when their fingers touched. He wasn’t sure how to react to that. He wasn’t one to be overly touchy and definitely not pushy about the feelings he thought might be developing but it was unexpected. Before he had time to consider further she had pushed it back and it poked into his chest and he was able to get it from her.

He reached out for the door handle and settled the hanger over it to apply the pressure. It was very tight and he could feel the handle turning but when he added a bit more pressure the handle snapped. He cursed while Marinette checked to see if it had opened. She made a disappointed noise and handed him the next hanger. Possibly he was a bit too frustrated because it snapped almost immediately. The broken wood jammed into his forearm. Marinette tried to pull his arm into the thin strip of light coming under the door.

“I don’t think it broke the skin but it will probably have scratches or bruising.”

He made a noncommittal noise and tried not to focus on her fingers gliding along his skin. It didn’t even hurt that bad any more. It had just been a sudden pain. But he found he liked being the target of her concern. He reached out to stop her fingers on his arm. She sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact and pulled back. He could practically feel her shake herself out of a daze. They were too close to hide much of anything in here. He just wasn’t sure if she was reacting to his touch in a good way or just trying to get away from him.

He instead focused on getting them out of there.

---

Marinette jumped when Damian grabbed her hand from his injured arm. She had completely lost all thought about what she was doing. He had never given her any sign that he wanted her to continue touching him beyond the initial check of his injury. Luckily he could not see her face heat up in the dark. She pulled away quickly so he wouldn’t notice how much she just wanted to hold onto his hand. His focus had returned to the door handle so that is where she would focus too. She was too quiet for him to hear her stammering apologies but just handed off the final hanger she had gotten. She could tell the difference with this attempt immediately. The handle was making a noise as it turned and Damian was adjusting it as it moved so the hanger wouldn’t snap.

Then just like that, the handle fell to the ground with a clatter. Marinette couldn’t contain her excitement. She laughed with joy and grabbed Damian and pulled him into a tight hug. She hardly even noticed that he was hugging her back because she was bouncing around. She didn’t notice until the hug didn’t end when she expected. She tended to be a hugger so she was accustomed to pulling back when the other person pulled back but after the excited feeling was washing away she started to step back only to realize that he was still holding on. His head tilted into the crook of her neck before with one final squeeze he slid away slowly. Marinette had to hold onto the wall for a moment when he released because her knees were suddenly too weak to hold her up.

---

Damian held her in his arms and wished the feeling could never end. He didn’t often hug people. He rarely enjoyed it when he did, aside from a few close family members and friends. But holding Marinette in his arms just felt right. She fit against him. He could feel her pulling back but they were about to be out of the space and he may never be close to her like this again. He tightened his hold for just a second before releasing her slowly. He hoped she couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating just now or that she would not tell everyone how he gave awkward long hugs. He squared his shoulders and pushed against the door.

The door didn’t just push open so he looked at the mechanism stuck in the handle hole. He pushed on the tab and it did nothing. The locked handle was still stuck on the outside and it wouldn’t budge. It was fastened on with screws. Marinette had picked up the handle and tried to get it to connect to the piece but it wasn’t working. Damian didn’t think that would help anyway but she was clearly in distress.

“Is there a screw to use to push in the pin hole?” Damian asked.

“No. There are no screws on this side. It was connected with threads to connect to the other piece of the handle.”

“Where is the hanger? I can use the piece that holds it to apply pressure.”

Marinette handed him one of the hangers.

“I don’t think that will work. The hanger doesn’t have the piece like that. They connect directly onto the rack so the costumes are less likely to fall and be damaged, especially during shipping or when people get locked into the closet and stuck for all eternity.”

Damian started to laugh at her joke but then he realized she wasn’t actually joking. She was breathing heavily and was backed against the wall.

---

Marinette didn’t know what else to do. They had tried everything and they couldn’t get out. No one else would be there for hours. She held onto the wall and while her head was spinning. At least Damian couldn’t see her acting so foolishly. She bit her lip to control her breathing and hot tears ran down her cheeks. She could hear Damian moving but even with another beam of light shining in she still couldn’t see what he was doing. Maybe it was good that he hadn’t given up yet. It wouldn’t be great to have them both breaking down at the same time.

But Damian had not stopped at the door. He was right there in front of her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and she just knew that he could feel the wet spot where her tears had dripped down. She felt the fingers on his other hand on her cheek, gently wiping away her tears. She couldn’t hold in a sob at his tenderness. She covered her face with her hands but he didn’t let that stop him. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

---

Damian was not the first person anyone would go to when they were in distress but in this case he was the only one available. He made gentle hushing noises and smoothed her hair back from her face. He breathing had calmed but she was crying into her hands. She was struggling to get some distance so he could hear what she was saying. He caught just the last bit through her muffled tears.

“I’m crying all over your shirt,” she said.

“Don’t worry about my clothes. They will be fine,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m just not a huge fan of small spaces.”

He brushed the last of her tears from her cheeks. Her breathing was calmer now and he wasn’t sure what suddenly came over him. His hand was on her jaw and he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He could feel her gasp against his lips but he realized she had stayed rigid and not melted against him. She wasn't kissing him. He had kissed her while she was against a wall trapped with him in a small closet. He stumbled back from her.

---

Marinette was so distraught about being such a mess in front of him it took her a moment to process what had happened. He had just kissed her. He seemed just as shocked as her when he pulled away. She didn’t think he had planned it. She didn’t even think he could stand her. She could still feel him standing right in front of her. Not that he had many options for where to go. His hands dropped from her and they just stood there, inches apart for a moment.

He turned back to the door and tried to mess with the lock again. She could see his face in the light coming from the hole in the door. Two separate strands of light hit his face. She could see the tenseness in his cheekbone that she imagined moved down to his jaw. The other was shining directly on his lips. She touched her own remembering the feel of his on hers.

She could feel his bicep tense as she reached out and touched him. She had to force herself to breathe. He didn't pull away but he reserved any reaction waiting to see what she would do. She knelt down next to him and slid her hand up to his shoulder. If possible he tensed even more. She reached up with her other hand and tentatively touched his jaw. She could feel the bit of rugged stubble required for the scene today. It was much softer than she had imagined.

---

Damian didn't think he quite stopped the groan that came out as her fingers brushed along his jaw. He generally preferred clean shaven but as her fingers continued to move through his stubble he was gaining an appreciation for it. He moved slowly as her second hand moved up to his jaw. She seemed over the shock of being kissed against the wall while crying but he wanted to wait for her to make a move. It was torturously slow. She was being cautious too. But he felt her body shift and then her thumb brushed along his bottom lip.

Her lips met his as she leaned forward. Her hesitancy vanished when he responded. His hand moved back to her hair where it had been when he first entered the closet and covered her mouth. She pushed herself against him from her knees but he craved her closer. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his lap. She planned a knee on either side of his hip and wrapped her arms around his neck. He kept one arm around her waist and one threading through her hair as it cascaded out of the bun.

Damian wasn't sure how much time had passed. They had pulled away for air several times and shifted positions as well. Marinette's hair was fully down from her previous hair do and her clothing looked delightfully wrinkled when the door opened and light poured in. He watched her squint at the sudden brightness. He must look something like her. Her chest was heaving and her lips red and puffy. He was tempted to shut the door again and stay hidden with her longer.

---

Marinette was dazed when the door suddenly opened and poured light over them. Her eyes were shocked at the amount of light too quickly. She knew the person who opened the door could clearly tell what they had been doing. She looked away from the man's smirk and down at the floor. She glanced back up at Damian. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his shirt was untucked. He stood and reached to pull her to her feet. She noticed a couple buttons undone at the top of his shirt. She suddenly wondered about the buttons on her own blouse and turned away to fix them.

"Jon, it's great to see you. How did you know to look for us?"

"Your brother called and said you missed dinner and wouldn't answer your phone. I sent a video of a baby elephant being cute and you didn't react so I knew something had to be wrong," Jon said.

"We have been locked in here for hours. No phone or tools and the handle was broken."

"Sounds," Jon cleared his throat, "rough."

Marinette wasn't making eye contact. She had readjusted her clothes and pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She couldn't avoid the awkwardness anymore. She stepped into the hallway and both men looked at her. She opened her mouth but realized she had nothing to say. She turned on her heels quickly and started to rush away. Her cheeks were burning and she thought she might start crying again.

What had she been thinking? There were all sorts of rumors about what kind of man Damian might be. It was widely thought that he remained single so he could hook up with women from all over and pay them for their silence. There had been all a lot of suggestions about who he might secretly be involved with but there had never been a confirmed relationship. She just knew things at work would end up very awkward if anyone found out. Both her and Damian were professional so perhaps they could manage to hide the awkwardness until the end of the project and then never see each other again.

"Marinette?" Damian's voice was quiet and he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Would you like to go to dinner tonight? I need to freshen up a bit but I imagine you are as hungry as I am."

He sounded so uncertain. She wondered what he was thinking. Everything felt perfect when they were alone but in the sudden light and openness they were uncertain again.

"I'd like that," she said.

They both took a few minutes making themselves presentable and gathering their things. Marinette was happy she wouldn't have to catch the late night subway. Damian introduced his friend Jon and said he would keep everything about the incident to himself. She was grateful for that and for him waiting on the introduction until she had fixed her appearance. His hand hovered at her back at they walked out. Jon excused himself and left them alone as they got in the car.

Marinette buckled her seatbelt in silence. When she looked over Damian hadn't started the car. He was watching her. When she looked at him he leaned towards her. She met his lips as they gently brushed against each hers. Her heart was suddenly pounding again.

"I was aching to do that again," he said.

He turned back and started the car to take her on their first date.

Taglist

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna

#maribat #daminette #actor au #trapped #boldlyanxious

[symphonyofthewrite]

Saw your post, getting stuff off your chest, I just wanted to say that I haven't seen the thing with the kids mentioned by anyone and it really stood out to me, I feel what you mean to some extent, because for me it was a stronger reaction, albeit you probably won't feel the same and that's, obviously, perfectly fine. I have an instant recoil these days whenever a character is around kids for like one second and everyone instantly goes "THEY LITERALLY ADOPTED THEM/THAT'S THEIR CHILD/THEY'RE A PARENT"... genuinely sick of it, and I went white as a sheet when I heard it, I wanted to pluck my eyes out. I don't know if it's an American thing but English speaking fandoms (well, those teeming with fancops that is) seem like they cannot process adult looking characters being in any near proximity to childlike characters without automatically imposing parenthood and family dynamics and it's becoming distressing to me. I feel like Alucard needed to process his trauma and learn to trust and be whole again, he's young himself too, why he needed to be a "father figure" all of a sudden is beyond me.

Thank you so much for the ask!! I don’t get many asks so it makes me happy when I can talk meta with people 💛💛 (Sorry I’m a bit late in answering.)

Funnily enough I actually do agree with you. I didn’t have quite so strong a reaction, but I definitely had a very similar one when I first hear it.

My feelings were and are a bit mixed. I was saying in my other post that I would have preferred that I got to actually see this interaction; see the kids run by him and call him father, and him smile when no ones looking. I still think that would have been a better, more touching way to do the scene, and would have had more chance of me liking it (though I probably still would have felt very weird about it). (I think it especially would have been better because it would show that Alucard himself liked it, not that Greta was forcing the role on him.) I know that it was meant to be something touching, and pretty much everyone seems to like it (and I have seen some cute posts about it), so I just tried to like it too, and focus on the fact that all they were really trying to say was he was having a nice relationship with the kids, and that was indeed sweet.

But yeah, when I heard Greta say “I heard some of them calling you father” for me it was less a reaction of horror, and more a “HUH??!!”moment. When I heard it I was like “Alucard...you agree with this???!! This is how you see yourself??!!” I almost expected Alucard to refute it and say he didn’t see himself as a father to them. Like I seriously do not see Alucard as anything remotely close to a father figure, and it felt weird and wrong to me.

Like when I saw him interacting with the kids the first time, I didn’t think “oh he’s a father figure to them.” I just thought “yay, Alucard’s playing with some kids, and getting out of his bubble!!” I didn’t have any thoughts as to what his relationship role was with them, I just thought that first interaction was lovely.

And if I saw him interacting with the kids again, I still wouldn’t go “father figure” I’d just be like “yay, Alucard’s playing with the kids again, how sweet!!”

Sometimes the relationship doesn’t need a role or a label, ya know?

And I thought it was especially strange because…he literally just met them?? Like how can they possibly start calling him father when he’s played with them once or twice? Regardless of Alucard’s side or things, what group of kids would randomly call a nice man they just met ‘father’? Is...Is this a normal thing??

Anyways, back to Alucard’s side of things, Sypha’s line about Alucard being a teenager trapped an adults body has always been something that stuck with me and shaped how I view Alucard. I definitely view him as internally much younger than he looks. No matter how much I might hate them for what they did to him, I think Sumi and Take are about the age he actually is, and their relationship with him made sense to me. He’s still a kid—or at least young—he still needs his parents in his life, really. (That’s part of why I didn’t like that Drac and Lisa don’t go to him at the end. I personally don’t think Alucard really got closure, and in my mind I think he still very much needed them, and that would have been the perfect ending to his story in my mind, where everything comes full circle; He was forced to lose his parents and grow up too early, and only when he’s started to truly grow up does he get them back.) So yeah, I really don’t see him like a father at all. One of my main focuses in my Castlevania fanfiction is his relationship with Dracula, so I very much see him as the son, not as the dad, even when Drac isn’t around.

(Sidenote, come to think of it, I think this is another reason why Greta x Alucard is a nope from me. She’s very much an adult, so I just see a discrepancy between them that makes me feel weird about them being in a romantic relationship. If we need a label I feel like she fits as an older sister for him, guiding him and giving him support. Him unloading all his problems on her within just meeting her makes more sense if he’s like a younger brother who needs to cry to his sister. I felt weird about it in a romantic context when it was so fast. I mean I know he was desperate to talk to someone, and I probably would have done the same, but still).

“I feel like Alucard needed to process his trauma and learn to trust and be whole again, he's young himself too, why he needed to be a "father figure" all of a sudden is beyond me”

^^ THIS. EXACTLY THIS.

I was honestly really hoping they’d go in depth into him dealing with his trauma, and how he’s still hurting from the wounds of it, and how he needs to heal. I thought that’s what his S4 arc would be about. I don’t think they gave him the chance to really process and work through everything that happened. (Again, I don’t think him just unloading all his problems on a nice stranger is truly working through his trauma. I would have much rather watched him struggle to trust her, and him telling her about his trauma happen later, and be difficult for him, and a deep, heartfelt moment).

Like I was saying in my other post, I think if they framed his arc in how he dealt with the town collectively, I think that would have fit better, and been more touching and satisfying. I would have liked to see him struggling to trust humans, and then see as time progressed how several different people in the town liked him and meant him no harm, and how he realized he could trust them, and that he liked them too. It wasn’t that he had a bad romantic partner and needed a new one. He believed he needed to be punished for killing his father, and in his deep loneliness he let these kids into his house and heart, and they turned on him because he was half vampire. That’s something pretty deeply ingrained, and not something a new romance just fixes by existing. He needed to work through that in a much deeper way.

I know this is gonna be a very unpopular opinion, and it's totally cool if you disagree, but in a weird way... I sort of disliked Alucard’s ending. Don’t get me wrong, Im glad he’s happy, and I’d certainly prefer it to him just getting more trauma like last season (*shudders*), and I don’t think him opening up his castle (and his heart) to humanity is a bad way to end his story, certainly not. I think that fits. And my heart did melt a bit at the "I'm weirdly happy" scene. But, where everyone else is like “*sobbing* happy endings for all our faves” ...I see the creators of the show trying to wrap everything up in a neat little bow, and while that’s certainly not all bad, I don’t love every aspect of that. Theres a time and place for that, but a show based on video games, for which there’s more content in these storylines isn’t one of them in my mind.

Sometimes some of the sadness needs to linger. At the very least, let it linger at the beginning of the season so you can work through it in a powerful way, you know? It may have been tough to see Alucard be more closed off, but I think it would have been more satisfying to see him open up his heart and go back to his old self if we saw his trauma leave lingering effects at the beginning.

To me it didn’t feel like a satisfying arc, it felt like the fairytale ending of “oh look he’s not apprehensive about humanity even after what happened! Oh look he got the girl! And the Castle’s a happy place now! Look he’s not sad anymore! He’s even a father figure to these kids! He’s totally moved on!” And all those things can be awesome when done properly, and when they have depth to them. But they didn’t work through the trauma to get there, so it felt surface level to me, and too fast. I really liked that first episode, and how we saw the two sides of him—one that's become more closed off, and the other that still buries the human despite his comments—and I also really liked the first interaction with the kids, and thought that was one of the few interactions that had depth to it and fit with his arc well. Having it go beyond “they’re helping him learn to like and trust humanity again, and displaying who he really is inside” ended up detracting from the power of his relationship with them in my mind.

Having played SOTN, I think an ingrained loneliness and sadness are, in a way, a key part of Alucard’s character. That sounds really sad and awful out loud but…there are some people that just have a sadness or a loneliness to them, and that's not entirely bad. Here’s the thing…it can make them that much more beautiful. The fact that they still fight for good, even when they see all the dark, those moments when they find true friends, despite how alone they are, those moments when they are happy, are so much more powerful. They just are always a bit…separate from other people. One of my favorite lines in anything is the line "We are connected by our darkness, not by our light" in Pandora Hearts. I think it's a line that fits Alucard well, and it’s always something that’s drawn me personally to him. Don't get me wrong, I don’t think Alucard’s all dark and sad and lonely, he’s definitely got a bright side to him too, of course he does. But I also don't think he ever is able to fully accept the vampire side of himself, and I find that interesting, and worth exploring. Personally I was honestly hoping for the show makers to come up with a bittersweet reason for why he went to sleep for 300 years, (and I thought that's why they set things up with Sumi and Taka that he’d have something against his vampire nature). Personally it felt like they were trying to say “oh he’s all better now, he’ll never be sad or lonely again” and while that’s nice I suppose…for me it sort of…stops feeling like Alucard, in a way? I don't know if I'm explaining it right, or if that sounds terrible...😅

Anyways, back to the topic at hand. I do agree that’s very common of fandom that people are like “boom! Just add water! Instant father figure!” and I don’t love it either. Sometimes it can be cute if it truly fits, but it doesn’t fit every relationship between an adult-looking character and a kid character, and shouldn't be the first place people go to. In the same way every relationship doesn’t have to be romantic, not every relationship has to be parental/familial either. Sometimes it feels like fandom culture isn't really okay to have some characters just be good friends. A good friendship can be more wonderful than a romance sometimes.

If we have to put a label on it, I think he seemed like a nice older brother figure to them? I think that fits who he is in my mind. But father? Nope. Not for me. And again, I don’t think it needs a label.

Thanks again for sending me this ask!! It was nice to get the chance to work through some more of my feelings here too. Sorry if I went too overboard. And I hope I don’t sound too terribly negative, it really was a great season, and I definitely liked some parts of his arc, just not all of it.

If you or anyone else reading would like to discuss with me more, be my guest!! 💕

#alucard #castlevania #castlevania season four #castlevania s4 #castlevania s4 spoilers #castlevania season 4 #castlevania netflix #Adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #Greta #greta castlevania #castlevania alucard #alucard castlevania #castlevania Greta #netflix castlevania #castlevania meta #castlevania spoilers #castlevania anime #asks #Castlevania asks #alucard meta #alucard asks

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 22

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry this took forever. Life has been strange (as I’m sure you’re all well aware). I have so appreciated hearing from all of you, and I’m sorry for the torture I put you through. So, I won’t keep you any longer. Without further ado... Enjoy! 

Harsh daylight pierces through Rowan’s eyelids, and he groans and buries his nose into his pillow, feeling exhausted. He has barely slept a few hours, and already his body is waking him up, ruining the paltry amount of rest he was able to get. He’s surprised when his pillow sighs softly and twitches beneath his extended arm. Some time during his limited sleep, Rowan has returned to his default place; wrapped around Aelin. For a brief second, he forgets that anything is amiss as he breathes her in. But when she moves beneath him again, it all comes rushing back, and he feels like there’s an arrow piercing through his chest.

He stiffens and pulls his arm back slowly, not wanting to wake her. He holds his breath, hoping she remains asleep as he extracts himself from the bed. The starched sheets crinkle loudly under his movements, and he listens nervously for Aelin’s breath to change. He’s relieved when she stays unmoving, and he creeps into the bathroom to shower and change into his clothes, needing a few more minutes alone before being forced to deal with her pitying gaze again. He’s never felt so small or pathetic.

The shower does nothing to lift his mood – the soft trickle of water barely able to cover his body as he tries to wash Aelin’s soap from his skin. He knew he should have brought his own toiletries, but she insisted it was more practical to share. Now he’ll have to smell like her the whole fucking day on top of everything else. He scrubs his skin roughly, turning it red, trying to claw out of his own body. But it’s useless. He’s stuck there.

When he makes his way back out to the room, Aelin is awake, pulling her rumpled hair up into a messy bun. She turns when she hears him, and his entire body freezes upon locking eyes with her. She looks like she’s about to open her mouth, but Rowan isn’t ready to hear anything else she has to say right now. Unless it’s – I love you, too. And he has a feeling it’s not. He gives her a stiff nod, dismissing her, and averts his eyes, the crunch of the carpet deafening as he steps across.

She takes the hint and goes into the bathroom without instigating any conversation, and Rowan releases a shaky breath. At the sound of the shower turning on, he gathers his few things and clears out of the room.

The bus is already waiting in the driveway, though no one but the driver is on it yet. Rowan doesn’t care – he’s grateful for the silence. He takes the first seat and leans his head against the cool glass, letting his eyes close again.

He doesn’t open them again until the bus starts to fill up. The excited chatter from his coworkers drains him further, pushing him into an even worse mood. Their happiness has never made him feel more alone. He’d been looking forward to this weekend for so long, and now he’s thinking about the quickest way to make an escape. He wonders if he could fake an emergency sickness and get out of the day. But he knows he has to stick it out and be braver than that. If only he could erect walls fast enough, thick enough, to keep her warm gaze and soft laughter out of his head. He stares out the window, his head tilted away from the aisle, so as not to inadvertently make eye contact with someone he’d rather not. He exudes a – stay the fuck away from me – vibe, which he’s grateful everyone picks up on, and the seat next to him remains blissfully empty.

He focuses on his breath as Aelin and Elide pass him. He smells Aelin’s soap on her freshly showered skin, and it takes everything in him not to turn his head toward her. But he keeps his gaze firmly rooted out the window. He doesn’t need to see how beautiful she looks this morning, and he definitely doesn’t want to see her smiling with Elide, pretending like everything is fine. He’s not ready yet.

Lorcan gets everyone’s attention and explains the day to them. Rowan looks up at the man, catches one glimpse of his twinkling eyes and buoyant smile, and has to look away. It seems like he and Elide didn’t let their shoddy location ruin their plans. Lorcan’s happiness is blinding, and Rowan hates the way his stomach churns with jealousy.

“Rough night?” Lorcan says with a small chuckle as he takes the empty seat beside Rowan, and Rowan grunts his response. “Didn’t get much sleep?” Lorcan prods, and Rowan simply nods, not wanting his voice to break and give him away. Lorcan is too happy to notice, though. “Me neither,” he says with a wide smile, oblivious to Rowan’s despair. Lorcan slaps Rowan’s knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll get some coffee in you, and you’ll be good as new.”

Rowan forces a smile in return, wishing that were true. If only caffeine could fix a broken heart.

The drive to the lodge is far too short, and they get off and are greeted by their retreat leaders, Petrah and Imogen – an elderly lesbian hippie couple with long unruly hair and tie-dyed t-shirts and tevas. Petrah shows them to their breakfast spread, an incredible buffet that overlooks the shimmering lake. She encourages them to eat their fill because it’s going to be a long (but fun!) day.

Rowan wishes he were feeling better, because he would photograph the shit out of this place. The sun reflects off the smooth surface of the lake, glinting gold across the deep blue-green expanse. It reminds him of Aelin’s eyes. He sighs and grabs some scrambled eggs and half a bagel, avoiding the sugary pastries he know will make him feel ill if he tries to eat right now. As it is, he can barely shovel a few bites of eggs into his mouth before he starts feeling nauseous.

The cloying smell of icing and sugar hits his nose as someone takes a seat next to him. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is. Every time she’s around him, his skin starts to prickle and his heart starts to race. Rowan takes a long sip of his coffee and keeps his eyes trained on the scenery in front of him. He takes in the clear blue skies scattered with puffy white clouds, and the pine trees dotting the banks of the lake, looking like a Bob Ross painting – lush and happy. He manages to finish his entire bagel, somehow, despite the feeling of Aelin only a few inches away. He’s grateful for the silence, despite her proximity, because he’s not sure what he would say to her. Or what she would say to him. He needs more time to lick his wounds, preferably without her sticking her fingers into them, making him bleed out slowly. He’s about to stand and throw away his plate when she breaks the silence.

“Are you really just not going to talk to me anymore?” she whispers, her voice low, and Rowan finally looks over at her.

She looks just as tired as he feels, dark circles prominent beneath her eyes as she brings her mug of coffee to her lips. Her hair is down, still half-wet from her morning shower, and her tanned skin is on display in a white tank top and jean shorts. He watches her fingers grasp at the necklace hanging at her chest, needing something to fiddle with as she looks at him nervously. Her brows are furrowed, waiting for his reply, and he hates the way his heart thuds in his chest just from looking at her.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” he finally replies. He knows he should bite his tongue and leave it at that, but he can’t resist pushing, reminding her of why this is all happening. “You didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”

Aelin’s lips tug down as she swallows her coffee. She stares at the pastry on her plate, frowning.

“I thought…” she begins and sighs deeply, twisting her necklace around her fingers again. “I thought,” she repeats herself, a large crinkle forming in her forehead as she attempts to say something. “I thought we’d still be friends,” she finally says and looks over at him, her blue-gold eyes stormy with emotion, and it pains Rowan to see it. He hates that he has to be cruel to make her stay away, but he suddenly feels like he’ll suffocate if she keeps looking at him like that.

“You thought wrong,” Rowan snaps, just wanting her to leave him alone to his misery. He has no interest in being Aelin’s friend. He’s never been Aelin’s friends. They’ve fucked and fought, but they’ve never been friends. Not really. They really skipped over the friend part of friends with benefits. This is what he gets in return.

Aelin opens her mouth and closes it again. He watches as fury burns in her eyes, the cold blue melting into molten gold.

“I didn’t peg you for an asshole,” she says, and Rowan has to laugh at that. His laugh is loud and hearty, and it surprises Aelin, whose eyes widen.

“I’m not an asshole, Aelin,” Rowan laughs again. “I’m a sad sap, who got sucked into some pretty rich girl’s orbit and was told he wasn’t good enough to stay there.”

He stands, not wanting to watch the guilt flash across Aelin’s face. It doesn’t escape his notice that she doesn’t refute his statement, though. Not that she could. He walks away, and she doesn’t follow. She simply sits, staring out at the water, completely still. It gives Rowan a moment to breathe. But just barely. Because the day is starting, and he fears he won’t be able to escape her.

They split into smaller groups for their hike – randomly selected as they count off by six. Rowan is relieved when he somehow manages to avoid being in the same group as Aelin. He can’t be around her right now. He needs space to clear his head. And nothing clears his head as well as physical activity does.

The hike is less grueling than he wants it to be, but it’s a fairly steady incline for a solid two hours. So, Rowan pushes himself, staying with the group leader – a young woman named Rhiannon – maintaining their swift pace up the mountain. As he walks, Rowan tries his very hardest to silence the angry thoughts pushing at the sides of his consciousness, begging to be listened to, but it’s impossible. All he can hear is his own berating voice telling him how inadequate he is, how of course Aelin wouldn’t want to be with him. Why would she? He’s a loser. A nobody who’ll amount to nothing, despite his greatest wishes to do something with his life. His own father didn’t even love him enough to stick around, how could he have been stupid enough to think Aelin would feel something for him?

Rowan pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead and tries not to let that thought choke him. It’s the one that’s buried deepest inside him, under layers and layers of thick skin and avoidance, and the only way he can function is if it stays there.

His head pounds, so he takes a seat on a nearby rock while he waits for the rest of his group to catch up with him. He barely has a few minutes to collect himself before they’re walking across the mountain peak. Rhiannon explains the history of the mountain and its lore, but Rowan catches sight of Aelin ahead of him and stops listening.

It turns out he should have listened because it becomes clear that his group is combining with Aelin’s for the rest of the day. They’re going to complete a team building ropes course together. Of course. So much for avoidance.

Aelin’s group leader, a skinny, nerdy looking guy named Ravi, leads them to their first ropes activity – a tall pole they’ll have to climb up, and then cross an unsteady bridge, made of floating planks. Once they all cross that, they’ll have nine more “challenges,” he explains, until they reach the final one – a zip line, which will bring them down to the bottom of the mountain. He holds up a harnesses and explains how to put it on, using Rhiannon as his model, pulling each of the flaps tight.

“These harnesses are what’s going to keep you safe all day,” he holds it out for everyone to see, “So, after putting it on, grab a friend to test it and make sure it’s completely secure.” He tugs at the harness around Rhiannon’s waist, motioning everyone to follow.

Rowan grabs a harness and climbs into it, pulling the legs tight and then the waist. He knows he needs to find someone to test it, and his eyes inadvertently seek out Aelin’s. She’s just stepped into hers too. He briefly considers walking to her when he’s interrupted by a short blonde, who he’s sure he’s worked with at some point, but he struggles to remember her name.  

“Hey, Rowan,” she starts, her voice high, almost as if she’s purposefully talking like a small child. “Mind checking for me?”

She pulls her loose top up to reveal her pale skin, and bunches it in one hand. She looks up expectantly at Rowan with wide blue eyes, and Rowan has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her overzealous blinking. He’s sure she’s trying to bat her eyelashes or something, but it really just looks like she’s gotten something in her eye.

He gives her harness a quick tug. It stays, and so he takes a large step back. But the girl doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I can check yours, too,” she says, and without a second thought, shoves her hand under his harness, grazing Rowan’s crotch as she goes. She takes a step closer and places her other hand against Rowan’s stomach. He cringes away from her, trying to escape, but he finds himself trapped. “Why haven’t we hung out this summer?” she asks, and Rowan, as politely as he can manage, removes her hands from him and takes another step back. The girl pouts, clearly unhappy with Rowan’s reaction. But as his eyes lift, he can’t help but smile.

Completely unaware, over the girl’s shoulder, Aelin glares, her eyes practically lighting a trail of fire to where they stand.

“Remelle!” she calls out, far too loudly, given how close she’s standing. Remelle, right.

Remelle turns away from Rowan, annoyed, to see who’s calling her name, and frowns upon seeing Aelin approaching.

“Think you could check me?” Aelin asks, her eyes dancing dangerously as they flicker between Remelle and Rowan.

“We’re kind of actually in the middle of something—” Remelle replies, and Aelin’s eyes flash with fury again.

“Really?” Aelin asks, and Remelle makes the grave mistake of nodding. Aelin stops when she’s immediately in front of the girl and smirks. “Cause it kind of looked like you were making Rowan really uncomfortable with your unwanted advances.”

Remelle’s jaw drops, and Rowan has to bite back another laugh at Aelin’s sheer audacity. Remelle juts her chin out as she motions to Rowan.

“I think he can speak for himself. Can’t you, Rowan?” Her voice is cloyingly sweet, and Rowan struggles not to shudder. Instead, he rubs at his chin, grateful for Aelin’s intervention.

“No, she pretty much said it.”

Remelle huffs and walks off, swishing her hips from side to side exaggeratedly. Aelin and Rowan laugh simultaneously at the display, but when their eyes meet, Rowan’s smile falls again, remembering he’s supposed to be staying away from this girl who twists him into knots without a second thought.

Still, when she takes a step forward, he dutifully tugs at the harness around her waist. His knuckles brush against the soft skin of her stomach, which is exposed underneath the short hem of her tank top.

He stills when she places her hand atop his and gives him a sad look. “Rowan…”

The pain in her voice shakes him out of whatever trance she’s placed him under, and he removes his hand quickly. “You’re good,” he says roughly.

She clasps her hands in front of her waist and sighs softly. “Rowan, I’m—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry,” he rushes out in a breath, and she nods tightly. “I need some space.” And he does. He can’t bear this closeness. It hurts way too much. He knows he’ll just keeping getting pulled in over and over, and he made a stand last night. He finally stood up for himself and his feelings, and he needs to keep that boundary secure. It’s the only way he’ll be able to live with himself. She nods again, but she can’t hold herself back from replying.

“I leave in a week,” she says softly. “How much space are you going to need?”

“I don’t know,” Rowan says. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Aelin nods, and Rowan is relieved when Ravi calls the first person to come forward and start the course, directing everyone’s attention to the tall beam.

Surprisingly, Rowan is able to concentrate on each ropes challenge, and is actually good at them. He crosses the unsteady bridge with ease, is used as the anchor for their giant ladder, hoists everyone up and over the cargo net, scoots up the fallen log beam, and glides across the single line bridge with ease. He impresses even himself, and by the end of the day his body is sore from effort and his skin is slick with sweat from exertion, but he feels better. The crisp mountain air feels cool against his skin as they make their way to the final platform.

Ravi clips his harness to the carabiner, and gives Rowan a large push. He zooms down the side of the mountain, the zip line giving him the best view of the giant peak and mountain in the distance. As Rowan speeds down, the air rushing across his face, he has a moment of clarity  -- that he’s going to be okay. He has to be. He’s survived much worse than a broken heart.

By the time he’s back on the bus, Rowan feels oddly lighter. He dozes most of the ride back to Terrasen, and he’s surprised when the bus pulls to a stop in the Playland parking lot.

It’s already dark as they pile out of the bus and make their way back to their cars. As Rowan reaches his truck, he hears Aelin’s voice calling out for him.

“Rowan, wait,” she pants.

Rowan turns and steps closer to her. He can see her throat bob as she swallows, readying herself to say something he’s sure is going to wound him to his core, so he stops her. Rowan needs to say something first.

“Chaol once told me that once you fall in love with Aelin Ashryver, you never stop.” He recalls the conversation with a wistful smile.

“He said that?” she says, and Rowan nods thoughtfully.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, Aelin,” he says, his voice tight with a sudden frog in his throat. “And I need time to deal with that.” Rowan breathes deeply. “So, unless you suddenly change your mind about me, I think we probably shouldn’t talk.”

Aelin’s breath stutters as she looks at him. “But I’ll see you at the park, right?”

“Yes,” Rowan nods slowly, and he’s shocked to see Aelin’s eyes fill with unshed tears.

“And I can say goodbye to you before I leave on Saturday?” she asks. As she blinks, waiting, a small tear escapes her eye, but she swipes it away before Rowan can question if it was even there at all.

“I don’t think so,” he says, and Aelin rubs at her eye again. Rowan’s chest aches. “Goodbye, Aelin,” he says.

He’s about to step away and into his truck when her arms latch around his neck and she flings her body at his. She presses her face against his chest, and he lets his lips skim across the top of her hair. Her hands clutch at his neckline, and he allows himself a tight squeeze around her waist as he inhales her floral scent one last time.

“Bye, Rowan,” she mumbles into his shirt. And before he can say anything else, she’s gone, disappearing into the dark.

When Rowan arrives home, Manon takes one look at his face and stands from the couch. “I’ll get the whiskey,” she says, and Rowan waves her off.

“I don’t need whiskey.” His voice finally cracks under the weight of the sadness he’s been pushing down for the last twenty-four hours, and his eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, Rowan.” Manon tuts with her tongue. “She’s an idiot.”

“No,” Rowan shakes his head. “I am.”

He collapses onto the couch and tilts his head back. He can feel his eyes burn with unshed tears. The couch sinks beneath Manon’s weight, and Rowan falls across her lap easily as she tugs his arm toward her.

“You can’t tell anyone that I cried,” Rowan stutters as the tears finally drip down his face and onto the thick fabric of Manon’s ripped jeans. She smooths his hair out of his face, running her long nails across his scalp, petting him gently. He releases the tears in droves, not stopping them from pouring from his eyes. He doesn’t bother swiping them away. He just lets himself feel. He’s so incredibly sad.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Manon whispers, stroking his hair calmly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, with Manon soothing him as he cries. The only sounds are Rowan’s sniffles, until Manon’s voice finally breaks in. “So, now would be a bad time to tell you that I’m moving in with Nimi, huh?”  

Rowan shoots up and looks at his roommate. She bites her lip, her eyes filled with guilt as she examines his splotchy, tear-stained face.

“Isn’t that kind of fast?” he asks, and Manon can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips.

“I’m here to teach you your final lesson about lesbians,” she says with a small laugh. “You now get to witness U-hauling, up close and personal.”

“I’m happy for you,” he says and slinks down to rest his head on top of hers. Manon lets him. “Guess I’m moving home,” Rowan sighs and rubs at his cheeks.

“Your mom will be thrilled,” Manon chuckles, and Rowan groans. This was so not the plan he had in mind for this summer. But, life plans change, he guesses.

Manon pats her lap again, and Rowan doesn’t resist putting his head back down. Manon continues to run her nails across his scalp as she prattles on about the things they need to do before the end of the month. He sighs and nods in all the right places, but he can’t help as exhaustion overtakes him. He’ll think about everything else tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

tag list:

@thewayshedreamed​

@b00kworm​

@alifletcher2012​

@aknymph​

@the-third-me​

@mymultiversee​

@superspiritfestival​

@empress-ofbloodshed​

@http-itsrebecca​

@queen-of-glass​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@westofmoon​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

@iliketoasterstrudels​

@bamchickawowow​

@hizqueen4life​

@faerie-queen-fireheart​

@giorgia-the-trashpanda​

@acourtofmoonlight​

@m-like-magic

@rolltide7​

@wordsafterhours​

@amren-courtofdreams​

@alserath​

@tswaney17​

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@joyceortiz13​

@itsme-malin​

@aesthetics-11​

@keshavomit​

@yingyingbearbear

@alxanxah​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@minaidss​

@meowsekai​

@deepdarktrashhole​

@samotita​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@ehazzard7​

@cursebreaker29​

@flourishandblottsx​

@maastrash​

@nishlicious-01

@sailorsassley​

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen​

@anunforseeablereader​

@galyxsy​

@greatwombatblaze​

@queenofbumblebees​

@kaitlynn1216​

@januarystears​

@officialasianbitch​

@jewel334​

@justgiu12​

@df3ndyr

@l0sts0uls1128​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@annejulianneh111

@readstudyhike

@sjmships

@studyliketate​

@iammissstark​

@maybekindasortaace​

@dean-winchesters-impala-1967

@heirofthenightcourt​

@sleeping-and-books

@acourtofmarauders

@cmoff1

@stardelia

@alyx801​

@verryberriess

@viajandosinalas

#rowaelin #cruel summer au #charincharge writes #amusement park au #aelin x rowan #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #tog fanfic

[thewildomega]

Always wondered how Katakuri would react to a painter S / O ? The strange way they look at life from an artistic view , Since it probably wouldn't be practical for a pirate to be an artist : ( Like them randomly stopping to admire a flower and talking about how the color makes them feel only to hear someone like Luffy say " it's just a flower , what's the big deal ? " ) You can make is angst if you want , but can it please have a happy ending ? ( I don't wanna cry!😫)

P.s. My angst idea is the Katakuri's S / O has some ability to do with water and her belief is that is the only reason Katakuri and the Charlotte fam like her (she might be right about some of them🤔) after all I imagine they would think being a painter is stupid . You don't have to do this it's just my idea . 🌸Please and thank you💖

A/N: Thank you for requesting! So I changed a few things up but I hope you liked it!

Through the eyes of an Artist 

Finding a secluded area away from everyone else you pulled out your sketch book and charcoals, your most cherished possessions. Glancing up to the spring that was surrounded by beautiful flowers of all colors you grinned a little and started drawing away, drifting away into your own mind. Times like these were your favorite, times when you could be yourself and not the woman you had been forced to play the part of. 

Your mother and father owned a large sugar cane plantation and had made many business investments over the years by marrying off your brothers and sister. now however it was your turn, your parents chosen suitor had been none other than a man from the Charlotte family, one of the notorious Big Mom's sons. For weeks now you parents had been doubling down on your 'princess' training along with your lessons on how to make be a proper wife. You hadn't known to just two days ago when your ship had arrived at Toto Land Island that your betrothed just happened to be the most feared of them all, Katakuri. Having only been in his presence once, he had said nothing to you, only looked down at you with a cold stare that told you everything you needed to know. He didn't want you. Your parents and brothers had seen it as well apparently and the moment all of you had been shown to your temporary rooms they had all started jumping you. 

"You couldn't smile a little?"

"Why did you not curtsy like we talked about?"

"Couldn't you have made yourself even the slightest bit attractive tonight?" 

"You are such a disappointment..."

"Why oh why did we have to be cursed with such a worthless daughter!"

"The only thing good she has going for her is her devil fruit powers..."

On and on they went, your eyes focused on the floor as tears brimmed and threatened to spill down your cheeks. That night when you had laid in bed all you could think about was how not even your husband would care about you. You were doomed to be forever unloved. What sucked even more was that you were being ripped away from the only friend that you had ever had, the only person that didn't see you as a failure and waste of space. Tika had been the only person to seem to like you for you not just because of your water manipulation devil fruit powers. 

Before you knew it splotches were messing up your art piece and you sniffled as you reached up to wipe away the tears falling from your eyes. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath and sighed. Opening your eyes a bit you looked towards the blueish purple hyacinth and blinked slowly, turning the page to capture that single flower, the one that represented how you felt. Adding in different shades and blending them together with your fingertip you tilted your head to the side in concentration, not even hearing the person walk up behind you. 

"You shouldn't be out here." a deep voice spoke. 

Completely caught off guard by the sudden voice you threw your sketch book and charcoal out of your hands and let out a little yelp. Snapping your eyes up you saw the two crimson eyes looking at you with the same coldness and disdain as they had two days ago. Opening and closing your mouth you quickly bowed your head. "I'm sorry. I... I didn't know it was off limits o..or anything I just... well I..." Stupid you had done it again, you had messed up again. Just like you always did. "I'm sorry." you said in a whisper. 

He just stood there watching as the woman, his bride to be stumbled over an apology. Seeing her bow her head low and then move to gather her things he moved his eyes to the ground and saw a pad of paper of sorts and what looked to be a set of colorful charcoals, many of which were very small. She had been drawing? Crouching down he began helping her gather all the little pieces for her. 

When his large hand started picking the pieces of charcoal out of the grass to hand them to you you glanced up to him and saw his face buried in his scarf. Taking them when he held them out for you, you quickly thanked him and went about placing them in the small bag you had. Being so focused on the task at hand you didn't even notice him lift your sketch pad up and flip it over to examine your flower piece until it was too late. "No! Don't look at tha...." you tried saying but it was too late.

Standing back to his full height he looked over the different drawings and art pieces. "You did all these?" he asked, his voice emotionless. 

Curling up some you mumbled out a small 'yes' and readied yourself for the cruel words you were so used to hearing. When he said nothing you bit your lip and looked down. "I know it's a useless pass time, stupid even but I..."

Looking to a painting of the sea he grinned a little behind his scarf. "You are an exceptional artist." Hearing her small gasp he looked down to see a small blush dusting her cheeks and her eyes looking up at him in pure shock. She wasn't used to such compliments apparently. 

You could honestly say your heart warmed a bit at his kind words and you swallowed thickly before replying. "Thank you." 

Humming he began leading her back to the palace. "Do you preferer to use Charcoals?" he asked. 

Shaking your head you reached up to brush your hair back behind your ear. "No, paints are my favorite." 

"Gouache, Watercolors, acrylics or oil?" he asked. 

You had never had anyone to talk about art with before and could feel yourself smiling a little at the conversation. "Well I've only ever been able to use Acrylics and oil based paints before. I have seen some watercolor pieces from other artist before though and hope to one day try them as well." 

Humming he continued walking with her all the way to the palace doors, the both of them quietly talking about this and that until he heard a man and woman yell his fiancé's name. 

Quickly looking up when you heard your parents yell your name you saw them both waiting at the front entrance, deep scowls on their faces. Instantly the smile that Katakuri had managed to bring to your lips disappeared. "Mother, fath..."

"Where have you been?! We have been searching for you for hours!" you mother screeched. "Just look at your dress, covered in those damn charcoals again." she snapped. 

"I.. I'm sorry.. I..." You started but were quickly cut off by your father. 

"No more of your excuses. I am sick and tired of this worthless hobby of yours." he growled, snatching your sketch pad and charcoals from you. 

"No, please father I..."

"Y/n that is enough." your mother hissed out between clenched teeth. 

"Now, you will apologize to Katakuri for no doubt wasting his time with your foolishness." your father demanded. 

He had stood there quietly, listening to Y/n's parents belittle her. Crossing his arms over his chest he continued to remain silent, even when his bride to be turned to him and whispered out a sorrowful apology. Not responding because he knew if he opened his mouth he would say too much he just stood there and watched as her mother grabbed her wrist, too hard judging by the small wince she made, and quickly pulled her back towards their rooms. 

Sighing your father pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards the commander. "I assure you Katakuri she isn't as useless as she seems. While she may be stuck on this junk and her looks aren't very good, my daughter does have a powerful water power unlike any other. I have no doubt that she will prove to be a valuable asset to your family. Not to mention she will also be able to give you plenty of heirs. I only hope this little mishap hasn't made you change your mind about marrying her. I will be having a long talk with her and I promise that she will give this up." he said, holding up the art supplies in his hand . 

Gritting his teeth he glared down at the man. "I intend to keep my families side of the deal." Without another word he walked away from the man before he did something he would regret or rather something his mother would not be happy about. 

........................

Today was the day, your wedding day but you couldn't find a reason to be happy. All day you had been getting ready. People pinning you up in an attempt to make you look somewhat acceptable. Your mother's harsh comment about Katakuri not looking to your face too long making a knot form in your throat. Walking down the isle towards him you could only think back on the last few days where he had went back to ignoring you. To your knowledge the two of you had been hitting it off pretty good the other day, speaking of this and that. Perhaps though your family had been right and he was only being nice for the sake of your upcoming union. 

Standing beside him as the priest spoke you looked him over through your veil and noticed how handsome he looked. Before too long your mind had began making notes about how you could draw this moment later but then you remembered your father's words and frowned. Never again would you be allowed to practice your art skills, having brought enough shame to your family. 

When it came time to kiss and he lifted your veil you looked up into his crimson eyes and saw them not as cold as they were before and blinked. Feeling him kiss your head through his scarf you heard one of your brothers make a quiet comment about not blaming Katakuri for wanting to kiss you, the words making your heart clench painfully. 

During the reception you sat beside Katakuri and kept your head down. 

"Congratulations..."

Looking up you saw a thin, tall looking woman standing there and straightened up when you realized it was one of the other Charlotte children. "T..Thank you." you said politely. 

"My name is Brulee, we haven't met yet but Big Brother here tells me you are an artist." she said with a smile. 

"An Artist!?" Big Mom questioned around a mouthful of cake. 

Gasping a little you looked between her and your husband. Nodding a bit you opened your mouth to speak when you caught sight of your father staring daggers at you and dropped your shoulders. "I... I used to be."

Knitting his brows at her sudden change in emotion he looked across the hall to see her father looking at her with a very strict look and raised his chin as father went on talking to his mother. 

"It was a childhood hobby, nothing to brag about." you father laughed off with the rest of your family joining in. 

Seeing his wife's eyes look to her lap and noticing a droplet of water fall to her lap he let out a deep breath and stood. "Mama, Y/n and I are going to retire for the night." he spoke deeply.

"Yes, yes. Of course you both are ready for the honeymoon." she laughed. 

Blushing behind his scarf he said nothing as he held his hand out for Y/n to take, noticing her hand shaking a bit. "Brulee." he said and heard his little sister hum. Without a word they led her from the room and out to the hall. Seeing Brulee stand before a mirror he continued holding his wife's hand as his sister opened the mirror world. 

Going through one mirror and then being led to another you felt Katakuri stop and glanced up just the tiniest amount. 

"Thank you sister." he said. 

"Of course." She told her brother with a smile before looking down to the smaller woman. "I can't wait to get to know you Y/n. Congratulations again." 

With that you felt Katakuri pull you through another mirror and looked around when you saw you were now in a large house of sorts. 

Seeing her look around curiously he grinned, "Welcome home." 

Looking up to him you blinked and then scanned your eyes around the house. From where you were, which seemed to be a front foyer you could see a living area, kitchen and dining room. There was a massive stairway in front of you with many doors on the upper level that were closed. 

"I will give you the grand tour tomorrow but there is one room I have been wanting to show you." he said. Holding her hand he led her up the stairs and down the hall a bit to the third door down from his... their bedroom. Grabbing the knob he looked down to her and grinned behind his scarf. "I wanted you to have a room to call your own... I guess you could call it a wedding gift from me to you." he told her, noticing her confused look. Opening the door he turned on the light and instantly heard her gasp. 

Gasping you moved your hand to cover your mouth. Staring into the room you saw it filled with different art supplies. A large easel sat in the middle of the room with a chair in front of it. New paints of all different colors and types sat on the built in shelves and any other kinds of supplies you could ever dream of having. For the first time in your life you felt happy tears fill your eyes. You had to be dreaming, this had to be a dream. 

Watching her quietly he said nothing until a few minutes had passed and he started getting nervous, maybe he had went overboard and it was now creepy. "So is this acceptable... do you like..." He didn't get to finish his sentence before she was pulling him down by his scarf and smashing her lips to his. Freezing he felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes go wide. Her soft lips stayed on his for a moment before she slowly pulled away and opened her eyes to look at him. Readying himself for the cruel comments he felt his body tense but to his surprise she only smiled and it made him even more uncomfortable. "Well go on say something." he grunted out. 

Cupping his scared cheek you felt his large teeth against your skin and smiled, "You're beautiful, a true masterpiece. Maybe one day you might let me paint you?" 

A deep blush tinted his cheeks and now it was him that thought he was dreaming. 

#Charlotte Katakuri #one piece katakuri #katakuri x reader #Katakuir fanfiction #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #fluff #light angst

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Fairytale

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing

Request 2: Hi love!:D idk if you’re taking requests or if you’re in the works of smth, but like, I’ve had this idea in my head about your fic of Mother Nature with what she said about the weather affecting her. Like it’s winter season or smth and the sun has not been out for days (and maybe Ororo is not around to help??) so she’s feeling weak and Warren is doing all he can so she can get better🥺 I reaally love your writing💕 💕

Warnings: swearing and angst

Word Count: 12.5k

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks. We should be back before December 21st.” 

(Y/N) huffed, that was almost two weeks, plus the holidays were coming up. “Stay safe, okay? All I want for Christmas is you.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “I already got you a gift.” 

(Y/N) thanked him and he just held her tighter. 

-

Warren went on a mission with Raven, Alex, Kurt, Ororo, and Jean. They were going to Italy to stop some mafia mutant issue. “Which is stupid,” Scott retorted. “We live in New York. Surely the mafia isn’t only terrorizing mutants in Italy.” 

(Y/N) shrugged, “Probably.” 

Her mind wandered as Jubilee talked to Scott about their final for Dr. McCoy. I need to water the plants in the greenhouse. (Y/N) yawned, she felt a sudden wave of drowse come over herself. I’ve been so tired lately… 

It wasn’t a mystery why (Y/N) had been so tired lately. It was because of the weather. The earlier it got dark, the less energy she had— and with it getting colder, her abilities were limited. Most of the plants in her room had gone dormant. (Y/N) was worried she would too, but it hadn’t gotten cold enough. 

“I think we should go skating tomorrow,” Jubilee suggested. 

“Just the four of us?” Peter asked. 

“Do you see anyone else? They’re all in Italy.” Peter squinted his eyes at Jubilee as she was sarcastic. “The rink is open, it’s December, and I’m bored! I wanna pick up cute girls.” 

“Isn’t ice skating like a go-to in Hallmark Christmas movies?” Scott asked. 

“Why do you know that?” Jubilee asked. 

“We watch those all the time on nights with the boys,” Peter explained. “They’re awful and all the same. There was one where a girl was in love with a ghost and another where a girl texted her dead mom to grieve… I’m so lucky I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

(Y/N) laughed, hallmark Christmas films were pretty cheesy and cliche. 

“I mean yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go skating, or do something. Everyone is gone and we need to stay active.” 

Peter and Scott both looked at Jubilee with confusion. “But we’re all in pretty good shape.”

“No, I mean (Y/N),” She whispered to the boys. 

“What’s wrong with her? She looks fine.” Scott said, quickly checking her out as she was preoccupied with her phone. 

“Around winter, she tends to get weaker cause it’s colder and the sun goes down earlier…”

“Yeah… We know…”

“No, you guys don’t get it. During the winter plants go into like, hibernation— and if it gets too cold and (Y/N) falls asleep she’ll go dormant. The only safe places are her room and an area set up in the lab.” 

“We have to keep her awake all winter?” Peter asked curiously.

“No, we just have to make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom and stays there. It’s the only ace place because it’s like a greenhouse sort of…”

“What happens if we don’t?...”

“She could die!” 

“Who could die?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Scarlett Johanson’s stunt-double. I mean have you seen the new Black Widow trailer?” Jubilee asked without missing a beat.

“Eh, I dunno. She’s a professional, plus stunt-doubles are kind of expected to get hurt… while it’s not preferable an innocent gets hurt,... they did sign up for it.” 

“I never thought of it like that…” Scott said almost seeing off-handed while trying to noticeably glare at Jubilee. 

“Well, I’ve got to go. I promised Catherine I’d help make gingerbread cookies.” Everyone wished (Y/N) some form of goodbye, or have fun, leaving them alone.

“(Y/N) is going to die?!” Peter almost screamed. 

“No! No, no— (Y/N) is not going to die. She’s done this longer than I’ve known her. I think she was like, thirteen when these first started happening. I didn’t know (Y/N) until we were 15, but still.” Jubilee continued on,  “She’ll either pass out randomly in the middle of December or January and hibernate until March or April, or she won’t go dormant and just have to spend most of the spring outside, like soaking up the sunshine or whatever. “

“Oh, okay. So this is normal. Great. (Y/N) might fucking die every winter and we just have to act like children on thin ice? Deal with it somehow?” Peter looked like he was freaking out. 

“I said she’s been doing this for years, plus she hasn’t died yet. We’ll be fine.”

Scott’s gut was telling him something different, but he blamed that on his constant anxiety. 

-

Five days after Warren left

(Y/N), Scott, Peter, and Jubilee all went ice skating. Jubilee and Peter attempted to spy on cute girls, while Scott tried to act perfect, and (Y/N) tried her best to not lean against the wall too much. It was fun, but indoor rinks are as cold as the outside ones. (Y/N) bundled up enough, but she still got chills. 

Scott took everyone to some artsy coffee shop that Jean adored. He claimed they had a killer hot chocolate. Jubilee already tried it once before, being Jean’s best friend/roommate. Peter thought it was kind of watery and not that great, and (Y/N) didn’t think it was bad but… 

“You overhyped it. It’s good though.” Scott pouted, and Peter laughed through Twinkie bites and hot chocolate sips. (Y/N) felt warm and fuzzy inside. Almost… sleepy…

Her mind started to drift… Warren… everything they’d do when he got back from Italy… 

Their first winter holiday together… all the shitty hallmark movies we can watch with Scott and Peter… the—

“(Y/N)!”

“Huh?!” She rubbed her eyes and tried to seem awake. “What is it?”

“You were dozing off there,” Scott pointed out. 

“Oh.” She scratched her head. “Sorry. Haha,” Her laugh was somewhat sarcastic. “Just don’t let me, uh… Don’t let me pass out. Wouldn’t wanna get nicknamed Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter joked.

-

Nine days after Warren left

Peter taught everyone, or attempted to, teach everyone how to make a seven-layered cake. Jubilee and Scott kept sneaking batter, while (Y/N) was struggling to not use her powers. 

“Okay, but like, I could get sugar from a plant or—“

“No!” Jubilee protested, batter on the corner of her mouth. “We— we have all these ingredients here. Why waste them?” 

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, they were a bit purple, but she let it slide and grabbed sugar and other dry ingredients from the cabinets. 

“If she uses too much strength she could pass out. It’s been snowing hard for the past two days, and it’s been cloudy all week.” 

“Can’t she eat a protein bar or drink some coffee or something?” Peter whispered. 

Jubilee shook her head, “No, she needs vitamin D. Like, from the sun. More than a normal person does.” 

(Y/N) set the sugar on the counter and looked at the recipe from Peter’s mom, reading bits out loud, “We need 2 and 1⁄4 cups of sugar.” She looked at the measuring cups, trying to find the one she needed. 

“Hey, Scott! We agreed no phones out,” Jubilee scolded him. 

He rolled his eyes, “You sound like a teacher… I was just checking a package I ordered…”

“If you actually bought that $200 lightsaber you were telling me about,” (Y/N) joked, “I will scream.” 

Peter scoffed, “Please, Jean got him that for Christmas.” His face fell soon as the words left his mouth. “Shit…” 

“No, she didn’t. We had a budget and—“ Jubilee and Peter both looked at their feet, eyes wide and sheepish. “I am not worth $200.” 

“You sound like Warren,” Jubilee complained, cracking eggs into a separate bowl. 

“It’s true! I don’t want her to spend money on me.” He glanced at his phone again.

“She’s not going to text you. No one is allowed to bring phones on missions, because the government can like, track you and shit.” Peter reminded him. 

“I know, I know… but what if something happened? What if someone died or they got stuck and stranded and—“

(Y/N) put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “Calm down Romeo. They’re going to be fine. If something happens, Xavier will let us know.” Scott nodded, trying to believe (Y/N) was right. 

-

Fifteen Days after Warren left

(Y/N) was getting sick and tired. Tired of her friends never leaving her alone, the panic on their faces if she so much as yawned or rubbed her eyes, she was sick of them being so nervous. More so Scott and Peter than Jubilee. 

Of course, they meant well, and just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma, but she didn’t need to be doted over like a tropical plant lost in the arctic. 

(Y/N) huffed as she messed with her hair in the bathroom mirror. Her leaves looked less colorful, more brown and dead, the vines around her legs were gone, and her eyes looked like she hadn’t been sleeping. She had, but it was hard, the sun went down at 5 PM, and it was cloudy and cold every day it seemed. 

I just want Warren here. He’d make everything better. We could cuddle and nap together…

(Y/N)’s turned blue and red as she stopped daydreaming and ran her toothbrush underwater. 

By nature, (Y/N) was not a gossip girl or a secret keeper— people saw her as a Disney princess, a few of the younger students even called her “Mother Nature”... but she had ruined her status by lying to the person she cared about most. 

She didn’t tell Warren about her dormant state, about how she could sleep until possibly March. She wanted to stay awake and active all winter. She wanted to spend her time with her angel. 

But he was in Italy fighting crime, and wouldn’t be back until mere days before Christmas. 

She had to be awake for Christmas and New Year’s. After that, it didn’t matter. 

Wait. Then she remembered Valentine’s Day. 

I have to be awake for that too. And Warren’s birthday… I can’t miss those… She made herself a promise she wouldn’t go dormant this winter. 

She glanced out the window as she scrubbed her teeth with the toothbrush. It was snowing again, thick heavy flakes came down almost in chunks. 

-

Twenty Days after Warren left

(Y/N) accidentally drank out of Peter’s cup without realizing it for about thirty minutes. Why did it matter?

Peter had caffeine in his soda, and (Y/N) did not. She was planning to go to bed in her room, and wake up when the sun rose to conserve energy. 

Now, she was staying up late with her friends, watching some crappy zombie movie on late-night TV.

“They could easily just move to an island. Use the old man’s boat. The zombies can’t swim!” (Y/N) argued during a commercial break. 

“Yeah, but there’s never any logic in these things.” Peter drowsed. 

“I guess so. It’s kind of dumb though…” 

Peter shrugged and took a sip of his drink, “Yeah, but it’s like Sharknado. They make money, it doesn’t matter if it’s bad or not.” 

(Y/N) didn’t retaliate, as the final commercial ended and the screen faded to black, signaling the movie was back on. 

-

Scott couldn’t remember when he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to see who was all around him. 

Peter was passed out on the floor for some reason, Jubilee was asleep on one side of the couch… and Scott saw (Y/N), passed out with her head laying on a pillow. 

“Shit! (Y/N)!” He shook her, trying to get a reaction, but nothing happened. He repeated her name trying to undo her slumber until the other two woke. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, hair tussled and eyes half-closed. 

“(Y/N) fell asleep on the couch!” Scott was panicking. He had one job— one job from Jubilee, “Make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom or else she won’t wake up until March.”

 “Scott! Stop it!” Jubilee pulled him away from (Y/N)’s sleeping figure. “You could kill her!” 

“What—” He turned to Jubilee, “What do we do then?” 

“Peter, get Professor McCoy up here.” 

“But it’s 4 AM…” Jubilee gave him a deadly glare and he sped off. 

Scott was ordered to sit and be quiet while Peter got McCoy. 

“She fell asleep. She drank some of my soda earlier, causing her to not be tired. We thought we could get her sleepy by watching a movie, but we all fell asleep before she did…” Peter was giving Hank a 30-second recap, with 3000 words. 

“Peter, everything’s going to be fine.” Hank carefully scooped (Y/N) up in his arms, bridal style. He looked her over up close. Her skin looked pale, the leaves and flowers in her hair were gone, all that was left were dried twigs, and the vines usually wrapped around her legs were concealed by sweatpants, so he couldn’t take note on them. “I’m taking her to the medical bay. Everyone go to sleep, you can come back in the morning…” Hank glanced at the time, “You can come back later.” 

-

The three mutants walked to their rooms quietly. Jubilee made a stop at a bathroom to brush her teeth, while Peter and Scott went straight to their dorm. 

Peter used his speed to get changed and hop in bed. “I’ll leave the light on while you get changed.” Scott didn’t answer, he didn’t move. “Scott?”

“What if she dies?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Jubilee said she’s been doing this for years, (Y/N)‘s not gonna die.” Scott still didn’t move, causing Peter to sit up and face his roommate better. “Everything will be okay. McCoy knows what to do, and this is no different than when bears go hibernate for the winter or when geese fly south. She’ll be fine.” 

“We don’t know that. If something interrupts her she could die—“ 

“She won’t.” Peter knew he knew, what Scott was thinking. Scott did what anyone would have done. Tried to jostle her awake, he didn’t know what else to do. 

“Do you know what it’s like?...” 

Peter hadn’t the slightest idea what Scott was referencing, he kept his mouth shut, trying to figure it out. 

“To have almost killed someone? Your parents arguing with theirs, lawsuits being threatened, your life could end before theirs and the doctors think they’re on borrowed time… How you know you deserve to be punished, and instead you’re just sent away, to be with more family and start new. You try to be better than you ever were, and people— they believe it. You deserve everything you’ve worked for… and then you go and fuck up! It’s one thing to have your mutation surface and have chunks of ceiling and a bathroom door put a school bully in a coma— but to hurt someone like (Y/N)?...” Scott’s voice trembled. His cheeks were covered in his tears. “If anything happens it’s going to be my fault. Warren’s going to blame me because everyone talks me up about how responsible I am and all these leadership qualities I have, that I actually don’t. Warren is going to kill me if she doesn’t wake up—“ He choked out a sob. 

Peter was quick to wrap the boy in his arms. “Hey, hey… shh… shh… You didn’t hurt her. She’s going to be fine. Hank picked her up and carried her to his lab and she did fine. You shaking her didn’t do anything.” Scott continued weeping. 

“How about you take a shower, and then we can go see her, okay?” Peter talked slower than ever before and with softness, enough to be gentle, but not so much you’d think Scott was a child. 

He nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Okay, come on buddy…” 

-

Hank had carefully dressed her in a hospital gown and hooked her up to various equipment. Everything seemed normal for her coma-like state. He didn’t wake her up carrying her downstairs. 

Hank sat down in a chair next to her. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what to do. 

This had happened before, but Hank just kept her in his lab and he wouldn’t do anything until she woke up. Sometimes students would visit to see how she was doing… Most of the time they’d just whisper and watch her for a few minutes before leaving, some made jokes about how she needed Prince Charming to kiss and wake her up. 

Hank hesitated allowing Charles tell the team what happened. They wouldn’t be back for another week, and he didn’t want to cause a distraction for them. 

“Hey Doc,” Peter waved. Scott was standing next to him. 

Hank quickly put his glasses back on and stood up. “What are you doing awake? You should be asleep.” 

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured we could come by, see how (Y/N)’s doing.” 

“Yeah— she’s doing fine. Vitals are steady and her heartbeat is regular. All we have to do is wait.” Hank faked some optimism. He knew why they were there, and she was fine— except, Hank had no idea when she’d awake. 

“Did you tell Xavier what happened?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, he knows. He said there’s nothing we can do until she wakes up. We have the option to wake her and keep her in the green room, but that’s easier said than done…” Scott looked pale. Hank cursed to himself for freaking the kid out. “Trust me, this is the best option for her.” Scott nodded. 

“Yeah… “ Peter tried to distract him. “Why don’t we eat some leftover cake?” 

“I’m not hungry Pete,” Scott answered.

“Well I am, and you’re not going to mope around down here. It’ll like, give (Y/N) a bad vibe. Come on.” Scott sighed and followed Peter out of the med bay. 

-

Twenty four days after Warren left

Warren was exhausted, Everyone was. The mission went smoothly, or smoothly as it could, considering the number of minor injuries everyone bore. 

“We’ve got a few more hours until we’re home,” Alex announced, checking in on the younger X-Men.

Ororo, Jean, and Kurt were playing go fish. Warren was watching, contributing nothing to the game but sarcastic comments and jokingly-judgemental looks. 

“Great, thanks,” They replied. 

Alex nodded and walked back to his seat in the cockpit. He pulled something small and rectangular out of his pocket. Warren carefully watched from the corner of his eye. 

Is that a cell phone? 

Cell phones weren’t allowed on missions. They were distractions, not to mention out of rage cellular fees were expensive— plus with modern technology comes tracking. Having something as minor as a cellphone on a mission could jeopardize the whole operation simply because someone wanted to use google maps and see where the nearest Starbucks was. 

“Alex?” 

“Yeah?” He stuck the object in his pocket. 

“What is that?” Warren kept his down, as to not alert the others.

“What?” 

“The thing in your pocket. What is it?” 

“Warren—“

Warren was pissed. “It’s a cellphone isn’t it?”

“It’s a burner phone. In case of an emergency—“

“Why’d you take it out?” 

“Hank texted me.” 

“Oh, great.” Warren spat, “You bring a phone on missions in case you miss your little boyfriend.” 

“Warren—“

“No!” He spoke out. At this point, everyone was watching. “You don’t get to break the rules and endanger the mission!”

“Warren, calm down.” 

“You can’t tell me—“ 

“Someone at the mansion got hurt, bird brain. That’s why Alex’s using the burner to text Hank.” Raven rolled her eyes. Dramatic much?

“What?”

No one knew this, not even Jean. They all tuned into the conversation. 

“Who did?”

“What happened?” 

“Everything’s fine.”Alex lied.

“No, it’s not. You wouldn’t be texting Hank if it was.”

Jean discreetly put two fingers to her temple, trying to figure out who got hurt. Raven saw her and glared, mentally telling her to stop.

“Sorry.”

“Everyone settle down. We have a few hours left until we’re back in Westchester. Just chill out until then.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and sat by himself, thinking Raven’s little distraction speech was stupid. 

He couldn’t help it— acting all childish— he missed (Y/N) and he really hated having to share a bed with Kurt on missions. Kurt’s tail got all tangled and Warren’s wings were cramped. 

It was different from when he’d cuddle with (Y/N). He’d wrap his wings around her, and she’d grow flowers in her sleep around them. It was soothing… He’d wake up refreshed, and looking at his wonderful girlfriend. Kurt was… a major downgrade… he was a decent roommate, but he couldn’t stand him as a bedmate. 

Warren yawned, making a note to sleep for ten years and hold (Y/N) while he did it, once he got back home. 

-

The basketball court came into view, and the ground caved in, letting Raven land the Jet in its hangar. Alex announced they were back and free to get off the ship. The rest of the team hastily grabbed their bags and ran out of the X-Jet. 

Outside waiting for them was Jubilee, Peter, and Scott. Hank wasn’t there.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Warren teased Alex. 

He didn’t respond.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Jean mocked Warren.

Warren did a double-take as Peter and Jubilee spoke to Raven and Ororo. (Y/N) wasn’t there. 

“Hey, guys.” The three that stayed behind looked up with guilty expressions on their face as soon as they looked at Warren. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked. 

No answer.

Warren asked again, but more concerned, “Guys, where’s (Y/N)?” 

“She’s not dead—“ Jubilee hit Peter and scolded him.

“What does that mean?” 

The group exchanged nervous eye contact. They weren’t sure how to explain it, but if they didn’t Warren was probably going to attempt murder. 

“She’s in what Hank calls a ‘dormant state’. Basically hibernation—“ Warren’s face visibly paled. “Except waking her up is way more complicated…” 

“So she’s in a coma?...” He asked.

“Yeah, basically…” Jubilee admitted.

“How did this happen?” 

“(Y/N)’s mutation, I thought she told you…”

“Told me what?” Jubilee didn’t answer him. “What, Jubilee?”

Alex put his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Maybe Hank should explain it…”

-

“So she won’t wake up until March?” 

“April at the latest,” Hank answered. 

“And you let this happen?” He turned to Jubilee, Scott, and Peter. They were terrified of what Warren might do. 

“No, no, they didn’t,” Hank defended them. “Her body just does this. It’s no different than that time of month…” 

“A period isn’t four months long,” Warren mumbled. 

“Let’s give him a moment alone with her.” Hank ushered everyone out, shutting the door behind him. 

Warren sank in the chair next to (Y/N)’s body. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” He mumbled. “Fuck, fuck,” Tears welled in his eyes. “Fuck!” He screamed. He put his fist up to his mouth to muffle his sobs. 

“How could… Why didn’t she tell me?” Warren looked at (Y/N)’s figure. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” 

Warren felt his heart breaking. She looked so… so dead. 

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t dead but she wouldn’t wake until March.

 It was December. 

“Hank said… he said, we could wake you up, but there’s a chance you’ll die. And I’d rather have you like this than dead…” He turned away and mouthed cursed under his breath. 

Warren didn’t know what to do. Sure, he wasn’t necessarily one of those clingy boyfriends, whose only life purpose is to serve his girlfriend… but he really liked her. 

He wanted to spend more time with her than he ever could. She understood when he had nightmares or needed space. They never fought— their biggest disagreement was on a stupid homework problem. 

She made earrings out of some of his metal feathers, he learned how to take care of all kinds of plants. She showed him how to be compassionate and kind, he showed her how to be assertive and throw a decent punch. 

Peter teased him all the time, saying he was “in loooove,” dragged out o and everything. He’d always tell him to shut up or piss off. 

Because maybe he was in love with her. 

“But I’m her first boyfriend.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be her first love.” 

“That means I’ll hurt her…” Warren’s voice cracked. “I don’t wanna hurt her…” 

He didn’t know she’d hurt him.

-

Warren wasn’t allowed to sit at (Y/N)’s side all day, or even all week. He had work to make up for when he was in Italy— homework, mid-terms, laundry, post-mission exam— not to mention Christmas was in five days.

He tried to keep himself busy in the first two days, and he overachieved everything he had to do. Which inevitably, left him with nothing to do. 

“God, you look miserable,” Peter commented when Warren made his way into the kitchen, bags under his eyes, messy bed-head hair, sweatpants hung low, and a wrinkly t-shirt. 

“I stayed up, deep cleaning my closet. I’ve got some stuff I’m gonna donate.” 

“That’s nice.” Jean curtly commented. 

Nobody knew what to say. They weren’t sure what would trigger Warren. 

“We were all gonna see Knives Out,” Scott said. “A day off for everyone, chance to get last-minute gifts…” 

“Not interested.” Warren poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. 

“Come on,” Jubilee almost begged. “You haven’t left the mansion at all in the past few days.” 

“I have stuff to do.” He poured milk into his bowl. 

“Warren, you deep cleaned your closet at midnight. You have nothing to do and this will keep you occupied for a while.” Jubilee pointed out.

He was tired, “I don’t want to leave the mansion. What if something happens—“ 

“(Y/N)’s going to be fine.” 

Warren held his spoon tightly in his fist. “That’s what I thought before I went to Italy— Look at her now! She’s in a coma.”

“She’ll wake up in the spring,” Kurt offered up to calm Warren down. 

“This could have been prevented. I should have been here—“ Warren felt himself breakdown. He started crying, and no one knew what to do. Ororo got up from her seat and hugged him. He sobbed into her shoulder. 

Ororo gave him words of comfort, “It’s okay, this is normal for her. Distance will do you good. Everything’s going to be okay… You should get out, get fresh air.” 

Warren nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “Uh-huh.” 

“Come see the movie with us,” She suggested. 

“Okay, yeah… I’ll— I’ll go get ready.” He put his bowl in the sink and went out of the kitchen.

“Holy shit.” Peter’s eyes were wide with shock. “He’s a mess!” 

Jubilee swatted him with her hand, “Hush! He’s clearly upset… His girlfriend’s in hibernation until March.” 

“Yeah, but like, he just started crying,” Peter stated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Warren cry before… He just looked so broken, like, holy shit. I don’t think I was that upset when I got cheated on by my girlfriend, junior year on prom night…”  The worst part is, we could have prevented this.” 

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Scott mumbled. 

“Hey!” Ororo chasted the two boys. “I don’t care what happened while we were gone, but you’re both acting pathetic. This is no one’s fault! Get your heads out of your asses and be there for Warren.” 

“We should wake her up…” Everyone looked at Scott like he was crazy. 

“And risk killing her?” Ororo asked. 

“Yeah, no,” Peter answered. “Romeo may follow suit.” 

-

Warren didn’t want to go outside, but he needed to keep busy, or else he’d start crying again. 

He was a mess— he knew Kurt was tired of him staying up all night, doing anything and everything to keep busy… but when he closed his eyes he was face to face with nightmares— (Y/N)’s practically lifeless body lying in the hospital bed, her never waking up, or if she did she’d have amnesia and not remember anyone. 

Warren couldn’t sleep, but staying up all night would eventually take its toll on him, or he’d run out of things to do. 

Warren got changed and quickly ran downstairs to the medical bay. He wanted to check on (Y/N) before he left. 

“How is she?” 

“Same as she has been for the past few days,” Hank answered. “Everything’s normal, and she’s doing fine— great actually.” 

Warren nodded, “Um, I just wanted to see how she was doing. I’m going out with the other X-Men… we’re seeing Knives Out… Ororo said it’d be a good idea for me to get out of the mansion.” 

Hank blinked and then frowned in thought. “Yeah, she’s right. However, you seem to be doing really well, considering the situation. You haven’t spent all your time down here, but you do visit. You haven’t acted out with a huge wave of impulse emotions, but getting out for a little bit would be great for you.” 

Warren bit his tongue, holding back from telling Hank the truth about how he was doing. “Yeah… I’ll um, see you later.” 

-

Warren zoned out in the middle of the movie for a few minutes and had to ask Kurt what happened. 

“Police chased them down.” 

“Ah, okay.” Warren nodded. He glanced at his other friends. Scott had an arm around Jean, and they were cuddling, practically on top of each other, in the big recliners. Jubilee bought sour patch kids and was sharing the bag with Ororo. Peter and Kurt were really engrossed in the movie, and Warren was just kind of there… 

He was lonely— The movie was good, and he was enjoying it— but Warren as a whole was lonely.

He put up the hard “I don’t need anybody,” exterior to protect himself from hurt. His poor relationship with his parents caused him to be cautious and made it hard for him to develop a steady healthy relationship with any authority figures in his life. His cage fighting days taught him, he was alone, and nobody was ever going to love him, and he’d have to fight to get anywhere in life. 

Obviously, that proved to be false— he found confinement in Alex, (and sometimes Hank), as the older brother he never had. The community in the mansion proved he didn’t have to be so alone, and (Y/N) made him realize love is not some made-up fantasy, concocted in Disney’s headquarters. 

(Y/N) felt like his best friend on most occasions, and while he had all his other friends, her being gone made him feel so empty inside. 

-

On Christmas Eve he moped around in Scott and Peter’s room, one earbud in listening to sad music.

Scott wasn’t even there— he was doing God knows what with Jean, and Peter was playing Pac-Man. 

“You can hang out with me tomorrow if you want. I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“I’m good.” Warren knew Peter would probably run home and mess around with his sisters and mom, or awkwardly hang around the mansion, trying to find Erik and tell him about their relationship. 

“Dude,” He awkwardly chuckled. “Okay, look— um, I know, nothing I say can fix the situation, but if you want to talk I’m here.” 

Warren paused his music. “What was the last thing she said?”

Peter was awestruck, “She’s not dead!” 

“I know—“

“She’s in a coma that she’s going to wake up from! She didn’t die.”

“I know that! I just want to know what she said before she went into the coma…” 

Peter felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. Warren seemed so defeated, like a kicked puppy. “We were watching a crappy zombie movie on tv… and it was like, really bad, and we were mostly complaining about how bad it was. The last thing I remember was she said something about how the prosthetics sucked and she could have done it better with some mint leaves and slime.” 

The corner of Warren’s lip rose up slightly. Typical (Y/N), but she was probably right. 

“Wanna play Pac-Man with me?” 

Warren sat up, “Sure.” 

-

“He just started crying, like— I’ve never seen anyone so upset, and I thought you were dead at one point!” Scott was frazzled in Hank’s lab with Alex, Jubilee, Jean, Ororo, and Kurt. 

“He seemed fine when he came down to visit her the other day.” Scott gave Hank a disbelieving look. “Well if he’s crying over little things, obviously he’s extremely stressed out and I’m not going to push him.” 

Scott glanced in the direction of (Y/N)’s area in the lab, “Maybe we should wake her up.”

“Are you crazy?!” Jubilee asked. “She could die from that—“

“She probably won’t though… (Y/N) being unconscious has made Warren, everyone on edge.”

“You want an easy way out of this,” Jubilee raised her voice as she kept speaking, “If you really cared about how Warren was, you’d be trying to comfort him best you can despite your half-assed friendship!”

“It’s our fault she’s like this, Jubes! We were supposed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep anywhere besides her room, and we couldn’t do it.” 

“Scott, she was getting weaker every day, this would have happened no matter what—“

His voice got louder, yet he was practically shaking, “No, we had the most simple task in the world! And we couldn’t do it! We’re the X-Men and we couldn’t even keep a girl from falling asleep!”

Jean hugged Scott, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault. She does this every year— and it’s not like you ignored her.”

“What if it was you instead? I’d be just like Warren…”

“Don’t say that—” She kissed the top of his head. “You’d be fine.” 

“I think we should discuss this with Warren and the Professor before we do anything, drastic.” Hank’s final words were clearly aimed at Scott. 

-

“We can wake her up…” 

Everyone was still in the lab, but this time Warren and Professor Xavier were present. Warren didn’t move, he was focused on what Hank was telling him and what it actually meant. 

“But… she could die if not done correctly. Waking up an animal early out of hibernation could kill it, but getting a plant out of its dormant season would just weaken it, if done too quickly though, it could kill the plant.” 

“Hank,” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I thought we agreed, when (Y/N) goes dormant, we do not disturb her. We agreed with her parents several years ago.” 

“Yeah, but that was when she was a kid. She’s older now, and everyone’s distraught. Her boyfriend—“

“Oh, please,” Charles scoffed. “If I got on my knees and tried to align the stars every time Erik got hurt, there wouldn’t even be a school.” 

“Cut the crap. You and Erik fight and make up like some divorced couple in a soap opera. When Erik gets hurt, you’re always the first to know.” 

Xavier didn’t say anything out loud, he just glared. 

“Um, personally, uh, sorry,” Warren awkwardly cut in. “I think if (Y/N) might die if we wake her up, then it’s not worth it. And if her parents agreed, letting her sleep is the best thing, then it probably is.” 

Warren didn’t even want to think about her folks. Could you imagine? Their daughter dies because some dumb goth boy couldn’t handle her taking a three-month-long nap without him. Yeah, that’d impress them.

Charles clapped his hands together, “Well, there! It’s settled then. (Y/N) is fine as she is. I know this is upsetting for her to not be present around the holidays, but we can all assume she would want us to have fun and be kind to others, showing compassion and always helping those in need.”

-

Warren couldn’t sleep. He was restless in bed— too hot, then too cold, he’d have the beginnings of a nightmare or no dream at all— he was sure Kurt would have kicked him out by now if he hadn’t made the decision to sleep in Peter and Scott’s room for the night. 

His tossing and turning made him have to pee. He got up and went over to the bathroom. 

Looking in the mirror as he dried his hands he sighed. Warren looked so tired, but he didn’t know what to do. 

For the first time since Germany, he truly felt alone. 

-

He grabbed the two gifts stored under his bed and he quietly walked down the halls. 

None of the doors were locked, it was almost too easy for him to get into Hank’s lab. 

He flicked on the light switch, even though he didn’t need to. Her sleeping figure made his heart almost burst out of his chest. Warren felt so awkward standing there. 

He set the gifts down on a chair and walked over to (Y/N). 

“Hi…” No response. “Um, I don’t know if you can hear me… but like, Jubilee and Kurt watch all those soaps and they always have characters talking to people in comas so I figured, maybe, just maybe, you could hear something… anyway, um… I miss you. I really miss you and I wish you’d said something about all this…” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, with homework and chores and training. It’s been driving Kurt crazy that I’m up all the time, but I can’t sleep most nights…”

He paused for a moment, for the thought of, Am I crazy? Flashed through his brain. 

“I got you that fancy water filtered you wanted for Christmas… along with some mollisol soil in a jar…” He huffed in amusement while glancing at the gifts. “Peter made fun of me. He said, “No girl wants a jar of dirt for Christmas.” But I know you’d be happy with it— trying to divide it equally among every plant in your room, your eyes lighting up when you see improvements in them…” Warren looked at (Y/N) and smiled sadly. 

“We haven’t even been dating for a whole year, but it feels like it’s been forever…” His eyes watered and his voice faltered, “And that’s love… Isn’t it?... Everyone tells me something different, but— I think I love you. No— I know I love you. I love you and, and, I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do while you’re here. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see everyone all happy like nothing’s wrong— or Scott kissing Jean when he thinks no one’s looking if I can’t put my arm around you and pull you closer and give him a look that states we’re a cuter couple…” Warren almost laughed at himself. His dumb competition with Scott. 

“I know you’d want me to pretend like nothing’s wrong because it isn’t— but it is… I don’t know what to do…”

-

Kurt knocked on the door of his room the next morning. “Warren! Merry Christmas!” No response. 

“I need to brush my teeth.” Still no answer. 

Kurt opened the door himself, “Warren?” The room was empty. “Where are you?” 

“Hey, Kurt,” Scott peaked in, still in pajamas. “Everything alright?”

“Warren’s gone.” 

“He’s probably downstairs already. Peter and Jubilee are, I bet he’s with them.” 

“Oh. You’re probably right.” Scott bid him goodbye and went to Jean’s room. Kurt still couldn’t get the feeling that Scott was wrong out of his system. 

-

Hank and Alex were headed down to the lab, giggling and acting like kids sneaking around. 

“Alex,” Hank breathed in between laughs, “I just wanna check on (Y/N).” 

“I know,” He managed between the kisses he left all over Hank’s neck. 

“Give me five minutes. Then we can join the others.” 

Alex frowned as Hank opened the door. “I want to be alone with you.” 

“Wasn’t this morning enough?” Hank joked. 

Alex rolled his eyes and hugged Hank from behind. 

Hank smiles and walked into the med Bay Area, where (Y/N) was put. 

He was shocked, to say the least. Alex too. 

“Did he wake her?” Alex whispered. 

“I don’t think so. Her heart rate hasn’t changed.”

Alex gently shook Warren’s shoulder, “Hey, kid, time to get up.” 

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. “Mmmmhmmmggg…” 

“Merry Christmas.” Hank teased as he looked over (Y/N)’s vitals. 

“Shit.” Warren rubbed his eyes, “Did I fall asleep?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When did you come down here? I went upstairs at around eleven.” Hank commented. 

“You got into our room at 11:37 PM.” Alex corrected him. 

“Uhh, I don’t remember…” Warren was too tired to think. He wanted to get something to eat and go back to bed. He didn’t want to see everyone messing around the tree Charles got the younger students to set up. He wanted to go back to sleep right in bed with (Y/N), but he knew Hank wouldn’t let him. 

“Everyone’s upstairs,” Hank said.

“I know,” Warren said back.

Alex was preoccupied with his phone. Scott kept texting him where he was— for being the younger brother, he acted like an older one.

“Look, uh, I don’t want to overstep anything—” Hank said somewhat quietly to Warren. “I know we’re not that close, but—“

Warren shot him down, “I don’t need to talk to anyone. But thanks for the offer, Hank.” 

Hank pushes his glasses up his nose, “No, it’s not that… When Alex was presumed dead, and we found his body and he was in a coma… I was an emotional wreck. I spent all my time down here, worried he’d wake up any second, or never wake up, or wake up and not remember who I am… We weren’t even dating at the time. I was just so heartbroken because I wasted literal decades avoiding him and my feelings and— sorry. Sorry. I got off track… the point is, I get it. I’m not going to judge you for coming down at night to sleep with her.” 

“Just, just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” 

Hank nodded understandingly. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Alex got up and wrapped an arm around Hank. 

“How much I love you,” Hank stated matter of factly. 

Alex chuckled and kissed Hank’s cheek. “Don’t bother him with that. I’m sure Warren doesn’t want to hear you talk about our relationship.” 

“I don’t care,” Warren told him. 

“Still— go upstairs. Scott and Kurt think you got kidnapped or something.” 

“Alright, alright,” Warren had to laugh, “I will.” 

“We’ll meet you up there.” 

Neither of the older men spoke until the door shut. 

“He loves her.” 

“Hmm?” Alex looked at Hank curiously. 

“Warren, he loves (Y/N).” Alex hummed in agreement.

“They’re good for each other.” 

-

Warren walked into the common room while chaos was in full motion. 

Kurt was teleporting from place to place in the room, Ororo was focusing on making it snow outside, surprisingly, Peter was asleep on the couch, and Jean and Scott were cuddled under a blanket by the fireplace, obviously feeling each other up.

“Warren!” Kurt jumped down and landed at his feet. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged, “Workout.” 

“Okay…” Kurt wasn’t convinced, but 

“Hey, Warren! I made these brownies, they’re really good—“ She handed him one. “Here!” 

“Uh, thanks.” He took a bite out of it. Gooey. Rich chocolate flavor. Yet, it also crumbled. Not half bad. 

Warren smiled and nodded, telling Jubilee it was delicious. She was thrilled. 

After a round of greetings to everyone, Warren sat on the couch next to Peter. “There’s a present for you…” He murmured, half asleep.

Warren furrowed his brows and looked at the tree. There was one gift left. The wrapping paper was black, with two silver bows on it. Warren smiled sadly at it, as he held it in his arms.

“Aww… It’s you!” Peter teased. Warren laughed a little, before opening it. 

It was a box. Obviously, not empty. Warren removed the lid and looked through it. Inside was a disposable camera, an empty photo book, and a letter. He grabbed the letter first and read it.

Warren, 

If you’re reading this, I’m either dormant or will be soon. I didn’t tell you anything about it because I’m scared. I’m scared you’d want to break up because I’m not conscious for part of the year. To most people, I’m sure it’d be a major turn off. But as Jubilee sometimes puts it, you’re ‘a little too attached’ to me to break up with me over a long nap. :) Or at least I hope so. 

Anyway, I don’t want you moping over me the whole time, because you’ll just be sad and closed off and lose a lot of progress in your mental health. And I worry about you. I’ll be worrying about you quite a bit while I’m hibernating. 

Uh, I can also hear everything you say to me. In case you wanna chat. I can’t say anything back, but it’s nice to listen. 

I got you the camera and photobook to give you something to do. When I wake up you can catch me up on everything I missed. Take some pictures, save some memes for me, make a playlist of songs you think I’d like, movies I need to watch— Jubilee did it my first year here, and I liked it. I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time sleeping… I sometimes feel that way— I could do schoolwork, or spend time with my plants that still trudge through winter, or hang out with my friends… don’t feel sad, this is a normal bodily function… for me… You’re gonna think it sucks, which is kind of does, but I’ll try to make up for lost time… I love you…

(Y/N)

Warren couldn’t read the last few words, they’d been scratched out. He rubbed his eye, trying not to cry. 

“What’d you get?” Peter asked. 

“Uh, camera… So (Y/N)’s got photos for when she wakes up…”

“Aww…” Peter cooed. “That’s so cute— Hey guys! Let’s get a group photo!”

“Peter, I don’t— I don’t think that’s necessary—” 

“Too bad!” Peter snatched the camera from Warren’s hands and started motioning and yelling at people to get in the frame. “I used to use these all the time as a kid— these little disposable cameras. I loved them!” Peter pressed the button, and a light flashed for a moment. He turned the dial on it and then handed it back to Warren. “You know how to use these, right?” 

“Uh…” 

“Great! You’ve totally got this.” 

Peter was gone in a flash, leaving Warren alone. 

He huffed, what was he really going to do with a camera? He didn’t want to bring his girlfriend up to speed with pop culture and all the drama she missed. He wanted to live through it all with her.

But he couldn’t… 

-

Warren went back downstairs to the lab. Nobody stopped him from leaving or even asked where he was going. It was like he had no value in the group without (Y/N), just someone they tolerated, if that even. 

He wanted to scream, knowing she could hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t find his voice… no words came out… just tears… 

He fell down to the floor and cried. That’s all he could do. 

You’re so weak! Pathetic! You can’t spend a moment away from her and you cry like a fucking baby! You don’t deserve her… 

His sobs were the only things you could hear in the room.

-

New Year’s came and gone. The X-Men threw a party. Warren took a photo since he knew (Y/N) would have wanted to be there. 

He didn’t want to be there. Soon as he took his photo he wanted to leave. He never liked parties, not as a kid, not in Berlin, and not when he came to the mansion— until he started dating (Y/N). 

She got invited to several parties. Some were just dorm get-togethers with different groups of kids, others were house parties from the kids at the public school down the road, some were like this… real parties. She always wanted Warren with her when she went, and he never said no. He didn’t always enjoy them, but he didn’t mind. If (Y/N) had a good time, so did he. 

But here Warren was, moping in the corner of Xavier’s ballroom. 

-

He didn’t leave his room on Valentine’s day, despite still having classes. He trained for three hours a day, not including the group workouts and training required for all members of the X-Men. 

He volunteered to go on more missions. He didn’t want to be stuck in the mansion for more than two days at a time. No one objected, he was a valuable member of the team, and the more experience the better he would get. 

He was to go to London for three weeks with Ororo, Hank, Jean, and Scott.

Jean and Scott were excited because this just meant they’d somehow end up in a hotel room alone together at night, while everyone else was sleeping.

Warren was not too thrilled, as he was jealous. No need to sugarcoat it. Warren was jealous that Scott got Jean all 365 days of the year, that he never had to be away from her for more than a week, that they could flaunt their relationship and how happy they were together. 

It made his stomach churn, but there was nothing he could do. 

-

“I’m going to London for a few days… If I meet Harry Styles I’ll tell him you’re a fan…” (Y/N) laid in bed, lifeless. Warren tucked his hair behind his ears, making a note to get a haircut soon. “I’m going with Scott, Jean, and Ororo…” 

He hated this. He hated talking to her, knowing she could hear him but not say anything back. It was different the few days before Christmas, but now it was all just a mess. 

“Bye.” He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked out. 

One week. 

One week with no cell phones, no homework, nothing. Sure, Warren would probably have to punch a few bad guys, but other than that he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t really care for much anymore. He tried his best to stay engaged and involved, keep himself busy, but it was extremely challenging.

A five-hour flight, with nothing to do.

“You guys excited?” Hank asked.

“Yeah!” 

“Definitely.” 

“I’m hoping I can use some new moves Mystquie’s been teaching me.”

“Mhmm…” Warren mumbled. 

Hank glanced at him. He looked depressing. 

“We’re in London for a week, I bet we’ll have some time to do sightseeing or go out.” 

“Ooo!” Jean nudged Scott. “That’ll be fun, right babe?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah.”

Warren brought Peter’s walkman with him, and put in his earbuds and closed his eyes, assumingly taking a nap.

-

Once they arrived and checked into their rooms, Warren was still tired. He wanted to take another nap. 

“So, I think we should go out tonight—” Hank handed everyone their room keys, “—You guys have been working really hard, and not much praise is given by Alex or Raven, or Erik when he occasionally shows up… but we’re proud of you.” 

“Aww…” “Thanks, Hank…” 

Warren just offered a smile.

“We can unpack and get changed if you guys want, we can go out and get some dinner?”

Everyone thought Hank’s plan was good, and they separated into their rooms.

“You doing okay?” Scott asked while unpacking his bag. 

“Yeah… Why?”

“You didn’t say anything the whole ride here.”

“I took a nap,” Warren unzipped his bag.

“Oh.” 

“I’m not going to unexpectedly burst into tears.” Warren snapped.

“I didn’t say you were—” 

“Everyone thinks I am, I’m not stupid. I know you think I’m emotionally unstable and Hank’s been acting all nice on this mission because of it.” 

“Are you?” 

“What?” 

Scott sat down on his bed, “Are you emotionally unstable?”

Warren glared at him, “I’ve been working my ass off for this mission. I’ve trained longer and harder than anybody else. Do I look unstable to you?” 

“No! I just thought—” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna shower and get dressed for dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

-

Hank had asked the woman at the front desk a good place to eat. She recommended some local place down the road. He rounded up the kids, despite there only being four of them.

“A night out will do us good.” 

“You’ve been saying that,” Warren mumbled. 

“You didn’t have to come you know,” Ororo stated. 

“I have nothing better to do with my time.”

Ororo kept her mouth shut, knowing she could have said something back, but knowing Warren, it was better not to.

-

The restaurant was pretty crowded, despite it being the middle of the week, but the group still managed to get a table. 

Their server was friendly. They got drinks. They ordered their food. 

“You okay, Warren?” Hank noticed he hardly touched his food.

“Mhmm… Just not that hungry. I’ll probably get a box.” 

“Oh, okay,” Hank nodded, a little unsure. 

-

They left the restaurant and went back to the hotel. Warren took his shirt off and laid on his bed. 

“I’m gonna hang out with Jean… You gonna be okay?”

Warren let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, yeah. Go have fun, Cyclops… I’m going to bed.” 

Warren couldn’t sleep. He didn’t really want to. He turned on the tv, trying to find something to watch. 

Someone knocked on the door while he was in the middle of some cooking show. Warren got up and opened his door. “Hey, Ro.” 

“Hey, Jean kicked me out. Wanna go for a swim in the pool?”

“Sure.”

He quickly got changed and followed Ororo downstairs.

The got into the elevator and were quiet at first.

“I think they have a hot tub.”

“Cool.” 

Ororo glanced at Warren and sighed. “I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

He nodded, “I know.” 

“For real. You’re allowed to talk about your feelings.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ororo sighed, “Warren…” 

 He looked back at her. “I want this all to be over.”  

“(Y/N)—”

“It’s not fair! Everyone in my life has left me or used me somehow— and I know she’s different, but it’s not fair! I was so happy with her and—” 

The elevator stopped. It wasn’t their floor. The doors opened the reveal a young woman. She had a familiar glow to her and leaves in her hair. 

Warren looked at her, feeling lightheaded at seeing her.

“(Y/N)?”

-

Warren woke up in his hotel bed. He wasn’t sure how he got there. He didn’t even remember going to the pool with Ororo. All he could remember was her. 

(Y/N).

He looked over to his left and saw Scott peacefully asleep in his bed, sleep mask on and everything. The TV was off, and so were all the lights. Warren couldn’t go back to bed, it wasn’t an option. 

He quietly got out of bed and slipped on his shoes, slowly opening the door, as to not wake Scott.

He went out to the halls. He had no plan, no idea where he was going, but he needed to get out. 

He walked around, lost in the halls late at night. He wasn’t tired, but he was upset. He didn’t want to keep crying, he didn’t want to be so dependent on (Y/N), but without her— 

The sound of thunder interrupted his thoughts. He looked outside and saw it was raining. It reminded him of (Y/N)— without her, all it did was rain and snow. 

-

Hank said they were looking for someone. Someone Xaiver wanted to bring back to the mansion. This type of mission was more stealth and would require little physical fighting. 

Hank got told from an anonymous source she’d be at some socialite gathering.

“Scott, Jean, you’re going to pretend to be some young, rich, American couple. Get in there, find our target, and get her alone. Convince her to come back with us if that doesn’t work let us know on the comms.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“Her name is Betsy Braddock—” Hank pulled up a file with all her information on his tablet. 

“What does Xavier want with her?” Warren asked, anger rising in his tone. 

Betsy… She left him to die in Egypt. She got him wrapped up in the Apocalypse cult nonsense. He didn’t want to see her again, he didn’t want to see her ever. 

“She knows something about the attacks in Italy we dealt with around Christmas, plus she’s somewhat telepathic… I know your past with her is messy, but—”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” Everyone looked at Warren, surprised at his statement. 

“Alright. You guys know what to do— Jean, Scott, get dressed and ready for the party. I’ll get you an uber— Ororo, Warren, You guys are going to a hideout location not far from the location of the party, in case backup is needed. I’m going to stay and operate things here. 

-

The first few hours of the mission went as expected. Jean and Scott made small talk with people, trying to find Betsy. 

Warren didn’t want to see her, or more, he didn’t want her to see him in his current emotional state. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. He argued and insisted on joining this mission, and now he could see why Xavier was hesitant to let him go.

“I see her,” Jean said. “She’s not with anyone.” 

Jean’s earpiece was quiet after that. 

Warren and Ororo sat there for what felt like forever. Jean and Scott talked occasionally, but it was never directly to them. 

The young couple eventually lured Betsy into an empty room.

“You didn’t really bring me up here to sleep with me, did you?” She asked, messing with her hair in the slight reflection from a window. 

Jean shook her head, “No. But we want you to come back with us… You’ve heard of Charles Xavier…” 

Betsy nodded. 

“He wants you to help him with the attacks on the mutant community in southern Italy.” 

“What will he give me in return?” Scott and Jean exchanged a quick glance. They weren’t exactly sure. 

Scott’s voice faltered slightly, “You can…”

Jean finished his sentence. “—You can discuss that with him when we get to New York.” 

Betsy turned her head to look at them, “And what if I say no?”

“We’ll chase you down until you do,” Scott stated with more confidence than before.

“Alright. I’ll go with you.” 

-

Betsy had no idea Warren was in London, or even alive for that matter. Warren had no idea how she was going to react, and he didn’t really want to find out. 

But he didn’t really have an option. 

“Give us time to pack up and we can leave for Westchester,” Jean explained in the ride back to the hotel. 

“Who else is with you?” 

“Dr. McCoy is back at the hotel, and Ororo and Warren should be there too.” Betsy’s expression changed. “You probably know them as—”

“I know exactly who they are. I thought Warren died…”

Scott shook his head, “Nope. He’s doing great.” Scott blinked away the uncertainty hidden behind his words. 

Betsy nodded, unsure what to say. She thought about maybe jumping out of the car, and never seeing these people again. She knew Warren would be angry when he saw her. She couldn’t blame him. 

“He’s not upset with you…” Betsy looked at Jean, a bit shocked. “He’s hurting from something else… Don’t ask about it… just trust me...” 

“Easy for you to say.” Betsy scoffed.

Jean shook her head, “You’ll see…”

“We’re here.” The driver stopped the car and the three got out. 

Betsy looked up at the hotel the group was staying at, “Nice place.” 

They walked in and headed to the nearest elevator. Jean was fidgeting with the comm in her ear. 

“We got back about twenty minutes ago,” Ororo said.

“We’re on our way to our rooms,” Jean replied.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was at the destined floor.

-

They packed up quickly, and stood out in the hall, bags in hand. 

Hank introduced himself to Betsy. Her response was short, she was preoccupied with her ex-boyfriend standing less than five feet away from her. 

“Hi.”

He looked sad and more tired than usual. Seeing him sober was mind-blowing to Betsy, but people change. She hadn’t seen him in a few years— sure they saw each other during the Apocalypse incident, but that was a few days— she was really going to see him this time. 

He didn’t respond to her. She frowned. 

The plane ride was long and tedious. Betsy had nothing to do and wanted nothing more than to leave. So, she decided to try and talk to Warren again.

“Hey.” He turned his head around best he could and looked at Betsy questioningly. She nodded. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Warren wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk.

“Cool… Cool…” 

There was a pause before Warren spoke up, “Do you need anything?” 

“Just wanted to talk…” 

“You have other options.” 

Betsy rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t really wanna talk to you right now… And I don’t need you poking around in my head either.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” She said calmly. 

Warren didn’t respond. Betsy sighed, he was useless. Warren wasn’t going to talk even if she forced him. And she couldn’t really blame him, but she had a lingering feeling in her stomach. 

Probably just my dinner digesting… 

-

At some point, Betsy fell asleep, for when the plane landed Hank had to wake her up. She rubbed her eyes and undid her seatbelt. 

“Do we have to go through security again?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, we left the country,” Hank told him while glancing at his watch.

Scott was not too thrilled. Everyone was tired to some degree. It was extremely late, and they went back a few hours due to the time zone.

“It won’t be that long. There’s hardly anyone here.” 

Everyone went through security and headed to the baggage claim to get their stuff. 

Jean was the first to get her suitcase— a medium-sized, teal one— Warren was next, and his was all black, to no one’s surprise, but the nametag on it looked drastic tied to the handle. 

It was clear, with glitter and flowers trapped inside it. It didn’t seem like Warren at all to Betsy, but what did she know? 

-

Hank took Betsy to an empty room and told her she could sleep there for the time being. She set her bags on the floor and looked around. There was a dated-looking wallpaper upon the walls, and the bed took up a little under half of the room. 

It was alright. 

Betsy rummaged through her bag for some pajamas when she heard footsteps. 

Hank had left almost immediately after he showed her the room, so it couldn’t be him. She opened the door only to see Warren walking down the hall. She quietly followed him, staying several steps behind. 

He went down to the main floor, and even further down into the basement. 

This place is huge! Betsy said to herself. 

The basement looked different from the rest of the mansion, for the walls and floor were made of metal. 

Warren turned right, into a room within the basement. Betsy held her breath as she got closer. 

What is he doing down here?

Betsy caught sight of a girl laying in a hospital bed. Warren sat down next to her and started talking… 

That’s why he’s on edge…  Betsy had accidentally bumped into something, making a loud noise. 

Warren shot up, “Who’s there?” 

Betsy tried to sneak out, but Warren caught her.

“Betsy!” 

She froze. 

“Why were you following me?”

“Why are you visiting a coma patient at three in the morning?” She asked back.

“She’s my girlfriend.” 

“I mean I figured as much—”

“So leave.” He cut her off and was sharp. “Please…” He pleaded more in his last word.

She looked at her unconscious figure, “I could help…” 

“No,” He was stern.

“I could—” “—You’d kill her.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” She defended.

“Yeah, you would. Her mutation makes her basically hibernate until March, so she’s fine.”

“I could still help— I’ve helped you before…”

“No, you didn’t! You were constantly going in and out of my life whenever it was convenient for you and came back when I didn’t need you too! You— you ruined my life!”

Betsy felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

“Look…” Warren sighed.  “Betsy… I’m sorry. I don’t want your help… I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Betsy nodded, she knew Warren wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“Okay.” 

“What?”

“I won’t help you.” She left the medical room, leaving Warren alone with his thoughts.

-

Over the next few days, Betsy accommodated herself to the mansion, giving Xavier the information he wanted, and exploring the grounds. 

She was almost always accompanied by Jubilee, per some people’s request, seeing as her past wasn’t spotless. 

Jubilee was full of energy, and always willing to tell Betsy whatever she asked about. 

“Who’s Warren’s girlfriend?”

“Her name is (Y/N). She controls plants. She can also grow them from her body. And her eyes change color based on her mood… She’s uh, she’s not around at the moment, but that’s not important.” 

Betsy nodded along as Jubilee spoke. “Is he happy?” 

“Do you miss him?” 

Betsy struggled to let out a straight answer, “No— ugh— I just— I ruined his life.” 

“You didn’t ruin his life!” Betsy glared at her. “Okay, okay, maybe you kind of did ruin his life, but he’s fine now. He’s just a little on edge you’re here and (Y/N) isn’t.” 

“I don’t need to stay here—” 

“Bullshit!” Jubilee exclaimed.  “You’ve got nowhere else to go, really.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

-

Betsy was rarely ever alone. She was too busy helping the X-Men. 

She had a few moments to herself though. She was never sure what to do. She couldn’t just up and leave and go out to some bar and sulk in a corner and come back drunk and angry— that’d paint her as extremely irresponsible. She didn’t want to bore or impose on the X-Men if she didn’t have to. 

She wandered around the mansion. It was massive and somewhat old and stuffy looking, but also gave off those classic school vibes.

Betsy wandered into the basement at some point and quickly learned, that was where the X-Men trained, made battle and mission plans, stored their jet, Hank worked on costumes and more in his lab, and where their medical bay was kept. 

She knew she shouldn’t be down there alone. Betsy wasn’t going to do anything bad, but it felt wrong. 

She was watching a girl in a coma sleep. There were so many things wrong about that. 

Of course, no one would really care, except for maybe Warren— but he had every good reason to.

“You keep visiting me.” 

Betsy almost jumped. The voice had startled her. She thought she was alone. 

“Jean?” But didn’t sound like Jean. Betsy couldn’t decipher who it was. 

She sat there for another thirty minutes, hoping the voice would return, but it didn’t. 

So she got up and left. 

It was probably just a student. My telepathic abilities aren’t the strongest. It was probably just a student somewhere on the grounds…

She didn’t tell anyone about the voice. She didn’t want to seem crazy, because it probably didn’t mean anything. 

-

“Hey,  guys! I found this on my google drive! It’s a bunch of videos from Xavier’s fourth of July party!” Peter had his laptop open at a table, with a few papers spread about. 

Everyone, including Betsy, gathered around Peter as he played a few video clips.

It was Warren, Peter, Scott, and (Y/N) all together in the first one. They were walking in a parking lot with shopping bags in their hands. 

“We just spent—” Peter cut Warren off.

“We just spent $2,000 on fireworks! Holy fuck!” Everyone else is laughing at his enthusiasm. 

“Can’t Jubilee just produce fireworks? Why did we need this many anyway?” 

“It’s for the American aesthetic, (Y/N)!” 

They got into the car and Peter was still recording. 

“Weren’t you born in Poland or something?” 

“America was founded on immigration—”

The clip was cut off, and the next one played automatically. But Betsy remembered the voice. The female one. It was like the one she heard in the basement… was (Y/N) trying to contact her?

She tried to focus as the next few clips played, she needed to hear (Y/N)’s voice again.

“Kurt, look—” Peter was still recording with his smartphone, he had zoomed in on a darker part of Xavier’s. It was a tree, and two people were leaning up against it— clearly making out. 

“Jean told me she went to get more popsicles!” Kurt whined. 

Everyone watching was laughing, except for Scott and Jean, who were extremely embarrassed they got caught. 

“You ain’t slick, Summers.”

“Shut up.” 

Footsteps could be heard. “What are we doing?” (Y/N) asked.

“Look—” Kurt motioned to the couple at the tree. 

“Oh, gross. They don’t even know we’re watching! And to think… Warren went inside to see what Jean was doing…”

“Well, he won’t find out,” Kurt joked. 

Betsy knew she heard (Y/N) voice in the basement… but why? Was she a ghost? Did her unconscious state allow her to communicate telepathically? 

She needed to go back there, alone, but she knew that was almost impossible. Hank was almost always down in the lab, and Warren was almost always visiting (Y/N). 

-

That didn’t really matter to her. Betsy needed to talk to her or hear her voice again. She thought about asking Jean, but she thought that would be fruitless. 

She went to visit (Y/N) again, but this time she spoke to her. 

“Can you hear me?” 

No response. 

“My name is Betsy Braddock. I know who you are and I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Betsy huffed, “This is stupid!” She got up and began to walk out. 

“Wait!” Betsy froze. (Y/N) said something. “You keep visiting me…”

“I’m just curious about you,” Betsy responded.

“Why?” 

“I don’t know I—” 

“Betsy?” Warren’s voice was stern and almost angry. “What are you doing here?”

“I can hear her. Like, with my abilities… I know you didn’t really want me down here and I understand—”

“Then why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see if I could communicate with her telepathically…” She admitted.  “That’s all. I’m not trying to wake her or anything.” 

“I’m sorry… but I can hear people and it’s nice to have someone who can hear me back…” 

Betsy, plagued with guilt, looked over at (Y/N), whos lifeless form hadn’t changed a bit, despite the obvious sadness in her words.

“I just feel, so bad and I don’t know why and… I ruined your life. There’s no shortcut, without me you would have left the fighting ring in less than three weeks… You’d have your feathery wings still… but I loved you and I couldn’t let go, and I thought bringing Apocalypse to you would make up for all the shit I did…” 

“I was a kid. I didn’t even know what love meant! And I’m not avoiding you on purpose, I don’t resent you as much as I did when I first came here… but I don’t know what you want, okay? Our lives aren’t connected anymore, and I just want (Y/N) back...” Warren was biting down on his lip to keep himself from breaking down crying. 

“Tell him I’m sorry.” 

“(Y/N) said she’s sorry…” 

Warren’s gaze shifted between the two girls. 

“Why is she sorry?”

“All I’ve done since Christmas is make him unhappy and upset. He deserves someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.”

“She said, you deserve someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.” 

Warren walked over to (Y/N)’s body, he held her hand in his. “It’s not about what I may or may not deserve. It’s about what I want and love.” 

“I love him…” 

Betsy was about to repeat what she said, but Warren was crying. He had let a single tear drip down. 

It landed on (Y/N)’s hand. And soon as it did, her eyes flew open. 

-

She was gasping for air, eyes squinting up at the fluorescent lights. (Y/N) heard voices. 

“She’s awake…” 

“It’s almost March, that might be too early—“

“—I’ll be fine,” (Y/N) interrupted. She rubbed her eyes and turned her eyes away from the lights, looking over at Warren, who was at her side, tears in his eyes. 

“Betsy, go get Hank.” He instructed. Warren looked back at (Y/N), holding her hand in his, and his other cupping her cheek. 

“Hi.” She murmured in a groggy tone. 

“Hi.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” Warren was perplexed. “What for?” 

“I couldn’t stay awake, and I hurt you, Warren. I made you cry and think you weren’t good enough for me…” She snuffled her nose. 

“That’s bullshit. You could never hurt me. I was crying because I couldn’t do anything. The last time I saw you was before I went to Italy on some dumb mission— I missed you… I missed your smile, I missed how you’d make flower crowns and put them on my head, how I could go to you after a nightmare no matter what time of night it was, or how you told me I helped you become more assertive and learn it’s okay to say no, or you showing me the beauty in everything— I…” His voice was breaking, but all (Y/N) could see in his eyes was happiness.  “I can’t live without you… I love you.”

“Oh, Warren, baby…” She squeezed his hand. 

Warren cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. 

That one kiss said everything he wanted to say. It let out his feelings. It had passion and swiftness backing it up, followed by his undying love for (Y/N). 

She kissed him back, trying to make up for the time they’ve lost. Her lips fit prefectures against his. 

It was like the first time they kissed, full of everything she wanted, except much longer, with more meaning to it. 

They broke apart slowly, almost as if they didn’t want to. 

“I love you too…” She murmured.

#warren worthington iii x reader #x-men x reader #warren worthington x reader #warren x reader #warren worthington iii #warren worthington #angel x reader #archangel #archangel x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #x-men spinoff #ben jones #angel #ben jones x reader

[lailannajacobs]

Straight, No Chaser

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Request: Hello There! May I Please Request A Fluff Where Loki Just Loves When Reader Plays With His Hair??

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: nothing but fluff! 

A/N: Thank you for this request my lovely anon! I know it may not be exactly what you had hoped, I kinda ran with it in a very different direction than I had initially thought (I blame the episode of b99 I watched at the time that kind of inspired it) but I really hope you enjoy, I’d love to know what you think regardless!! <3 

“Explain to me again,” You demanded, your hands planted firmly on your hips, “how I got paired with you for this mission?”

Loki looked down at you, a roguish grin on his lips. He had skirted your question the first time you had asked before leaving and it looked like he wasn’t going to tell you now, outside of the restaurant either. It didn’t really matter. You were pretty sure you knew the answer. He had probably done it just to piss you off. Even if he hadn’t, you knew he’d end up annoying the hell out of you tonight, regardless. It was inevitable. It had been that way from your first day as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and hadn’t changed in the last three years.

“You’d better not mess this up,” You warned, double checking your makeup in a parked car’s passenger window.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawled, “I can blend in quite well with mortals.”

You scoffed and turned back to face him, “Yeah, because calling us mortals is exactly what a regular human being would do.”

“Who says I have to be regular? Can’t I be an above average human being?” He raised his brow, looking as far from innocent as possible.

You smacked his arm, your irritation growing, “I do. We’re supposed to blend in, not attract attention.”

“If that’s what you wish,” He sighed dramatically, “I’ll be as mind-numbingly boring as possible. I can remind you of every other goody-two-shoes agent in the compound.”

“I was supposed to do this with Scott.” You grumbled, glancing at your watch.

Although you didn’t see Scott all that often at the compound, whenever you interacted with him you always found yourself having a good time. He was easy going and nonthreatening, which was exactly the partner you needed for this mission. Not the god of mischief.

“I can make that happen if you’d like” He crooned.

Loki began to shimmer, but you stopped him with a hand to his arm, “No. You know how much I hate it when you do that. It creeps me out.”  

He chuckled, “I knew you preferred to do this with me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Think what you will, as long as we get this to work. God knows how that’s actually going to happen now that you’re here.”

“I’m a capable agent,” he paused, his lips twisting into a smirk, “I’m sure we’ll think of a way to pretend we’re madly in love.”

You glared at him, “It’ll definitely be a test of my skills, that’s for sure.”

“When is this terrifying mobster supposed to arrive, anyhow?” Loki’s cunning eyes scanned the busy street.

“Soon.” You snapped, hoping he would stop talking.

For the past three months you had been working an undercover job, trying to determine if Hydra was running a black-market arms deals through the Genovese crime family. Although it was beginning to look more and more like Hydra wasn’t actually involved, you had finally worked your way up to a private dinner with the head of the family, Liborio Bellamo, and you weren’t about to skip on an opportunity for intel. The whole bringing a date thing was only a ploy to make your clandestine meeting look less suspicious to any street cops that were currently investigating Bellamo. When Loki had shown up to meet you instead of Scott, you had begun to wonder if there was any way you could do this alone instead. Scott would have been a great, oblivious civilian and the perfect con-man to bring along.

Loki, leaning up against a street post, had the look of a predator seconds away from pouncing, which looked nothing like the date she had promised to bring. He radiated power and mischief. He was a wild card that could turn a game the moment he flipped, and you would never have brought him along if you had been given any sort of warning.

Your eyes met his for an instant and he flashed you a smug grin as if reminding you that no, you couldn’t do this alone. You were stuck with him.

“Do you live to make everyone’s life miserable?” You sighed, wondering where the hell Bellamo and his wife were.

He furrowed his brows, pretending to be disappointed by your question, “I only live to create a little chaos. It isn’t my fault it makes you miserable.”

“Well that’s a load of - Bellamo.” You nodded respectfully at the approaching mob boss, hoping he had been too far away to hear your conversation with Loki.

“(y/n), I see you’re early, as usual.” Although there wasn’t much emotion in his face, you could tell he was pleased.

“I wouldn’t be late to a dinner in the best restaurant New York.”

He laughed, “Nobody wants t’be late to cousin Benny’s cookin. Have you met my beautiful wife, Isabella?”

You extended your hand, “No, I don’t believe we’ve met. It’s a pleasure.”

She smiled and shook your hand, her permed hair not moving an inch. “Pleasure’s all mine darlin. Libby here has been talkin all about his newest protege.”

“You must be Tom.” Bellamo’s voice had the same hard edge you noticed he used with threats, as he turned his attention to Loki.

Loki, who had been watching the whole interaction silently with his hands stuffed into his dark dress pants, barely managed to take one hand out. You wanted to shake him. His bored and jaded attitude was only going to piss Bellamo off, and as they clasped hands, locking into an intense staring contest, you felt yourself begin to bubble up with anger. He was going to ruin everything before you even entered the restaurant, getting you killed in the process. Who the hell had signed off on Loki going on this mission with you?

“Nice to meet you, Bellamo.” He crooned, his voice taunting. You hoped that only you could recognize the sass because of your years of knowing the god.

Bellamo didn’t respond, holding on a second too long before taking his hand back. Instead of putting his hand back in his pocket though, Loki wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. Bellamo glanced between the two of you and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a way that you had learned to fear. You might have been a capable agent, but when you saw that look in the boss’s eye, it made you feel like he had the upper hand. That wasn’t something you wanted to let happen.

“Shall we?” He asked, offering his arm for his wife to take.

You nodded, “Absolutely, my stomach is growling in anticipation.”

Bellamo and his wife led the way and you followed, Loki’s arm still tight around your waist.

“What the hell was that?” You whispered angrily, “You can take your hand off now.”

His dipped his head, his breath tickling your ear, “If I take my hand off now, it won’t be convincing, and that’s what I was doing, darling, being convincing.”

You put a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “No, that’s not what you were doing. It looked like you were about to pick a fight with him.”

“I was simply letting him know that you don’t spend time with someone who can’t hold their own,” his hand slipped from his pocket and clasped yours, bringing it up to his lips for a fluttering second, “You’re going to need to trust me. I am on this date for a reason.”

“A reason you still won’t tell me.” You tried to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but around Loki, you had never been successful at it. It was like he could get your blood pumping without even trying.

He was right though. You were supposed to be on a double date, which meant not stopping randomly on your way to the table to argue with him. You forced a smile through gritted teeth and hoped that this evening wouldn’t result in your cover being blown or worse, your death. At least Loki’s grip had loosened, and his arm was draped around you instead of keeping you tucked in tightly at his side.

Before you started walking again, you looked up - annoyed that you were standing so close that you had to crane your neck if you wanted to look into his eyes - and warned, “This is important. He should be meeting with an important buyer tonight and I need to get a good look to be able to ID whether or not he’s Hydra. Mess this up and-”

“And what, darling? What is it that you think you can do to me?” He asked, brow raised.

“You don’t want to find out,” you snarled, dragging him along with you, “Now lets go pretend like we don’t drive each other crazy.”

His voice was barely audible when he whispered, “I don’t think that’ll be possible.”

Glancing up at him, you barely managed to catch a glimpse of a strange look on his face before he shot you a roguish grin. You rolled your eyes in response.

“I took the liberty of orderin’ a bottle of the house wine,” Bellamo said when you sat down at the table, “better than anythin’ you’s ever tasted in any of those fancy, fake Italian restaurants downtown.”

You smiled, “That, I don’t doubt.”

After the waiter poured everyone a glass, Isabella smiled at you, “So how long have you two been together?”

“I don’t know, what is it now?” You glanced up Loki, “It feels like it’s been forever.”

He smirked, “You know, even forever wouldn’t be enough time with you. But I believe it’s three years now.”

You almost rolled your eyes at his cheesy line, but instead pretended to be taken in by his words. You just hoped that you were faking it well.

Isabella smiled, “Ain’t that sweet. And how did you meet?”

“We actually met when I was still small time,” You grinned, “I had stolen his watch right off of him and he didn’t even notice.”

“I did get it back.” Loki interrupted, lifting his wrist to show a watch that probably hadn’t been there mere seconds ago.

“It took you long enough.”

“Three blocks, I believe?”

You stopped knowing he wasn’t going to back down. As much as you wanted to make him look less skilled than he actually was, he wasn’t going to let you even if it cost you the mission. He was playing a game of chicken that he knew he was going to win. He didn’t care about the job. He didn’t care about anything or anyone here. You knew that and he knew that you knew that, which meant that if the two of you were going to keep adding details to the story like a Jenga tower, the whole thing was bound to fall over sooner than later.

“How’d you know it was her?” Bellamo asked, his eyes darting between the two of you with interest.

You were about to answer for him, knowing that the calculating look in Bellamo’s eyes was more dangerous than Loki could ever realize, but he beat you to it.

“When someone this beautiful runs into you, it’s incredibly difficult to forget their face.”

Bellamo leaned back in his chair, “Seems unlikely that you’d suspect her then.”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. He was asking too many questions. Either you weren’t doing a good enough job at pretending you were really a couple, or he had gotten word that you weren’t who you said you were. There wasn’t much you could do about the latter if it came down to it except hope that Loki would have your back. But you also knew there wouldn’t be any harm in strengthening the act.

Loki was part way through his explanation when you wove your hand around the back of his chair, rested your arm on his shoulder and began mindlessly playing with his hair at the base of his neck. The movement seemed to startle him for a moment, but he recovered quickly, the pause in his words barely noticeable.

Isabella, noticing your contact, snuggled in a little closer to Bellamo in the booth. You shot her a smile that she returned, but you could tell she was distracted. You hadn’t thought she was involved in Bellamo’s operations, but the way she scanned the restaurant suggested otherwise. A thought took seed. Maybe that was why you had never found any connection between Bellamo and Hydra…maybe it had nothing to do with his operation at all.

You tugged gently on a dark strand of hair before raking your nails from the nap of his neck up and he shivered. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you were pretty sure his head was becoming heavier in your hand the longer you played in his hair.

The waiter came back with a refill for your wine, and to take your orders. You were about to stop and reach for your glass of wine, but his hand looped back behind his head and his long fingers wrapped around yours.

“I think you can reach your glass with your other hand.” His voice was low and throaty.

You looked into his emerald eyes, darkened by the size of his pupils, “Why?”

He blinked slowly and for a second you were pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer but then his gaze slid toward your guests and you had your answer. His grip lessened but you left your fingers where they were, choosing to weave your fingers further through his hair instead. It was true that Isabella has seemed more convinced by your act because of the physical affection, and you were glad that Loki had picked up on it. You still wished it had been Scott with you instead, but at least Loki was doing his job.

You reached for your glass and brought it to your lips when Loki’s fingers began to play along your thigh. Instinctively, you wanted to glare at him and shove his hand off, but there was no way to do that without drawing suspicion to yourself. Instead, you let his fingers create a trail of goosebumps in their wake until you shivered involuntarily. You were so annoyed with Loki and distracted by the sensation of his rough fingertips on your thigh, you couldn’t even tell what the conversation was about anymore. At least no one seemed to notice. The only reason you realized Isabella was talking to you was because she had said your name before asking if you were interested in joining her at the hair salon tomorrow.

You answered enthusiastically, knowing that would be the perfect opportunity to see if your new theory had any sort of credibility.

The meal continued seamlessly until dessert, when Isabella excused herself to go to the bathroom. You almost suggested you go with her, but you didn’t want her suspecting anything yet. You were starting to get antsy. Nothing had happened tonight despite the fact that you knew there was supposed to be a arms deal going down. If Bellamo had been in charge of it, you would have seen something suspicious happen already, right?

Suddenly, shouting pierced the low drone of the bland music that had been playing all night. All eyes turned to one of the front tables where a man stood, shouting at his wife about her getting close to their therapist. Bellamo stood instantly, striding over to the couple with dangerous purpose. The man, as if sensing the wrath coming his way, cowed instantly at Bellamo’s approach. They talked in hushed tones, which only captured the crowd’s attention more than the shouting had. The man pulled out a wad of bills, slammed them on the table and strode over to the exit, leaving the woman there. Bellamo called over a waiter and they discussed for a moment, probably offering the woman a free dessert.

A hand on your bicep startled you, and you turned your attention back to Loki, but, he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were scanning the rest of the room, looking for someone. His relaxed posture might have fooled most people, but you recognized the intelligence and focus in his eyes.  

“I don’t believe misdirection is only a magician’s trick.” He murmured, seconds before Bellamo returned.

“Some people.” Bellamo muttered, taking a seat and signalling for another drink.

“Not everyone who comes to eat at classy restaurants are classy.” You said, trying to gauge his reaction to the event.

He nodded, “Unfortunately, there’s nothin’ we can do ‘bout it.”

A few minutes later, Isabella returned, a fresh coat of lipstick on her lips, “I heard shouting while I was in the bathroom. Is everything alright?”

Her eyes were wide, but you weren’t sure you believed the look on her face. She seemed sincere, but the kitchen was so close to the bathroom, that the noise should have drowned out anything happened out here. You stared, hoping to find some chink in her expression. Loki’s arm around your shoulder snapped you out of your intense observing before Isabella could realize you were analyzing her. You snuggled in a little closer, glancing up at Loki. He smirked, the focused and attentive look vanished from his face. Instead, he wore a flirtatious look that almost convinced you if you hadn’t known it was all part of your act.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered.

“You’re an ass.” You whispered just as softly so that only he could hear.

The rest of the night passed by uneventfully and when you were standing outside, Loki’s arm wrapped around your side to keep you close, you were thankful you had made it through the night.

“We should do this again next week!” Isabella suggested, seeming excited by the prospect.

As much as you wanted to be done with this mission, you nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely. You know how to reach me.”

Bellamo extended his hand, “It was nice to meet you, Tom. (y/n), I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You gave him a curt nod and watched as they walked off. When they were out of sight, you let out a long, relieved sigh and stepped away from Loki. Cold air hit you instantly, making you realize how much Loki had been shielding you from the cold.

He flagged down a cab and glanced back at you, noticing that you were rubbing your arms to keep warm.

He raised a brow, “Cold?”

“What do you think?” You spat, knowing you no longer had to be nice to him.

He grinned, readjusting his folded suit jacket in his arms, “Maybe you should have brought a jacket.”

You rolled your eyes.

He opened the cab door, stepped aside and motioned for you to get in. You glared and were answered with a small, irritating chuckle.

After giving the driver the address, you rode in silence, keeping your attention everywhere but on Loki. You noticed the shimmer of magic surrounding the back of the cab and you looked instinctively to your own body but didn’t see anything different. You couldn’t be sure what the driver was seeing or hearing, but you knew it wasn’t anything Loki didn’t want him to.

“I suspect the wife.”

You looked over at him, surprised by the seriousness in his face, “I was thinking the same thing. Do you think Bellamo knows?”

Loki shook his head, “If he suspects anything, he is a master at playing the idiot.”

“Playing dumb.” You corrected.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll learn more tomorrow, hopefully.”

“If you don’t,” He murmured, eyes alight with mischief, “There’s always our next double date for you to corner her in the bathroom and figure out her dark and dirty secrets.”

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed, turning away to look out the window.

The sound of his chuckle filled the cab and the shimmering magic vanished as you neared the rendezvous point that would eventually get you back to the comfort of the compound.

#loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #loki x reader #reader insert

[moved--accs]

[repost] glowing | lee know.

You know that your feelings for Lee Minho were past a simple crush at this point–you really couldn’t bring yourself to date other people without the constant thought that they’re not him haunting your mind. But somewhere between sly smirks and stolen glances, you knew he was intrested in you too. You also knew your brother would absolutely hate seeing his little sister with one of his best friends, but Minho won’t tell if you don’t.

Best friend’s brother!Minho, female reader. ~8.2k words.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), very slight dom!minho i guess, one thigh slap, minho spits in reader’s mouth (i’m sorry), penetration, squirting and unprotected sex. MDNI.

Author’s note: this was requested by cait !! i love you cait !! tysm for sticking around for so long, it means the world to me <333 i really don’t know how i feel about this one since it’s my longest oneshot yet, but i hope everyone enjoys it :) also, if you like listening to music while reading, bad idea by ariana grande really helped me settle the mood for this. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

To you, Minho is a force of nature. His stance alone demands attention in every room he walks into: sharp and seemingly judgy eyes tear people apart in the matter of a milisecond, then a sudden shift of countenance would offer a sweet, charming smile at them. But never to you. He carries a couple of years more than you on his back, experience and maturity seem to bleed through every interaction you have–promptly, and unknowingly, putting you in your place whenever you two exchange a simple, two-second glance with each other.

To you, Minho is magnetic. It seemed to be a shared secret, those glances you stole from each other. You only ever were in the same space when your older brother called his friends over, half a dozen bodies always in the way of your favorite activity–catch him looking. The way he never shied away always made you shiver. You tell yourself you broke eye contact so quickly because you were afraid someone would catch on to this ongoing staring contest, but really, you don't think you can handle to watch the smirk grow on his lips without tripping over nothing. Minho never smiled at you. It was never sweet–every single time he acknowledged you felt like a dare. With avoidant eyes and shaky hands, you played into every single one of them.

"I can drive her, man. It's no big deal." He told your brother–who was locking your home's door behind him–but his eyes didn't leave yours.

Your brother often invited you to hang out with his friends, so when he randomly showed up in your room asking if you'd like to join them for a night out, you had no reason to say no. The thing is: all the seats in your brother's car were already taken by his girlfriend and her friends, who were currently already getting comfortable in his vehicle. Minho's eyes are locked in yours, his black hair glistening blue in the moonlight making him look a bit more intimidating, much more inviting. The smirk in his lips is a telltale–as if he's challenging you to say no. You could get an Uber to the party–you know that–or you could simply tell your brother to politely ask one of his partner's friends to find another ride. Maybe that would come off as a bit rude, but you know he'd do it for you. You could even sit in one of the girls' laps, that's not unusual. He knows that, and he's looking at you as if your head is transparent, and he can see all of the cogs putting in the work.

"Are you sure? GPS is saying it's kind of a long drive, and I know you'll want to drink when we get there."

"I'm fine with taking her. As long as she doesn't prefer getting an Uber or something." Minho says, turning to your brother for a brief moment, "It's up to her, really."

Forty minutes is not that long, but you know it would feel like ages.

"What do you say?" Your brother turns to you.

You've never been fully alone with him before, jumping from that to spending such long time by yourselves, in his car, seems suffocating. Too secluded. Too private. You feel the familiar shaking in your hands as they run down your skirt, straightening them.

"Fine by me."

You know you're staring–for some reason, you don't mind. Minho's eyes are focused on the road before you, midnight blue hair split in the middle, giving him a much bolder look than his usual fluffy bangs. The reflection of the city lights make his skin glow–iridescent glimmers of yellow, white and green paint his face–allowing you to get a full glimpse of his expression only for brief seconds.

He doesn't mind that you're staring either–his eyes find yours in a quick shift, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You're not that bold when your brother's around."

You can feel your stomach turning. Straight to the point, then.

"Neither are you."

The man scoffs, looking out the window before replying. "You wouldn't be either if you heard how protective he is over you."

"I'm grown."

His head fully turns to you for the first time throughout this exchange, the empty road before him forgotten for a couple seconds. Minho's eyes shamelessly linger on your thighs as they travel up your body, until his gaze meets yours. He clicks his tongue, smirk growing on his lips right before his attention turns back to the road. "I can see that."

Effective as always, the words start fumbling in your brain as you struggle to form a coherent thought–you had to talk back. Anything.

"You're always staring at me. When you come over." Your voice is so quiet you wonder if he can hear you over the hum of wheels against concrete.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply immediately, looking at him. "not at all."

He nods, humming. "Do you like how I look at you?"

Minho seems nonchalant, but also a bit expectant. The butterflies in your stomach seem like they won't allow you to answer nothing as witty as you had hoped.

"I do. You can... keep doing that."

He quickly looks at you again, smiling. "I can?" The car feels airtight after the next words lowly leave his lips. "Would you mind if I did something other than just look?"

Careful, quiet, expectant. If you stroke a match, the whole car would light on fire. "Weren't you worried about my brother?"

Your eyes are focused on the road, but you can hear the click of his tongue, "I won't tell if you don't."

The music is loud, and although enjoyable, you really can't bring yourself to focus on the party. The culprit was quick to lose you as soon as you both got to your destination, letting you know he was looking for your older brother. It seemed as if the group had gotten completely lost within the drunk crowd, and you were putting on an effort to not care about his absence, what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. But still, you could look for your brother. If Minho happened to be hanging around him, that would be purely a coincidence.

Still, your ego wouldn't give in. 'Enjoy tonight, forget about him. Dance like he's not watching–you'd get too shy if he was. Maybe I should drink, I'd feel more comfortable dancing. But I wanna stay sober tonight, though. Just in case. Forget about him.' It felt like the hardest you tried to empty your mind, the more Minho would plague it. You always feel like there's a pair of sharp eyes on you, even though you haven't seen him since you walked into this party. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, it probably was. Still, each time you sway your hips, you picture this specific set of eyes on you, studying your movements. You could feel it in the back of your neck, disappearing just in time before you turned around to catch him. If you were drunk, at least you'd have an excuse to think the way you are right now, but your only frail attempt of an excuse is how much you want him.

As it turns out, it seems like you were way too busy not looking for Minho to notice his presence before his breath touched your cheek, hand on your hip as he swayed behind you. "You're watching people walk in and out of this room like a hawk." You feel his gaze burning on your profile. "Who're you looking for? Wooseok?" He chuckles as you dramatically roll your eyes at him, "He sure as hell has been looking for you."

"I didn't even notice him, so..." Your stare back at him, immediately locked in a trance. His dark eyes seem to suck you in, everything else in the room drifting away when you focus on them.

Minho hums, bringing your back closer to his chest. "Of course you didn't." You don't fight against the way he spins you around, pressing your chest against his, lost in a sea of bodies touching each other. "You don't have eyes for anyone else, do you?"

Somewhere in the distance, too far away from the reality which Minho has sucked you into, you think you hear Wooseok calling your name. You can't really tell, though. Not when Lee Minho is looking down at you like that. Reality creeps it's way back into your mind when the man's head shoots up, apparently spotting his friend in the crowd. Minho backs up, meaning to leave the scene before he arrives. "You said you like it when I watch you." He says. "Put on a show."

Wooseok's hands are on your waist, his chest to your back. You're pretty sure he whispered something as he squeezed your hips, but you didn't quite catch it–Minho was leaning against the wall, eyes dead set on you. The poor lighting makes his gaze more intimidating as he brought a cup to his lips, eyes never leaving you. Slowly, his focus switches from your eyes to your neck. Your body rolls against the boy behind you, making sure your ass didn't touch his crotch. The only person you wanted to touch you like that is currently looking at you from across the room–his countenance seeming more and more annoyed the more you seem to enjoy Wooseok. It's your turn to smirk at him–for the first time ever, you're the one setting the game's rules. You keep your attention on Minho as you throw your head back on Wooseok's shoulder, letting him kiss down your neck.

How silly to think he'd hand the control over to you for this long. Minho brings his phone to his ear, sweetly smiling at you as he speaks. You keep dancing with the clueless boy behind you, putting on your best show for the man before you. He no longer tries to hide how long he admires your cleavage, jaw clenching each time Wooseok's hands would try to wander over your body. You'd stop him just before he reached your ass or your chest just to give Minho enough time to react–to watch the genuine annoyance on his face as someone else touched you. The butterflies in your stomach flap their wings violently at the indication that the man might be thinking about how he doesn't want no one else with their hands on you, the mere possibility of making him jealous starting to take over your consciousness. Suddenly, Minho smiles sweetly again. Way too sweetly. Before you can react, Wooseok seems to have been snatched off of your body–the heat of his back disappearing abruptly.

"Are you fucking serious, Wooseok? Out of all the people in this party?!" Oh, of fucking course. You can see Minho starts to laugh before you turn around, immediately approaching your brother. Wooseok stumbles, trying to regain balance after your brother pushed him off of you.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?" You maintain you eyes focused on your brother, guiding him away from Wooseok.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?! What was that for?!" You weren't worried about an actual physical fight happening–you know both of them, and you know they wouldn't take it that far. Still, the way Wooseok raises his voice at your brother startles you.

"You're really gonna act like you don't know what that was for?"

Even though you were standing right in front of him, your brother's eyes were focused solely on the boy. "Hey, he wasn't doing anything by himself, alright?" He looks down at you, jawline clenched. "It's not a big deal."

"You don't need to pull shit like this. She's an adult, man."

"And you don't need to act like you're not always trying to pull my sister."

"What if I am? What the fuck does that have to do with you?!"

"Hey, hey, hey." Minho appears from Wooseok's side. He had a small smirk on his lips that didn't quite match the situation at hand. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Nothing new, Min. He just can't keep it in his pants whenever she's around." Your brother says, gaze not budging from Wooseok's face as he tilts his head towards you.

"Chill the fuck out, alright? You're making me sound like a creep."

"I don't care. If you go after your friend's little sister you're a fucking creep."

You watch as Minho intervenes, calmly talking to both men as he attempts and succeeds to settle their nerves. His eyes switch from one side to the other, persuasive as always, convincing both of them to let it go. Your brother seems defeated when he finally turns to you. "Are you alright?"

You roll your eyes at the question. "Why wouldn't I be? He wasn't doing anything wrong."

"I don't know, you just seem tired."

"Well, yeah, obviously. This whole thing was stressful. I'm just glad nobody here gives a fuck to make a scene out of it." You sigh, looking over the crowd with crossed arms. "I'm done for tonight, though. I think I'm going home."

Your brother's demeanour is drastically different from earlier–puffed chest turned to slump shoulders, clenched jaw turned to a frown. You would feel sorry for him if this whole fiasco didn't affect directly the one thing you want so badly to happen tonight. Sure, Minho only snitched because he knew your brother's reaction would be bad–but you wonder if it was somehow worse than he imagined, if this whole headache was worth it. If you were worth it. All you know is you'd argue with your brother a million times if it meant Minho would touch you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can give you a ride." You're about to deny your brother's offer, but Minho never loses a single opportunity.

"Really? You wanna leave already?" He asks the boy.

"Not really. I wanna stay. But if I ruined the night, then-"

"You can stay, man. I can take her. I was about to head home, anyway."

"He's right." You're learning how to follow his lead. "I don't want you to leave because of me."

Your brother looks at Minho and then at you. The air the three of you share seems heavy all of a sudden, the forced proximity due to the push and pull of the crowd suddenly suffocating. But then, your brother smiles. "I really owe you one, man."

Minho's touch on your wrist as he guides you out of the party lights your skin on fire, anticipation eating up your nerves. You wonder if you'll make it to his house at all–you hope you don't. You hope he gets so desperate to touch you he doesn't care who's seeing, you hope he fucks you in his car and when you get to his house and when you wake up the morning after.

But that's just wishful thinking–that's your brain and your anticipation and your yearning yelling at the top of its' lungs, begging for the man who's leading you down the street to look your way so he can see the sheer desperation in your eyes. But Minho's not like you at all. And he's not like the million versions your mind made him out to be, either. Minho is cool, collected. Years of being around him and you've never seen him lose composure, and your gut feeling tells you you won't see it tonight either.

Charming as always, he opens the door to the passenger seat when you finally reach his car. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as he starts driving, waiting for him to give you any sign of a confirmation that this is really going where you think it is.

"You look nervous." His hair was messy from how much he pushed it back throughout the night–repeating the motion now, eyes fix on the road, a few buttons now loose on his shirt. He looked more relaxed and it blew your mind how he managed to end the night looking better than how he started it. "There's no need to be. I can just take you home, if that's what you want."

"So... that wasn't the plan all along?" The breathiness of your voice, or perhaps the words that were attached to it, make the man chuckle, quickly stealing a glance from you.

"The plan is whatever you want it to be."

The car falls silent, his open invitation hovering over you as the street lights colour the beautiful boy beside you like a blank canvas. You wondered how on earth your body was able to prevent itself from lighting on fire–you could feel your fingertips burning with pure want, skin attracted to his like magnet. As every inch of your being desperately tried to keep your composure, you were able to mutter an answer just above a whisper. "I just-" You swallow the lump in your throat, "I'm waiting for a green light, Min."

You both know that's bullshit, and Minho's smile proves that. You have been known he was interested in you, but the sheer intimidation you felt every time he looked your way had you convinced that you would never, in a million years, make a move on him. Minho can't help but find it adorable–the way you'd squirm in your seat to avoid looking at him, hands fidgety every time he talked to you, eyes shaky every time he caught you looking. Your body language was screaming for him every second he was around, but this drawn out torture was too delicious for him to just give in to without watching you struggle first. He smirks to the road ahead of him, chuckling before replying. "You have one now. What are you gonna do with it?"

You whimper, and his eyes switch to you for a moment as fast as lighting. "Can't you just..." You trail off, hips settling further on his passenger seat.

"Can't I just...?"

"Make things easier for me?"

He chuckles, "And where's the fun in that, pretty?"

Your body leans slightly towards him before you can process it, desperation finally catching onto your sanity. You're doe eyed as your torso turns towards his direction, demanding attention which he, obviously, doesn't give you. "I want you to take me home, Min."

"I'm doing that."

"No, I-" your heart beats so loud in your eardrums you can't really hear the next words leaving your mouth–that might be the sole reason why you were able to say them. "I want your hands on me."

His hand immediately lands on your thigh, groping the flesh as he hummed, focus still on the road. Your foolish heart soars at how fast he reacted, and even though your shaky voice leaves you in no position to tease him, you can't help yourself. "You seem eager."

He raises an eyebrow when he looks your way,  detaching his palm from your skin and tracing his fingertips up your inner thigh until your breath hitches in your throat. He chuckles at your gasp, hand now gripping your thigh again. "Do I?"

Your legs spread instinctively, making the man hum in satisfaction, stealing a glimpse of your thighs every once in a while. As he gets bolder, you get more desperate–the anticipation making your cunt flutter around nothing, watching as his fingers get closer to where they belong. You quietly whine his name when his hand slips under your dress, middle finger tapping your clothed core. He laughs at you as his other hand turns the wheel. "You don't know how long I've been wanting to get you like this- all shy and whiny for me." He explains, finger tracing your clothed slit ever so slightly, feeling the fabric dampen. "Did dancing with Wooseok get you this excited?"

You stutter when you reply, unable to look away from his hand moving on your crotch, "No, no. I- kept thinking about you."

He nods, an understating hum settles on his throat, voice as calm as ever. "That's why you kept looking at me? Wish it was me dancing with you instead of him?"

"Yeah, you... I always think about you, when I feel like this..." You can't help squirming when he applies more pressure to your clit, circling the nerve with the tip of his finger.

"Then you know it should've been me touching you like that." A whine almost escapes your throat when you hear the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

"I didn't let him touch me, though." You admit. Minho's eyebrows shoot up, wordlessly questioning you. "He was really close, but his body wasn't really... Touching mine. My back was against his chest, but that's it." You know you don't really owe Minho an explanation, but you've always felt this need to let him know he's the only one who makes you feel drunk in desire. You want him to know he shouldn't worry about competition because he doesn't have any.

When these words reach Minho's ears, his fingers push your underwear to the side, spreading your wetness through your slit. A reward. "This is all me, then?" He says, referring to your arousal. "It's all for me?"

You nod as you take deep breaths–trying to accommodate your body to the foreign feeling that is having his hands on you after wanting him for so long. You can feel shivers awakening all across your skin and you can only hope he won't tease you for it, knuckles hurting from gripping the cushion beneath you. "Yes, you know I only have eyes for you."

His focus doesn't detach from the road when he smiles, fingers swiping the wetness from your slit directly to your clit, quickening the pace. Your hips keep stuttering despite your efforts to keep them in place, he notices your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it turned to the window–even though he wasn't looking at you, you still felt the need to hide from his eyes.

"You won't be able to hide when I get you under me." His calm voice comes out as a purr, a hum vibrating on his throat as his finger's pace stays consistent. "Gonna spread you out in my bed and make you keep your eyes on me as I fuck the shyness out of you." You shut your thighs around his wrist, making him force them open and earning a slap to your inner thigh. Your head spins as you let out a groan, legs parting as far as they physically can for him, hips rising from the seat slightly when his touch finds you again. "Stop squirming." He says, tone noticeably more demanding than before.

You struggle to reply through compressed moans, "I'm sorry, I can't- 's too much."

"Too close?" He asks as your thighs start to shake, and you pray to whoever might be listening to please, please don't let him stop.

The confirmation comes out in hurried whispers. "Yeah, close, close."

"Already? So easy to please, pretty." The embarrassment tensing your muscles gets mixed with pleasure. Your eyes shut tightly, head thrown back on his head restraint, focusing on the feeling of his fingers and getting high on the sound of his voice. "Hope you can take a couple more rounds."

With that, Minho's ministrations become quicker, rougher–his middle and index finger making a mess of your arousal all over your clit, careful to not let his pace relent when you start moaning for him, thighs shuddering around his wrist.

Even though you were able to feel your orgasm slowly creeping up on you, it's intensity gave you whiplash. Minho's presence was the only thing tangible in the back of your mind as your hips bucked against his hand–mind so clouded your loud moans felt distant as your body squirmed in place, heat flowing through your skin.

The car feels like it’s reached forty degrees when you manage to get the feel of your limbs back, window beside you completely fogged by your laboured breathing. Minho's hand is still in your pussy, leisurely coating your arousal through your folds. You miss the way he smiles when he eases two fingers into you for the first time, head thrown back once again as your mouth drops open. A whine of his name makes him chuckle once again.

"Don't worry, I'm not making you come again until we get home." He says, barely above a whisper, taking a moment to watch his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "Just wanna feel you for a bit."

You don't know how long the torture lasts until you reach Minho's place–the car ride felt entirely too short but unnecessarily long. He kept his fingers curled upwards, switching from hard, slow pushes to quick ones–leaving just his fingertips inside to slowly push them in again, massaging your cunt to quickly pulling in and out of you so fast you knew his wrist would be sore by the end of the night, but Minho didn't really seem to mind. In fact, he almost looks bored–lazily averting his gaze from the road to look your way every now again, breaking into a smirk every time he stilled his fingers buried deep inside of you when you sounded like you were having too good of a time.

When he parks, Minho nonchalantly brings his fingers, that were inside you a millisecond ago, to his mouth and starts licking them clean as he picks up his keys and phone with his free hand, then hops off the car.

Your headspace is cloudy, but you’re present enough to register him opening the door for you and taking you by the hand, leading you inside the building.

When he finally kisses you, Minho is gentle. The warmth of his covers beneath you is almost as comforting as the softness of his pouty lips carefully meeting yours–months upon months of yearning finally ceasing. Although he already made you cum, although you enjoyed all the crude things leaving his lips–this is what you were really longing for. Suddenly, whatever happened in his car just a few minutes prior is forgotten–the butterflies in your stomach soaring as you open your mouth for his tongue to make home.

Minho cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as his lips move against yours–the weight of his body pinning you against his mattress. His hand on your jaw helps him control the kiss as you follow his lead, soft hums of satisfaction coming from both of you the longer Minho’s tongue insists in tasting yours. You don’t know how long he kisses you, you don’t know how long your eyes stay closed. Your body feels as light as a feather when his hands start caressing your sides, lifting your dress up to your waist.

You're pure heat when Minho's hands palm your ass, kneading the skin as his kisses lower their way from your lips to your neck. You shudder under him, sighing to the feeling of him biting, then lolling his tongue over the bruise–almost like he purposefully wanted to leave a mark. Several marks. Minho easily restrains your attempts to squirm away from his mouth, relishing in your needy whines as he kisses lower down your body–smirk permanently stuck on his countenance growing wider each time your fingers, which were lazily massaging his scalp, tugged on his locks.

Minho gulps when he finally allows you to separate from him and take off your dress–his focus now entirely on your bare torso laying back down before him. His cock twitches in his pants, which suddenly feel way too tight and less appropriate to the situation at hand. He practically drools as he positions himself between your legs–both elbows planted on the bed as he gripped each side of your thighs. Minho realizes that if he has you under him, he's way too far gone to notice anything else–quiet cries and whines that sneak their way out of your lips ring loud on his ears, making him all the more eager to have you fucked out of your mind–pretty mouth constantly hanging open, unable to suppress all the sounds he yearns to hear.

A moan escapes your lips when you realize where he's leading this, but you can't help but protest, hips stuttering in his hold. "I want you inside, Min."

He hums in agreement as he slowly kisses up your right thigh, low voice muffled by your skin. "Gonna make you come on my tongue first."

"But I'm all stretched out, you already made me come back in the car-" you part your legs wider for him, inviting, trying your best to be convincing, "just want your cock, Minho. Please."

His chuckle is so adorable it almost throws you off the haze, but it’s only a second until his eyes darken again. “No, baby. I got you so wet I think I’ve earned a taste. It’s only fair."

Thankfully, the eagerness you’ve been felling for the past hour or so seems to finally catch up to Minho. Heaven knows you wish you were strong enough to watch him–pouty plump lips that usually look so adorable in your eyes now become the eighth deadly sin. Head thrown back and eyes closed, you can somehow fell the room spinning in the back of your head when the tip of Minho’s tongue meets your folds, gently tracing along your slit. You feel the goosebumps waking up along your skin, clueless hands stroking his locks.

To Minho, you’re a force of nature. You always have been. A walking magnet, clueless to the effect you had on people just by blinking your pretty lashes at them, at him. Shy but curious eyes, voice remarkbly confident and enthusiastic when you interacted with everyone else but him–an outgoing girl becoming a stuttering mess each time he walked into a room. Minho knew you would absolutely ruin him the moment he saw you. Now it’s only fair he ruined everyone else for you, too.

It feels surreal to have you under him on the very same bed he came so many times to the thought of you, but his imagination could never top reality–you feel warm and soft on his tongue, wetness leaking out of you with every swipe of the muscle over your slit. His ministrations are featherlight against you, but as always, your reactions are what really get to Minho. Your back arches off the bed anytime he adds the smallest bit of pressure to his licking–he can feel the shivers as he runs his hands from your hips, that are constantly trying to stutter away from him, up your thighs.

Minho's own hips rut against the mattress when he finally allows his tongue inside. A loud, strangled moan leaves your lips and now it's his turn to shiver–your soft, needy cunt flutters around the muscle as he licks upwards, lolling his tongue, drinking everything you give him. His head spins as he gets drunk off of your scent, your taste, your moans–he doesn't even realize how fast his tongue has been moving inside of you until you let out a specially long whine.

Restlessness starts stirring up on your core, the intense tingling on your insides making you want to both roll your hips into Minho's mouth and squirm away from him at the same time. His grip on you was iron–veiny hands keeping your thighs spread, fingertips digging into your skin every time your legs instinctively tried to shut around him. Your mind becomes smaller and smaller as the pleasure builds up–consciousness barely there to hear the sinful sounds coming from Minho's mouth. His eyes are closed as his tongue massages your cunt, lapping up every last bit of your arousal and spreading it all over your cunt when he flattens his tongue on your slit, licking upwards to your clit. You feel your whole body tremble when he starts to circle the tip of his tongue against the bud, slowly at first, eyes now open to watch the way your body quivers to his ministrations. Splayed out over his bed, back arching off the bed constantly and grabby hands pulling into his locks, the pillow, his covers–any touch that could distract you just a bit from the alarming amount of pleasure you were whining your way through.

Minho can't help the mess–his head tilting every now and again, slowly stroking his tongue on your clit as his plush lips sucked it into his mouth. He could see the wetness dripping down your ass and pooling into the mattress–he could feel your arousal all over his lips and chin, the tip of his nose nudging your clit when his tongue snakes it's way inside you again. He started eating you out mostly with your pleasure in mind, but now as he notices your moans getting muffled by the loud sounds coming out of where you two connect, he realizes that he won't be able to go a single day without not wanting to have his face between your legs. Hell, he was so close to edging you just so he could eat you out longer–keep you bucking your hips into his face as you grew more desperate for release each time, his tongue reaching deeper inside due to the force with which you'd roll your torso towards him. But he still wants to finish the night inside you, and by the way your entire body is trembling and how loud you've been moaning, Minho reckons he has to be nice if he wants you to take another round.

So, he carefully builds up your pleasure–lips insistent around your clit as the tip of his tongue flickered the bud, finding humour on how your body tried to thrash around the bed but couldn’t do much due to his grip on your waist. Minho smiles around your cunt when your legs start shaking violently, hips attempting to raise off the bed simply because it was too much–his mouth is warm and soft, his movements so precise it startles you how quickly he took in your reactions, learning exactly what you like in no time. Either that, or he’s just Minho, and that’s just how his alluring aura manifests itself in every aspect of his life. Luring you in, hypnotizing you, locking you in his trance. A siren.

Your head rolls as further back as it can over his pillows, eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hanged open–you don’t know how loud you were moaning, you can’t tell if you were moaning at all. Your brain was mush as your orgasm thrashed through you–Minho keeping your hips in place as your limbs gain a life of their own. The only parts of your body you could feel were the ones where his touch was burning into you, numb to anything else but the man between your legs.

He coaxes you through your high, thumb stroking your skin and keeping the stimulation consistent until your body relaxed onto the bed–chest heaving with laboured breathes. Minho doesn’t look so composed himself as he kneels between your legs, taking his own shirt off before laying on top of you. His ears, neck, chest are beet red–face glistening with reminiscents of you and drowsy eyes scanning over your body, hands landing one on your waist, the other on your cheek, elbow supporting his weight on the bed.

You mindlessly lean into his touch, cupping his hand on your cheek and dragging it closer to your mouth until you were able to suck his thumb into your lips, sleepy eyes locked on his. You were growing addicted to his smirk and the darkness of his room and the pretty stars you could see through his open window–already able to tell he would haunt every single one of your dreams.

“Desperate little thing.” He coos, voice so sweet you suspect he was mocking you. He chuckles at your whine–eyebrows furrowed to express indignation, “What do you want?”

Suddenly popping his finger out of your mouth, you raise your neck off the bed in order to bite his lower lip, bringing him closer to you. When he follows, you lay your head back on the pillow and open your mouth up wide, tongue sticking out for him. Minho clicks his tongue, eyebrows raised as he looked down at you for a few seconds, smile growing wider. Then, his hand cups your jaw, holding your mouth open as his saliva drips down from his lips to your tongue. A sigh leaves you when you're finally able to taste him, relaxing your body on the bed as you swallow what he gave you. Minho watches you with a humoured, curious countenance–eyebrows raised and eyes fix on your lips when your tongue licks over them, as if you were chasing the very last trace of his flavour.

Minho didn't even process that your mouth opened again, and he doesn't process that he's already obliging–your chin tilted upwards, eager to taste him once more. The man's body seems to be moving in autopilot along with yours–both minds completely clouded, unable to form any coherent thoughts, making pure desire the only motivation to each of your actions.

You look hauntingly beautiful under him–countenance mostly darkened but your features still striking under the city lights coming from outside. You stared up at him with black, dilated pupils and eyes half open, as if you were trying to look past his consciousness and make home inside the depths of his mind, engraving the memory of tonight onto his brain for as long as you possibly could. Like you wanted him addicted.

Minho's lips clash onto yours, constant moans swallowed by one another as you desperately tried to touch more and more of each other–not a single inch forgotten. He soothes the goosebumps on you skin, hands caressing from your hips to your waist a couple times before his palms find your breasts. Minho feels dizzy when you moan his name, arching your back to seek his warmth.

Eager as always, you roll your hips against his–spread legs allowing your cunt to finally get the slightest friction from his cock. Your vision is blurry and you can't tell when you started tearing up, but the harshness with which Minho was grinding his clothed crotch against your naked cunt was the trigger for the first tear to run down your face. You were sensitive and the pleasure was overwhelming, but you still could feel your pussy fluttering around nothing, needing Minho inside.

"You're making a mess on my jeans, pretty." He mumbles against your mouth.

You struggle to breathe out, "Take them off, then."

Having sex wasn't anything new to you, but having sex with Minho feels like a completely different experience. You don't understand the headspace you're in nor are you able to dwell on what it could be–the only things you can fathom is Minho's warm body pressed up against yours and how safe and comfortable you feel. And how, when he suddenly kneels to take his jeans off, you feel so lonely and vulnerable tears flutter out of yours eyes, reaching for him with a whine of his name.

In a matter of seconds, Minho holds both your hands and comes back to his past position above you, shushing your mindless, whiny whispers with soft kisses all over your face as his thumbs caressed the skin of your hip and your cheek.

"Are you still with me, baby?" He never looked at you the way he is right now. He doesn't look confident, but in awe. Vulnerable. Like he knew this moment was a miracle and that it probably shouldn't happen again, and he, for once in his life, was allowing himself to wear this vulnerability.

You nod, eyes locked into his as you roll your hips, moaning when you feel his hard-on against you. He sighs, his underwear now being the only thing between you two, circling his hips as he asked. "Maybe we should take a break, hm?" His lips find your neck, distracting you from protesting. "Get you some water."

You barely find the strength to whisper "No, Minho, need you to fuck me. Please, I need you so bad."

You swear all the stars fall out of the sky and onto Minho's bed when you finally feel him whole. After a while of teasing you with his tip, he sinks into you with ease, both mouths hanging open in a symphony of loud moans he'd probably get complaints about.

Soft whimpers of his and your own fill the room, you feel fire lingering on each place he touches and Minho swears the universe begins and ends with each lazy, slow stroke of his hips. At this moment, he can't conceptualize the existence of anything else besides him and you. You and your constant, high moans of his name. You and your face contorted in pleasure and your needy, grabby hands. Your wet heat greedily sucking him in, trying to keep him. You and your timid gaze when he entered a room, stuttering over your words, shy smile forcing its way into your clueless lips. You, you, you.

His hands dig marks into your hips, keeping you in place as he moved above you. His thrusts were timed, consistent, and although leisured, you still bounced with each of them–his cock ripping deeper into you. Minho couldn't physically bring himself to stop kissing you–tongue roaming your open mouth, noisy kisses joining the night's soundtrack of moans and the slapping sound of his hips against your ass.

Minho felt like he ascended closer to heaven each time you moaned his name–nails digging into his shoulder blades in your own way of claiming him. He could see the desperation in your teary eyes, endless begging leaving your wet lips and shaky legs wrapped around him in a weak attempt to keep him close. Your hips, that were once bouncing off of his now lay tired on his mattress, no longer having the strength to meet his thrusts or squirm away from them. Your lips had his spit all over them and it looked like every ounce morality left your conciousness with every snap of his hips. Although pretty, you weren’t nearly as gone as he pictured in the times which he fucked his hand to the thought of you–the way you lay under him right now sits very closely to his visions, but Minho is a perfectionist.

"Arch your back for me." He says, although he’s the one to actually pull your waist off the bed, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He shoves a pillow between you and the bed and the angle instantly changes, your insides squeezing his stilled cock. Your eyes are shut tight when he whispers right by your ear, pulling your arms around his neck. “Hold on tight, pretty.”

His hold on you grew impossibly tighter as he whipped his hips against yours–thrusts so deep yet so quick that you could no longer contain the pornographic cries leaving your open mouth. Your existence narrows to nothing but open legs spreading wider for Minho to fuck into as his own narrows into being a mere tool for your pleasure–your entire senses of self were, in that moment, engulfed whole by one another.

This amount of pleasure is so foreign to your body it completely shuts down when you try to react, utter nonsense leaving your lips when you try to let the man above you know you’d never felt like this before–no one’s ever made you feel like your soul was drifting away from you whilst simultaneously spiking all of your senses so violently, making your skin hot to the touch. You completely miss most of the words leaving his lips, laboured breathing giving away both exhaustion and pleasure.

“A little cockdumb, are you?” He says, his own voice muffled by the constant noise of his hips smacking against you. “My sheets are fucking drenched in you, baby. You take it so fucking good.”

He's hitting your spot perfectly, the pillow helping him reach even deeper inside you. Minho's pace didn't allow you to breathe for a single second, your pussy desperately clenching around him as you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to explode–it's intensity so intimidating you start involuntarily shaking your head, legs shaking besides Minho's hips and moans getting drawn out, whiny, louder.

Your hips come back to life, stuttering messily when he presses a thumb to your clit–your hands fly to his biceps, nails digging on his skin, surely to leave marks of your own.

"Come on, pretty. Gonna come all over my cock, hm? Gonna claim it?"

Claim it. Claim it. Mine, you're mine. If this was anyone else, you'd me embarrassed that that's what pushed you over the edge. But it's Lee Minho, and he just said out loud the one thing you want the most in the entire world, even if it was in a drunken haze.

Your head is numb as your body pushes through your orgasm–pleasure hits your body in violent shockwaves that leave you shuddering, not giving you a second to recover until they hit you again. You're able to tell that Minho's moans got way louder, and the thrusts of his hips now have a squelch to them. It's only after a few seconds you're able to feel the wetness all over your crotch, even reaching up to your hips and belly, due to the force of Minho's thrusts as you squirted.

You feel full, completely satisfied and overly sensitive, but Minho was never not welcome between your legs. So, you lazily drape your arms around the man's neck and pull him towards you–tip of his nose touching yours, hooded eyes fix on hooded eyes. Your mouth is still open for him, moans now quiet but still constant as his thrusts grew erratic. Minho, on the other hand, was being so loud you hoped to God his roommate wasn't over. Not just his moans, but the ferocity of his hips now combined with the wetness made a noise so loud it'd be borderline unbearable to anyone else but you two.

But you really couldn't care less, not when Minho looks like a greek god above you. Perfect eyebrows furrowed in concentration and eyes burning into yours, every vein on his reddened neck prevalent and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, pouty lips hanging open exposing his–in any other situation– adorable teeth, but now you just wanted him to sink them in your skin.

"So good, so good..." You mindlessly blabber, that was the most you could do for him right now.

"Is it? Yeah? You just showed me how good it feels, ah. Squirting all over my cock, fuck."

"Do I feel good?"

His head drops to your shoulder, burying his face on your neck. "Perfect. Fuck, like you were made for me. Want this pussy all for myself."

"Have it, then." You struggle through moans, "I don't want anyone else, Min."

His hand takes the pillow under your waist and throws it somewhere in the room–snaking one hand under your waist to arch you for him as the other stroke his cock only once, enough to paint your stomach and breasts in his white stripes. Minho is shuddering as he collapses above you, face finding home in your neck again. You feel him shifting over you somewhere in your sleepy state, after a while passes. Your whine in protest makes him chuckle.

"I have to clean you up, angel." You ignore the way your insides turn due to the new petname and pulls his kneeling figure towards you again.

"Stay a little longer."

"A little longer?" He whispers, looking at your lips as he lays above you.

Minho hums when you kiss him, gently cupping your chin and guiding you through it. His tongue was soft, slow and addictive–after him, you can't really picture yourself kissing anyone else.

"I'm gonna talk to your brother." He tries to play it nonchalant, but his eyes are closed and his ears turn pink as he whispers his confessions through peppered kisses across your face.

"Really?" You can't help how hopeful your whisper sounds.

"Yeah, of course." His voice suddenly changes to an annoyed tone, clicking his tongue. "Gonna have a talk with Wooseok, too. Asshole." Your chest flutters with laughter as he curses under his breath, heart beating out of your chest as he kisses your cheekbone, then your jaw, tone suddenly soft again. "Wanna make you mine."

Your eyes flutter shut for a second, an embarrassing attempt to hold back tears. "I already am, Min."

#repost #tblr flagged my original post but i dont wanna delete it #even though i barely got any interactions #so now you have Two ot Them #yay #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz imagines #lee minho smut #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know smut

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Heya Steph! I was wondering, you have so many fic rec lists and read so many, do you have on or a few johnlock fics you could always reread? Like, they are that good you can read them over and over...

Hi Lovely!!

AHHHHHH ACTUALLY, I’ve made a list for this before, but you know what? IT NEEDS A PART TWO because I actually pulled a lot of fics off of it to keep it shorter, so WHEE THANK YOU for giving me a reason to share even more of the fics I ALWAYS go back and never tire of!!

TOP 30 READ AGAIN FICS Pt 2

See also:

Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018)

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018)

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018)

Another Top 10 Fave Fics (June 2019)

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207 w., 1 Ch. || Domestics, John Whump, Worried Sherlock) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side.

Take My Hand, Knot Your Fingers Through Mine by patster223 (K+, 2,003 w., 1 Ch. || H/C & Friendship, Whump) - "I know this is an inconvenience for you, but I would really rather you were awake right now, John." John is unconscious, and Sherlock decides to talk to him anyway. Sherlock/John pre-slash.

Let Go by thisisforyou (G, 2,743 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious / Worried Sherlock) – In the end, separating John's things from Sherlock's in the chaos of their sitting room is like pulling a limpet from a wet rock. Especially when the rock is clinging on for dear life, because Sherlock doesn't want to let go. Short, fluffy h/c Johnlock oneshot.

And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley (NR, 3,219 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff and Angst, Est. Rel., Marriage / Proposal) – A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially.

Measuring Damage With the Fujita Scale by teahigh (T, 3,548 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Vacation / Holidays, Friends to Lovers, Bed-Sharing, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Angsty Fluff, Scars, Awkward Talks) – John goes back into town, into the storm, and Sherlock realises he forgot to say, “I just want to be alone with you.”

Last Christmas by Mazarin221b (T, 3,911 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss) – That Earth-shaking revelation, then, leads to a problem, and one that Sherlock realizes should be solved quickly, before John’s dates turn into girlfriends or boyfriends, because sometimes girlfriends or boyfriends can turn into wives or husbands while your back is turned. Every time John hums happily at the mirror as he shaves, splashes on a little gift cologne Mrs. Hudson bought him for Christmas, Sherlock is drawn back to that night by the fire, and the way John’s touch had made the world stand still.

Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb (E, 4,578 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Cuddles, Kissing, First Kiss, Requited Love, Pining Sherlock) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he's pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.

In Which "John" Becomes a Synonym for "Help" by asignoftwo (T, 7,391 w., 1 Ch. || Injured John, Worried Sherlock, Fluff) –  After the fall Sherlock returns to Baker Street and is reunited with John. When John is injured on a case Sherlock is faced with the reality that he could lose John again, and it tears him apart.

I'm Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, 7,672 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Cudding, Doctor/Patient, Accidents, Pining Sherlock, Blow Jobs, Oral / Anal, BAMF John, Minor Injuries, Dev. Rel.) – Sherlock finds increasingly ridiculous ways to get John to patch him up after hurting himself.

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband.

Sibling Rivalry Or Fighting Over John Watson By Jessa7 (T, 8,085 w., 1 Ch. || Romance / Humour) – Mycroft is just as much of a genius as Sherlock is. He keeps randomly kidnapping John for chats, and the locations get better. Cue Sherlock’s younger sibling complex rearing up and jealousy ensues.

High Tide by stardust_made (T, 8,540 w., 1 Ch. || Jealousy, Angst, First Kiss) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, affluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it. Part 1 of The High Tide Series

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (E, 9,020 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Rel., Friends to Lovers, Humour, Romance, Smut) – What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game. Of course it's for a case. Of course it doesn't stay that way. Part 8 of I Blame Tumblr

The Devil You Know by PipMer (T, 9,300 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Romance, Holmes Brothers, Jealous Sherlock) – The Holmes brothers are behaving oddly. John is dazed and confused. In other words, it's business as usual at 221B Baker Street. Except when it’s not.

Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w., 1 Ch. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding.

Their Great Reward by BeautifulFiction (T, 10,095 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Fluff) – Boxing day, in John's opinions, is the worst day of the year. Christmas is over, the tree is wilting and stripped of gifts, and there's a week of dead-time until the clean slate of the new year. However the combination of a blizzard, a power-cut and Sherlock might just make it a day to remember.

I Used to Live Alone Before I Knew You by etothepii (T, 11,052 w., 1 Ch. || Winglock || Angels / Demons, Supernatural Elements, Occult) – Where Mycroft is an angel, Sherlock is a demon, and John is still John.

The River Variations by withoutawish (T, 11,619 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Three Garridebs, Romance, Light Case Fic, Near Death Experience, Angst and Fluff, Dark Humour) – John Watson never knew that he wanted a ‘no toast in the mornings’ normal until he realized what an honor it is to be destroyed by Sherlock Holmes.

Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w., 1 Ch. || Firefighter AU, Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.

Checkmate to a Castled King by LaSuen (T, 18,290 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt / Comfort, Sick Sherlock, Rev. Reich.) - John dies. Or at least everyone thinks he does.

Vena Cava by SilentAuror (E, 27,452 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix-It, Romance, H/C, Angst, Infidelity) – Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (E, 35,353 w., 7 Ch. || Humour and Angst, Post-TRF, Fake Relationship, UST / RST, Friends to Lovers, Jealous John) – Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody's happy.

The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157 w., 4 Ch. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

There's Someone On Your Shoulder by halloa_what_is_this (NR, 41,215 w., 6 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Daydreams, Sherlock Loves John So Much it Hurts) – Sherlock trips and falls head over heels in love, makes a lot of lists and stares, stares, stares.

The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T, 47,798 w., 9 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Slow Burn, Post TRF Angst) – Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock's faked death and return.

The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Casefic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) –After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #fave fics #e-rated fics #astudyinconsultingdetective #long post

[kingdomofbretonxrpg]

Plot twist: it was the gun in the library

Parties: Shooter, Adelaide Robinson, Duke of Maine, Duchess of Anjou, Duchess of Nantes, Aramis Gagne and Kit Chareonsuk

Date: August 22nd

Location: The Library Event

Triggers: Guns, Shooting, Murder, Death, Attempted Murder, Assault, Graphic thoughts, Shock, Violence, and Blood

To be entirely fair, he wasn’t the type for libraries. When on the job, his focus was intense. If he had been paying greater attention, he would have noted the tasteful decorations and prettily garbed attendees. He had a single task to accomplish while in Vannes but couldn’t resist toying with that little bastard a bit. The little note. It amused him. Useless. If the prick had done his job, he wouldn’t have to be here tonight, wasting his time in this absolute tit of a country. He knew how to blend. Not pretty enough to catch anyone’s eye but not so homely as to stand out either. Neutral. He moved to the archway on the upper level, cordoned off for the event. Only preserved volumes here. He didn’t care about the books, just making certain not to inflict any damage such that his presence here would be marked in any way. Consideration out of pure convenience. He had stashed his equipment just … ah yes, there it was. Sliding on the gloves, he withdrew the firearm from the bag and slowly screwed in the silencer. Flipping up the scope, he let his eye drag through the room.

There he was. The little pissant. What the fuck was his name again? Something suitably fucking pretentious. Aramis or some shit like that. Could take him out right now. Just standing there. Pretty boy looked tense, like he could use a good ride. Too bad he didn’t have time to fuck the useless help. Now he just needed the right ‘heads’ to line up. The Duchess of Nantes or the Duke of Maine. Preferably both if he could get them in quick succession. Minimal external casualties. A dull restriction but he could live with it. Now he just had to wait ….

[More below the cut]

Adelaide was relieved. They had finally made it to the day of the event and so far, nothing had majorly gone wrong. Everyone seemed to be having a good time as they got ready for the awards and the raffle, and there was a wonderful celebratory atmosphere. There would be randomly selected winners from those who had completed the reading challenges across all different age groups. Most exciting would be the winners of the raffle for tickets to this year’s lecture series which also acted as a major fundraiser for the library.  Families from all over the city mingled with members of the major Houses, talking about everything from books to the recent sports events. It was one of the few events she knew of that were truly open to everyone.

As the time for the announcement drew near, she made her way to the front of the room, just behind the podium, in order to coordinate the people who would be announcing each of the chosen winners. As she did so, she circled around the room to make sure she caught the eye of Duchess Katarin, Duchess Anna, Duke Cyrus, and Duke Theodore so they were warned and able to start exiting the conversations they were involved in. Then she waited quietly for them to arrive so the final and most stressful part of her night would be over. 

Katarin was actually grateful that Adelaide had caught her eye. It allowed her to exit the rather dull conversation she was holding.  Excusing herself, she slipped her hand into Wendy’s and made her way to the front of the room. This event was always one of the least stressful and she was happy to support the library and Adelaide. It was the very least she could do to help announce the winners of the evening. Having Wendy by her side was absolutely a bonus, she wouldn’t settle for having the submissive hang back in the audience.

Anna had of course been to the annual event before, but this was her first time attending as a duchess. She felt like she was taking on a lot of ‘firsts’ these days. A book lover herself, she felt a pang of loss as she roamed the library and took part in different conversations. She didn’t regret what had happened, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss her former job of book editing. She had just walked away from a small group when she saw Adelaide begin to make her rounds, so it was perfect timing for her to head towards the front of the room. She offered Wendy and Duchess Katarin a smile before turning to face the crowd and look for familiar faces.

The library was one of Cyrus’ favourite places. He came here often enough and both personally and through the House of Maine, he regularly contributed to the various programs offered by the library. This particular event was delightful and it felt good to step outside the usual restrictions of the house events. As he saw Adelaide waiting, he turned to the woman beside him. Cyrus brushed a hand over Annick’s back and leaned in to murmur in her ear, “I must go be important for a moment. Don’t run away, my wild woman.” He winked and flashed a grin before setting down his glass. He walked up to the podium and leaned in to brush a kiss over Adelaide’s cheek. “You look beautiful, Adelaide. The event is wonderful. You must be so proud.”

As Cyrus leaned in to kiss her cheek, she found herself automatically grinning in response. “Really? That’s wonderful to hear. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” She allowed another knot of anxiety to fade at the genuine compliment which made it a little easier to focus on this next bit. Considering she needed to face all of the major heads of Houses at the same time, being down to approximately a half dozen sources of anxiety instead of all of them was a relief. “Thank you all for agreeing to help today. This means a lot, and it is helping to acknowledge all the hard work of both the librarians and the city’s readers. There is a basket with the names of each of the potential winners, so all you will need to do is draw a name from your respective basket and announce the winner and the category. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

God but these people were boring. Pretty and insipid. He really needed something interesting after this. A mob boss perhaps? Some kind of gangster, capable of posing an actual challenge. With these thoughts trickling in the back of his mind, he continued to survey the crowd, watching as some female got up on the little raised area. Good good. Perhaps something was about to happen. He shifted slightly forward as the sea of nobles began to part and allow the Heads of their Houses to step up and join the tiny female. Huh, he wouldn’t have pegged her for someone important. Strange. He lined up the sight. Perfection. As the Duke leaned forward to greet the tiny female, standing close to the Duchess of Nantes, a fine and fuckable bird if he ever saw one. Oh this was fucking ideal. One shot and he could have them both dealt with, leaving only that newbie child version of a Duchess. She’d be nice and pliable for his employers. Shouldn’t be a problem. He clicked his tongue, a bad habit he was trying to break. Shifting forward again, he lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger.

Right after she finished speaking, Adelaide took a step forward in between the Heads of Houses in order to pick up the list of events so that each of them would know what order they were going in and which awards they were reading out. But in the moment she did, she felt something punch through her right shoulder. She barely registered the pain before she screamed and started to crumple to the ground. Flickering on the edge of consciousness, she could feel fire and wet and shooting pains ricochet out from that point. The rest of the room had almost entirely faded away as she struggled to stay present. 

It took a beat before Kat realized what was happening. She instinctively pushed Wendy behind her and shouted for her security. The room would soon dissolve chaos for certain but at the moment all she could think of was the girl crumpling at her feet. “Adelaide!” she shouted, dropping to her knees beside the girl, though she wouldn’t be much protection. She peered up from her position. “A doctor, ambulance, something. Now!”

For a moment Anna froze in shock, not fully understanding what had happened. When it sunk in that Adelaide had been shot, that someone had shot at them, she screamed for help and dropped to the ground as well. She wasn’t exactly medical personnel but she was fairly certain that pressure should be applied to a wound bleeding like that, so she put both hands on Adelaide’s shoulder and did her best to apply pressure without hurting her more. “Someone needs to find who did this. Are we safe here?” She wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but she couldn’t imagine waiting there like sitting ducks either. They needed to get Adelaide help.

It was a bizarre sensation, the shock that stopped him cold as he watched the submissive drop to the ground. It took him a moment to process what taken place. “Adelaide!” He exclaimed a little senselessly, since the young woman could clearly not respond. His fingers felt numb as he tried to pull his phone from his pocket and dial for emergency services. What the hell had happened? His eyes shot around the room, seeking out Annick, confirming to himself that no one else seemed to be injured. Looking over at Anna and Kat, he felt absurd as Anna pointed out the obvious. The phone still pressed to his ear, his gaze travelled upward, although if he were honest, he had no sense of where the shooter would have been standing. The entire moment felt utterly surreal. “Security will deal with it. I can’t imagine anyone would be foolish to hang around after this … she wasn’t … she couldn’t have been the target.” It was a surprisingly sensible statement given how uncertain he felt at this moment. He let the phone at his ear clatter to the ground. “Help is on the way. We just need to keep her stable until they get here.” he shared quietly.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck … the fucking little twit had stepped forward at the exact wrong moment. He had a glorious shot lined up but no, the bitch had to get in the way. This thought ricocheted through his mind as he moved swiftly through the swelling crowd, fleeing the event. When he felt pressed, he tripped some old bat wearing diamonds and knocked her into the rest of the crowd. They could help her or trample her, he could care less. He was merely looking for an opening. He stepped to the side and right into the little pissant. “Enjoying your night.” He managed to growl. He felt no guilt, merely the irritation of having to now owe his bosses for fucking up this stupid job that he hadn’t fucking wanted in the first place. All because this little piece of shit couldn’t do his work right. The deflection was comfortable.

The second that Aramis heard the gunshot, Armand’s words instantly played into his head. You won’t like how I choose to handle things. He’d been paranoid for the last couple of days now, expecting another set of goons to come after him. But this…? This was entirely different. Someone else had been hurt and it was all his fault.

Aramis felt his blood boiling; it was one thing to hurt him or even kill him - he’d gotten himself into this mess. The very least he felt he could do was get a form of justice for Adelaide. Familiar with the look of Armand’s goons, he scanned the crowd and managed to find the shooter. “Stay here,” he commanded Kit, leaving the sub’s side to push through the crowd.

It wasn’t hard to find his target. As soon as the other man quipped at him, Aramis shoved him back. “You fucking animal,” he growled. “I swear to God, I am going to kill you.” He stalked toward the shooter, intent on doing just that.

Kit had been on edge all night with the note Armand had sent Aramis on his mind. When he heard the gunshot, his anxiety peaked, and he naturally held onto Aramis, desperate to make sure he was okay, that this Armand guy hadn't hurt him again.

But it wasn't Aramis who'd been hurt. Instead, Aramis was giving him a command as he ran off to face an armed shooter. No, no, no, no, no, Kit thought over and over in his head, following Aramis as best he could through the chaos. He lost Aramis for a second, and panic rose in him again, before he caught sight of his boyfriend and pushed his way through. "Aramis, don't!" he called out with a voice that broke midway.

Oh this was fucking gorgeous. He was looking forward to smashing the pretty little pissant’s face as Aramis surged toward him. The crowd made it difficult to move through with ease but still his hand itched to get a few hard blows in. Then he heard a man call out for the pissant. Glancing over, his shit-eating grin widened. “Yours?” He taunted, laughing as he did so, knowing damn well the little fuck toy was the perfect ammunition. “Careful. He’ll end up joining the tiny girl in the morgue.” A fresh flood of people separated him from his target, stepping back to avoid getting trampled by fleeing nobles and their companions. “Soon pretty boy … don’t you worry… we’ll see each other again real soon.” He called out.

Adelaide was only vaguely aware of what was happening around her as the pain in her shoulder seemed to spread to take over her whole focus. She could hear the people close to her shouting and people farther away screaming. Mixed in with all of that were the growing sound of sirens. Coming back into focus for a moment, Adelaide reached over and grabbed Kat’s hand, not caring if it was too familiar or anything. “Don’t - don’t let my parents find out on the news. Ok? They’ll...they’ll handle it badly.” It took more of an effort to say that than she had expected. But moments later, a medical team was rushing in, pushing the nobility out of the way so they could get her onto a backboard to get her out to the ambulance. Mercifully, that was when she finally fainted. 

#bretonlibrary2022 #library event #bretonevent

[hamonsurveysoverdrive]

Kiss

001. Has it ever snowed on Christmas? I have seen a white Christmas ONCE in my 32 years of living in Texas, and it was more... frost, than anything. 002. Do you like bright colors? Sometimes. 003. What's your favorite animal? Zebras. 004. What's your favorite band? Jimi Hendrix. 005. Have you ever played spin the bottle? Yes. 006. If so, who did you end up kissing? A lot of people. 007. How many hours do you usually sleep? Between 4-8 lol 008. Do you have any piercings? Nose and ears. 009. What kind of printer do you have? I don't. 010. Have you ever been so dizzy you fell down? Yes. 011. Do you like to go outside or do your prefer to stay inside? Inside. 012. What do you usually do inside? Different things. 013. What do you usually do outside? Smoke cigarettes lol 014. Who do you usually spend the most time with, besides family? Besides family... Probably Justin. 015. Do you know what hypochondriac means without looking it up? Yes. 016. Do you ever wonder how you're going to die? Sure, doesn't everyone? 017. How do you think you are going to die? I have no idea. 018. What color is your shower curtain? It's Mets themed lol 019. What color is your house? Tan. 020. What color is your car or your parent's car? Well, I have no car because of the wreck. My dad's is a dark grey, my mom's is red. 021. What is something you've been thinking about a lot today? My kiddos, sociology, Justin. 022. Do you drink alcohol? Not anymore. 023. What about coffee drinks? Yes. 024. Are you addicted to caffeine? Yes. 025. Write something here that may be an inside joke or something someone reading this wouldn't understand. Nah. 026. Do you watch Grey's Anatomy? I do lol 027. Did you want Yang and Burke to get married? God no. 028. What tv show do you like to watch but don't get to watch often? A lot. 029. Would you like to be on Deal or No Deal? No thanks. 030. Do you think you could win the million dollars? Probably not. 031. What case would you pick? 8. 032. Have you ever watched the Phantom of the Opera? Yes. 033. Do you think Finding Nemo is too popular? No? 034. What flavor of ice cream do you prefer? Rocky Road. 035. How do you like your meat? ...Which meat? 036. What pizza place do you prefer? Domino's is the easiest. 037. Do you say y'all? Yepp. 038. Pick a foreign country. Greece. 039. What do you like about that country? The history. 040. Have you ever been there? I wish. 041. Do you wear sunglasses a lot? Yes. 042. Did you know that Halloween is actually a religious holiday? Ugh. 042. Is your family religious and not celebrate Halloween because they think it is "evil"? Nope. 043. Do you own any dresses? I do. 044. Would you eat a bug for $1,000,000? Yes. 045. Is anything bothering you right now? Yes. 046. When's the last time you hung out with your best friend? I hung out with Kelsi yesterday. 047. Where was your default picture taken? My bed. 048. What time is it? 11:13 pm 049. What can you hear? My dad's TV that is way too loud, my typing, the AC 050. What can you smell? Nothing. 051. What emotion are you feeling right now? Boredom. 052. Are you a boy or a girl? I'm a woman. 053. iPod or MP3? Neither. What year is this. 053. Have any good jokes? No. 054. Got a favorite comedian? Anthony Jeselnick, George Carlin. 055. How many Tumblrs do you have? Just the one. 056. Is anyone in the same room as you? Nope. 057. Where are you at? Home. 058. What's in your closet besides clothes? Hangers, some games. 059. Find the closest book and turn to page 48. What's the first whole sentence? Unthinkingly she knocked it away then drew her hand back, horrified. 060. Close the book and open it up again to a random page. What's the first word you see? Cellar. 061. Favorite season? Summer 062. What boy's name do you love? Clark. 063. Girl's name? Zelda. 064. What colors are you wearing right now? Blue, green. 065. What food would you like to be eating right now? None. 066. Any compliments today? Yes. 067. What would you do if a random person came up to you and told you they liked your pants? Say thank you. 068. Are you happy right now? I'm fine. 069. Have you ever egged someone's house? No, but I egged someone's car in high school. 070. Toilet papered it? Nope. 071. Ever gone camping? Yes. 072. It takes six to eight hours for food to pass from your stomach to your small intestine. What's in your tummy right now? Taco stuff. 073. Any allergies? Fire ants. 074. The last time you got flowers was when? No idea. 075. Do you just randomly quote lyrics out of the blue? Sometimes.

#survey #surveys

[luvleekaotix-imagines]

Emotional support

a/n: thanks to @paopuparfait for letting me borrow their college au. i haven’t had the greatest time this past week, but i’ve been reminded that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb and it’s comforting. 

heres a slice of life fic where a few characters just do their best to cheer you up and give you special treatment

“Hey—are you okay?” Aqua was probably your most perceptive friend. As soon as she saw you, she knew something was up.

You were doing your best to hide your negative feelings, but obviously, it wasn’t going well. The past few days had been trying and you didn’t want to burden your friends with your pessimism. They were always there for you and it wasn’t fair of you to always dump it on them, so you though to try and hide it this time. 

You were trying to bury it deep.

Aqua put her hands your shoulders and gave you a once over, taking in your pursed lips and effort to avoid her gaze. She offered a kind smile and put her arms around you. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I’m here for you though, you know?” She moved her hand to take yours. “Wanna get a coffee before class? My treat!”

You wanted to say ‘yes’, but—

You gently pulled your hand away from Aqua. “Sorry. I think I’m just gonna—” You gestured vaguely behind you. “Thanks anyway. I’ll—see you later.” If you spent time around her, you’d want to break down. If you were alone you’d be able to hold it together. Just for today, you’d keep everyone at arm's length.

Aqua watched you walk away, merging into the crowded halls and she frowned. Were you really going to be okay? She hummed before taking out her phone and starting a group message. ‘Hey, do you guys mind? I think a certain someone needs some support today.’

During the lectures, you were out of it. You couldn���t really focus. Emotionally you were fucked, mentally you were wrecked. You had no energy to even try to give the professor at the front any attention. You sat way at the back, hidden by others in front of you and just fucked around on your phone, trying not to cry. Why were you even on campus? Maybe it would better to go home.

Throughout the class, your group chat pinged. It was just the usual shit though; complaints about classes, letting everyone know when they had practice on if anyone wanted to go watch, that sort of thing. There were also some memes being sent that managed to wrangle a few smiles from you. Though you didn’t say anything, you reacted to a few of them.

When the lecture ended you left as soon as possible, ducking out before anyone else. When you turned a corner, you heard someone shout your name. Before you could properly turn around, you were suddenly engulfed in a tight hug. “Hey!” It was Sora beaming down at you. “I was looking for you.”

Oh, he was glowing today. Not that he wasn’t usually like the sun, but Sora’s cheery attitude was in stark contrast to how you were feeling. You didn’t want to bring him down any. “Hey...  Don’t you have class soon?” You asked kind of dismissively.

“We’re always late.” Vanitas droned from somewhere behind Sora. “Open wide.” Something was held in front of your mouth and you were so confused you just obeyed. A soft cookie was gently shoved in and you clamped down on it to hold it in place; your arms were still kind of captive in Sora’s hug.

You couldn’t say anything with a mouth full of cookie, so you just narrowed your eyes at Vanitas. He smirked and ruffled your hair, taking advantage of your helplessness. Then he gave you a casual salute before wandering off, disappearing as suddenly as he showed up. It wasn’t like you never interacted with Vanitas, but it was always so—abrupt.

Sora finally let you go. “You know that was meant to be my cookie.”

You reached up to your mouth, split the baked treat in half and held out the free half. Sora leaned forward so you should put it in his mouth. You hadn’t eaten anything yet, so you were begrudgingly a little happier for it.

“You okay? You’re pretty quiet.” The brunette subtly offered for you to open up if you wanted to. When you didn’t give a response, Sora changed the subject. “You gonna go see Riku’s match today?”

Oh right, the boxing match. You thought of the crowd and the likely presence of Riku’s cheering fans and you cringed. As much as you liked to support the silverette, you really didn’t have the energy to deal with it all. “Um—I might just skip it this time. He’ll be okay without me there.”

“Aw, I don’t know about that.” Sora grinned. “He loves it when you’re there. It gives him an excuse to ham it up.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. “Like he needs an excuse.” The sarcastic response was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You quickly pursed your lips. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Sora was cackling and you smiled for a split second before you became kind of melancholy again. If Sora saw it, he didn’t say anything. “Okay, I gotta run or I’ll really be late.” He gave you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before dashing down the hall. “Bye!”

Once your radiant friend was out of sight, you felt miserable again. Maybe you’d just skip all your classes for the day. You paced back and forth, being indecisive, before heading towards the library. You’d feel guilty for ditching all your lectures and just going home. Maybe you could get some research done instead?

You were passing by one of the art studios on your way to the other block when someone called out your name. It was Naminé waving you over. When you approached the room, you could see Kairi and Xion inside too. Before you knew it, you were pulled inside.

“Are you ditching too?” Xion asked and threw something in your direction. You just managed to catch it, fumbling with it a few times before getting a grip on it; a small chocolate bar—of course it was. She always had snacks with her. It was likely because she was constantly having to feed her two mooching childhood friends, Roxas and Axel.

“Mm.” You made a non-committal noise in response to Xion’s question and just unwrapped the confectionary to shove into your mouth. If you had something in there, you wouldn’t have to talk.

“I don’t think anyone really wants to be here today.” Kairi wandered over to you and planted a greeting kiss on your cheek. “You’re looking cute. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear that outfit in a while.” The redhead looked up you up and down and beamed. “It’s really nice!”

“Its—it’s my hobo outfit.” You stated bluntly, around a mouthful of chocolate. “What are you on?”

She giggled. “You could dress like a hobo and still look good!” Kairi was always so kind and sweet. You put zero effort into how you looked in the morning, there was no way you could have looked any good. Right? Kairi was the one who always looked good, even if she complained that she was hobo-ing it.

“Here, I made this for you.” Naminé suddenly held something out. It was in a cute little handmade paper bag with your name handwritten in a neat and stylish font. “I hope you like it.” The blond was always self-conscious when it came to her creations, but you were always blown away by her talent. They were so good you had to start offering to pay her for the gifts she randomly gave you because they were so amazing.

“Oh geez.” You reached in to take out an awesome hand decorated phone case. It was totally in your aesthetic style and colours, with little charms and icons of things that you really liked. “Naminé, how much do you want for this?”

She waved a hand with a small blush on her face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m just glad you like it.” Her sweet and earnest smile made your heart flutter with emotion and you gave her a hug which was returned with no hesitation. “I know you already know this, but if you ever need to talk to anyone, we’re here for you.” When you didn’t respond, Naminé took your hands in hers and smiled. “Just keep it in mind, okay?”

Xion and Kairi sounded in agreement. “You can come to us any time! We’re a call away.” The redhead offered.

Your lip quivered and you wanted to open up, but quickly shoved your emotions back again. “Thanks, guys.”

You quickly left after that, the girls giving you a hug and kiss each. Honestly, you felt like you were the luckiest person in the world for having such supportive friends—maybe it was more like you were one big misfit family. You were really down in the dumps and you really appreciated everyone’s support.

Since you weren’t going to watch Riku’s match, you thought to see him to quickly wish him luck and then go home after to sleep off the rest of the day. You changed your phone case on the way to the other building and quickly checked the group chat to see where everyone was at.

Not many people usually went to watch Riku practice. All his fans knew he preferred to focus on his own. However, occasionally some of your friends liked to turn up to cause trouble. You could hear the voices before you entered the gym, but when you walked in there was a cheer.

“Here’s someone who could really give it to ya!” Axel waved you over to the bench. He and Terra were in gym wear, either on their way to their own practices or intending to work out, but choosing to annoy their friend instead.

Terra gestured for you to sit beside him. “Come join us, we’re heckling him so he gets used to the pressure.” He was like an older brother to Riku and while your first impressions of Terra was that he was serious and reserved, after a while you realised he was also a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, Riku seemed out of breath and sweaty from punching the sandbags. When he saw you, he beamed. “Hey.” He ignored the other two, taking off his gloves to pelt them at Axel and Terra who protested. “Don’t you have class?” When you didn’t reply, he raised a brow. “Not feelin’ it?”

You shook your head. “I just came in to say I’ll be missing your match. I’m really not—well, so I’m gonna go home and sleep for the rest of the day.” You felt bad admitting that you’d rather sleep over going to support your friend.

You expected Riku to give you a disappointed look, but he simply reached for a towel nearby to wipe the sweat off his face before planting a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not an important match anyway.” He grinned. “If want to, we can grab dinner later and I can tell you all about my win.”

“Listen to him—so confident.” Terra quickly interjected. “You shouldn’t get such a big head or else it’ll be a massive target during your fight.” The silverette made a comment about how funny it was that Terra was talking about ego, but the brunette brushed it off. Terra instead put an arm around your shoulders as you sat beside him. “Did you need a ride home? I’m gonna leave after we finish annoying Riku.”

You shook your head and leaned on his shoulder. “No. I’ll get home on my own, thanks.” You also knew that Terra lived in the opposite direction to you, so there was no way you’d make him go out of his way.

Terra planted a kiss on your head. “I’m no good at talking, but if you want me to intimidate someone, I can do it.” He offered and you had to laugh. At least he was admitting that he was shitty at talking through issues. Talking was more of an Aqua thing. Terra smiled when he saw you lighten up for a second. He always felt bad when he hovered around you, struggling to find the right thing to say when you were feeling bad. When he got it right, it felt good.

“Wait, I want in on this intimidation thing.” Axel leaned in. “I can offer some firey support. Maybe some ice cream after.” He gave you a mischievous grin with a spark in his eye. To be honest you had no doubt that if you asked for someone to be intimidated, Axel would be all over that shit. You didn’t know too much about Axel’s past, but sometimes when things got rough, you could see something flicker in the jokester's expression. He was sweet to you, but you knew he wasn’t that way to everyone.

“Hang on, is someone bothering you?” Riku asked seriously, just in case. At times, he was definitely the personification of ‘where do they live, I just wanna talk’. He would never butt into anyone’s business for the heck of it, but when a friend needed it, he was there. You couldn’t count the number of times you’ve asked Riku to sit by you to help divert the ill intentions of others; you were very grateful for it.

“You guys are always so eager to fight.” You rolled your eyes. “Not everything can be solved with fists—or fire.” You added quickly as you saw Axel open his mouth. “I’m just—feeling bad.” Miserable, actually. “I go home and rest and hopefully I’ll bounce back tomorrow.”

The guys looked at each other and conceded. Terra kept his arm around your shoulder, “Alright, fine. I’m gonna drive you home though—no buts.” He covered your mouth with his hand before you could protest. You made a sound of disapproval, but the brunette ignored you.

The guys continued to argue about something inane, but you felt maybe they were acting out to try and cheer you up. Maybe staying away from your friends wasn’t the right thing to do. Being around them actually lifted your spirits a little. Sure it hadn’t improved much, but it certainly wasn’t worse. When you got home later, you’d go to sleep and hopefully wake up with a better outlook.

Although, you guessed even if you didn’t, you’d be able to lean on your friends for some support.

#kingdom hearts #kh #kingdom hearts imagines #kh imagines #reader insert #aqua #aqua x reader #sora #sora x reader #vanitas #vanitas x reader #xion #xion x reader #kairi #kairi x reader #namine #namine x reader #riku #riku x reader #axel #axel x reader #terra #terra x reader

[rrrawrf]

i had some shower thoughts and now it’s Mormon On Main time y’all

so! it was a long and convoluted thought process, don’t ask me how i got here, but i started thinking about how God like. “operates” in this world/with us/etc etc, and

so like. people like to ask “why does God let bad things happen” and people also like to say “well why do YOU let bad things happen” and people like to say “this is God’s plan for me” and “it was just a coincidence” and anyway i think everything is like. one huge mix of all of that.

(lots of mormon lore and scripture references and stuff under the cut that you might not get if you aren’t mormon but like i’m not saying you shouldn’t read it if you still want to, just that i’m not explaining references in this post but i’m totally up for answering questions)

so my car just broke down. what happened was, the brakes went out. now, this did not happen randomly, or out of the blue. i knew this was coming, i just didn’t know when.

this is not a “God let this terrible thing happen to meeee oh woooooeee”

this is not a “your God doesn’t care about you or else your car would have worked”

this probably isn’t even a “blessing in disguise”!!!

what this is, is *shrek voice* layers

so i have not been maintaining my car. it’s 19 years old and i haven’t been taking good care of it. i forget oil changes and i ignore the idiot lights and i definitely totally ignored the horrific grinding noises every time i drove to work for a month. so, naturally, my brakes gave out.

they gave out in the parking lot at work. literally just before i turned into the road.

they could have given out in the road. they could have given out on the freeway. i could have been in a wreck because of it. i could have died. instead, they gave out in the parking lot, so i could back up, stick it in a parking space, and get a ride home with my boss.

did God look down and decide to nuke my car that day? no. the brakes giving out were my own dang fault. bc i chose not to deal with them, i chose to run this car into the ground, i chose to kept driving it and ignore all the warning signs.

but i do, wholeheartedly, believe that God had a hand in the timing of when they gave out.

and like. i think that’s true for everything? and i also think that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints often like to take even this concept and think of it as wholly black and white.

okay i put the real name of the church in my post, from here on out i’m using mormons and mormonism, my apologies pres. nelson. luv u buddy. #sustained

but so in my lovely shower, where i have my most intelligent thoughts (honestly, the only place i have intelligent thoughts), i mixed this up with some thoughts i’ve been having for a while, about things like america being “the chosen land” and native american genocide and pioneers and history is written by the victors and and and.

no, i do not presently have scriptures to back me up. i’m a bad mormon. but if you’re mormon, and you’ve lived in america for at least one fourth of july, you can probably guess what scriptures in the book of mormon i mean.

i’ve noticed a lot of lack of nuance among members. and that’s not just a mormon thing, that’s an everyone thing, people like black and white thinking, and we have all been guilty of this, no matter how sophisticated or intelligent or woke you are. own up to it. but like, it can be a bit more of a problem when this is what we actually teach and discuss in church, and avoid nuances.

i feel like a lot of people think of the things that happened in the book of mormon as God-given prophecies? which, yes, is true in a lot of cases. but then they go on to say that things like friggin columbus finding america and the revolutionary war and all that, that all that was “prophesied,” and when i say “prophesied,” i mean “God made it happen.”

my point of view isn’t necessarily that God made it happen, but that They saw it happen, and told the prophets in the BOM about it, and said “this is what will happen to your descendants.”

i don’t necessarily think that God 100% punished the nephites by making them dwindle in disbelief and also get murdered in war. i think that, again, They saw it, They told prophets what was gonna happen, They knew it, They know everything, right? but like. i doubt that God had any pleasure in watching the “””evil””” people die in a war, regardless of who started it or why. but They can’t necessarily intervene all the time because agency (a whole nother argument there). and yeah They made that promise to enos (i’m pretty sure it was enos i told you i’m a bad mormon i don’t have the proper handle on my theology that i should) about enos’ ancestors, etc etc, and They made the promises to noah about the flood and everything, and to other people and cultures and even religions. and i believe They’ll keep the promises they made, but also like

if you don’t maintain your car, it’s gonna break, and that’s your fault? if you raise your children to bake a cake a certain way and it isn’t as delicious and they do it all their lives, that’s still (partially) your fault? if you are given a position of authority and continue to preach to a congregation a certain way and they follow that path, that’s still partially your fault!!! it’s your influence!!! it isn’t always 100% God’s!

and yeah They speak through people, and They act through people, and They keep my brakes from going out at 50 miles on the freeway before i rearend someone, but the brakes going out in the first place was my own fault.

so wow this is getting long. i’m not apologizing. if you read this far, i’ll bake you cookies (but you have to come to my house).

back to the point i wanted to make when i sat down. (american) mormons like to bring up the verses about AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL as if like. God magically laid down the yellow brick road for george washington to chase the british out on. i believe that yeah, God had a hand in the religious freedoms that allowed joseph smith to found the church here.

i don’t believe God had a hand in the genocide, wars, murder, and slavery that built this country.

full stop.

manifest destiny is echoed when we spout off those verses we assume are about columbus and the founding of america and all that. we’re really good about ignoring things like when our pioneer ancestors killed native americans to settle out here in the west. and again - yeah, we were guided by God to get out here to utah. but i don’t think God was there saying “oh also kill those other settlers” in the mountain meadows massacre (also i don’t think good ol’ brigham young said that, either. what a problematic fave he was, though). 

and idk i just. i feel like (american) latter-day saints (is that our preferred identity term now? i forget) sometimes just like want to believe that all our prophets and apostles and all our scriptural “heroes” are wholly infallible people who never made a mistake. i think we like to forget that history is written by the victors, and things like the war chapters in the BOM were definitely written by the victors. and i’m not here tryna say stuff like, #nephiwastheworst #lamanandlemuelforever, or whatever, but like. joseph smith screwed up and got the plates taken away. we know that. i don’t think nephi (any of em) was 100% without fault. captain moroni likely did some pretty awful stuff (or allowed others under his command to do awful stuff) during the wars, but no one is gonna wanna talk about that, and so they never did in the scriptures. (the thousand[plus sixty] stripling warriors never did anything wrong in their lives tho and this is the hill i will die on).

i think that we just need to put in some nuance to our studying. people screwed up. they were still heroes. they can still be our heroes. but i think that by using this black and white thinking and avoiding discussion of history, of cultural differences between now and then, of condoning nephi killing laban and then saying murder is wrong, and then saying we shouldn’t have gun control, of avoiding all that difficult thinking, we’re really doing a disservice to ourselves, and to the generations after us, and to the generations that came before us.

#long post #i had fEELINGS #tumblrstake #mormon stuff #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #lds #tw genocide mention

[chrisbbaegopayo]

Hold Your Breath (Stray Kids: Stalker AU) ➻ Prologue

Genre: Thriller, Angst, Gore, Mystery, Suspense Characters: Stray Kids, OCs Word Count: 2.4k Warning: This story will contain elements of gore, on- and off-screen abuse, torture, mental illness, and stalking. It will feature themes that are not suitable for all ages, readers discretion is advised. Each chapter will have its own specific warning.

The story takes place in the main character's third year of university. The prologue will detail information before the story takes place.

Chapters: Premise | 01 Prologue | 02 Chapter one | 03 Chapter two | Chapter three (part 1) | Chapter three (part 2)

------

The day had gone completely how she expected—a roster of classes, school work, and downtime. Her mundane life, for lack of a better word, was ordinarily plain. When classes end, she would find herself in a deep pit of homework. When the weekends rolled by, and when all her school work had been done and filed, she would marathon her favourite movies on Netflix. Oftentimes, she would be in the company of her best friend, Jisung, and the two would tackle her long and seemingly endless list of need-to-watch television shows and films.

Her life was as ordinary as it could get, and she wouldn't have it any other way. The school year had started off without a hitch, and with her organized lifestyle, graduation didn't seem too far away nor impossible. Her first year at the university came as fast as passed, followed by her second year, which flew past her just as fast. She maintained her average all throughout her academic career and was an overall great student. She enjoyed her classes almost as much as her teachers appreciated her as a student.

However, what she didn’t account for was the introduction of random gifts that had found themselves in her locker that she rented, and although a kind gesture, the sender seemed quite persistent. She had never used any of the presents she was given and opened a couple before she left them inside her locker altogether. The first one arrived a year prior, during exams, at first, she thought it was her friends, but upon opening the presents, she quickly scratched that out considering how unrelated it was to her school life.

She also asked some classmates if they had seen the person who placed the presents in her locker, but no one had seen anything of the sort. After that, friends often teased her for it, all in good fun, of course. Supposed that she did laugh along with them, part of her felt a little unsettled by the entire ordeal. However, she chalked that up to mere paranoia and brushed it off.

Days had passed since she received her first present and for a long time, it had been radio silence. And then the week after that, she received another present. It seemed innocent enough, just lying there inside her locker, waiting for her to open it. She thought about it for a moment but decided against it. It would wait until she finished classes.

The present had been innocent enough like she had thought, and like the previous present that she had received, she made sure she never used it, preferring to keep it at the back of her locker. The present never harboured any malicious intent end it was just like any other present that people would receive, but the unsettling undertone of the presents bothered her nonetheless.

The presents just kept on coming every single week and she kept on having to open them and storing them in the back of her locker every week as it came. She never noticed a pattern in the present, until one day, one of the presents was accompanied by a letter.

It was the most unsettling letter she had ever received.

The content of the letter read as follows:

“You blew my mind ever since I laid my eyes on you. Some things need not be said, but I think it’s plainly obvious that I am very taken by you, your appearance, and your soul. But, as every gift I endowed you with goes unnoticed, untouched, and uncared for, it stands to reason that you don’t feel the same…

...but no matter, I’ll make you mine. But in the meantime, I’ll continue to shower you with gifts all the same, hopefully, you’ll come to love them as much as I love you.”

Every word seemed heavy in her mind, her heart pace quickened as she realized what she had been reading. It wasn’t just some regular letter from a secret admirer, this was written wÇith intent. She wasn’t sure whether the person who wrote this letter would act upon his words, but one thing was for sure, it wasn’t normal.

This guy wasn’t normal.

But at the same time, she didn’t need to invoke this guy’s ire just because of a hunch. Perhaps someone was pulling a prank on her, and decided to go with some really creepy prose. She wasn’t going to sit idly and let whatever happen just happen—that was how people die during creepy horror movies—she would be on alert, and at the same time, keep others from being involved in this. Plus, if her friends saw this, they would either report this or maybe tease her because, look, such bad prose. Who wrote this anyway? Someone obviously spent a little too long watching creepy stalker movies or something—although that would account to teasing the guy who wrote it, not really her—but regardless.

Hence.

She would put this at the back of her locker, like the rest of her gifts from him. She hoped that someone just randomly chose her as the victim of a bad prank and nothing more—trying to elicit a response from her. If it was, it was an elaborate one and hopefully, after this creepy letter, she would go about her normal life.

Little did she know that while she was a victim, this would be no prank, and the presents would just keep coming, as the letter suggested. Despite that, though, her life had been rather blissful, and the presents would only be limited to her school life. Everything else was still her sanctuary, and only she would know of the entire ordeal. She would still go about her every day seemingly unaffected by this new addition in her life because she didn’t know for certain whether it would develop into a problem she couldn’t handle.

Regardless, she never told anyone, not even her best friend. It’s her problem—no one else’s.

And true to the letter, the presents kept on coming, and coming, and coming. It bothered her and wore her down seeing her locked filled with presents every week. They weren’t cheap presents either, they looked like they might have cost the person a pretty dime or two—money that could have been spent on other things, not on her, knowing that she would never use them properly.

She decided to write her own little letter as a way to tackle the buildup of things she didn’t use. In which she told the sender to stop leaving her presents as it was a little too much—obviously, calling it a little seemed like an understatement as it was quite clear that the abundance of wrapped boxes because a major portion of what hogged up her space, leaving her with little room to maneuver through her own things previously-stored in there.

Hopefully, the person would get the message and let up the excessive gift-giving, and maybe even put an end to this entire silly ordeal—of course, only she would call it silly—she crossed her fingers and hoped for the best, as it really was the only thing she could do at this point.

She tore a page from her notebook and wrote, “whoever has been sending me gifts, please stop. While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s a little too much.”

She stared at the note she just wrote, and for a long time, wasn’t sure whether it would come off as strange or even rude. In the end, she contributed her anxiety to overthinking. She would leave the little note in her locker for next time the gift-bearer left something in her locker. She folded the note in half, and then in half again, and on the front-facing surface, she wrote, “to my anonymous gift-bearer.”

She felt a little silly about having to do this. It’s like she was asking for more interaction from the anonymous gift-bearer. However, what was done was done, and she wouldn’t twist herself into a mess thinking about it further. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

With that thought, she closed the door on her locker and then left. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a better day and she wouldn’t have to deal with a reply. Or more presents. Both would be great, together.

Her dubbed “anonymous gift-bearer” never got her note.

Her friends discovered her note the day after during one of their routine debriefing sessions in the mornings. The curiosity was almost immediate as she tried to stop her friends from taking it, but was unable to do so. There was a moment of silence and suspense after her friends glanced through the note, and she wanted to hide. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her problem everyone else’s problem.

Her friends looked up from the note, the concern deeply evident on their faces, and it wasn’t one of those superficial expressions—their deep disturbance embedded within the looks of concerns, to varying degrees spread across each other her friends’ faces. It was official, if she didn’t defuse the situation immediately, they would start some form of intervention. And she did not need an intervention at this point in time. She was never really that good with lying under pressure—she was worried that she would say the wrong things at the wrong time. If she knew what her friends were capable of, they’d hire bodyguards or something.

Okay, not that extreme. They would probably bug the door, put a hidden camera in there. But then again, none of them were ever tech-savvy enough to deal with this kind of thing.

That wasn’t the point here, obviously.

The bottom line was that she didn’t need her friends to become needlessly worried about something that might just turn out to be some stupid prank that some kid did for fun. Regardless, she’d rather deal with this situation herself than to involve her friends. And should this be some malicious intent—if that letter from the gift-bearer was any indication—it would put her friends in harm’s way.

There was no way she could do that.

“It’s nothing,” she began confidently, as she hoped that her voice would be strong enough to put any concern away.

“Don’t worry.”

That did little to dissuade their concern, and the wary stares only turned grimmer. This was not what she wanted.

“Really, really, I have it under control. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad prank.” She tried again, although this time, the confidence seemed to waver.

That response seemed to be the one to put her friends at ease, although the worrying stares did not part their ways with her friends’ faces. It was still there, although they seemed a little more satisfied with her answer this time. However, her relief was short-lived as the friend who stood in front of her spoke up, still clearly on edge.

“Look, I respect your need to do this by yourself,” her friend said, “and I get that you’re trying to only contain the mess, because honestly if I know one thing about you, it’s that you hate to cause trouble for other people. But this is a hell of a problem is you have to physically write a note to this creepy stalker of yours. Or secret admirer, if we’re using kid-friendly terms, and trust me, this doesn’t even feel like it would be…”

There were a few chuckles.

“What I’m trying to say here is: if this guy or whatever he or she is, has to be lulled to his or her senses through your writing a letter, or in this case, a note, then this is far beyond what you should be handling yourself. But if you want to do it this way, then fine, but don’t forget that we’re also here if you need us to deal with some really douchey guy who has a really bad taste,” she said. That got a few nods in agreement.

“I guess we could see how this turns out—we’ll play it by ear, this one,” she finished.

Another friend spoke up, curiosity fueled this one, “just curious, what else did this person send you?”

She froze up and tried to calm her nerves. She could not show her friends that threatening letter. That would send them over the edge. No, no, no, no, no.

“Nothing. Just presents,” she quickly replied. She was hopeful it did okay to satiate that curiosity. “Really. Just not school-related gifts, I mean, honestly.”

If her friends were put-off by her answer, they didn’t voice it. But it was darn evident on their faces. And she was thankful they didn’t pursue that path of questioning.

“Come on, let’s head home? Ice cream on the way home?” She asked, trying to lighten up the mood. Her friends agreed.

She sighed—one hurdle crossed, time for round two.

At the same time, she did little to really analyze the situation. Her kind nature only put more strain on herself as a result, and her eagerness to keep her own problems to herself only solidified her future interactions with her so-called gift-bearer. Though if she had told her friends, the situation might have gone very differently.

She might have just guaranteed that her path crossed with her secret admirer.

The seconds were ticking past like a bomb on a timer, and every second that passed by was like a second forward towards her very own undoing. She knew what it seemed like in the movies, she knew how it went, but yet, what would she have done differently to discourage her admirer?

Her words had already left a mark. The note was never delivered, and the gift-bearer never got the message. The note disappeared after a while, and while she assumed that the gift-bearer had taken it. Her assumptions were well-grounded, but she never got a reply, nor did the gifts seem any less frequent for the next few days. A bitter feeling welled up inside of her, and she thought it would be best to just ignore it altogether.

She didn’t even open the packages for the next few presents. She pretended not to see them and pretended that they don’t exist. It wasn’t like the school would be able to set up some hidden cameras that would catch the perpetrator red-handed. The school wasn’t rich by any means, and any attempts at reporting anything would end up being waved away—she knew this, and she figured that the gift-bearer knew that as well.

However, things seemed to have let up after a few months as the presents became less frequent. The semester came to an unsatisfying end, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief—if anything, she would be glad to know that the gift-sessions would come to an end, she hoped.

But it didn't, she would come to learn. It was the beginning of her descent to hell.

--------

Sorry for the long hiatus, I sorta just disappeared. However, this is the beginning of this fic—the one I wrote a premise to a long time ago (read: a year ago). Please stay tuned every week for updates!

#Stray kids #stalker AU #district9net #mystery #gore #thriller #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #fanfic #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #lol this is gonna be fun #kpop scenarios #kpop #stray kids #alternate universe #fanfiction #drabble #minho #chan #yandere #stray kids yandere