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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

therapy.

| dark!bucky x reader | smut |

requested by @fitzfiles

cw: infidelity, dub-con, ethical violations

“How is it going so far? Is it helping?”

“Yeah, it’s going well. He’s... a little intense sometimes.” Your confession left your lips with ease. Too much ease. Parker always knew how to pull the honesty out of you.

“I think the best therapists are supposed to be.”

His loving smile spread warmth through your chest. It was so unlike James’ cold eyes. Everything about Parker was warm, inviting, and friendly. He was your best friend, your roommate, and more recently, your boyfriend. You loved him, and he was perfect for you. Parker was the sunshine in your life, the bright spot that broke through shades of grey.

“I’m really glad that he’s helping, Y/N,” Parker’s gentle touch on your arm was followed by a sweet kiss.

You shouldn’t have pictured someone else’s face when his lips touched yours.

“Me too.”

“Let’s order food from that Romanian place you like in uptown,” his fingers laced in yours, pulling you to the couch. You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face; he knew what you needed.

“Even dessert?” you asked hopefully, your head dropping down onto his lap.

“Of course,” he grinned, opening his laptop to order your dinner. He let you pick the movie playing while you dug into Romanian take-out, and Parker had you laughing until your sides split.

Parker was perfect. He knew what you needed without being told, and he balanced you. He was patient, bright, and lovable. Parker was a giver. You couldn’t have asked for anybody sweeter and more loving.

“Baby,” you murmured, crawling on his lap as the movie credits rolled.

His hands went to your waist, and he gave you a delicate kiss. You tried to deepen the kiss, but it felt innocent, even as he kissed you harder.

“Parker,” you murmured, leaning back.

“Let’s have sex.”

“Are you sure? I know you have to be up early in the morning,” he asked, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Of course I’m sure, you’re my boyfriend and I want to.”

With that, he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, ceremoniously undressing you and kissing your body so gently it was almost hard to feel.

He moved into missionary, his elbows on either side of your head, his body flush against yours. Little kisses were peppered to your face as he slowly rocked into you. His thrusts were slow and shallow, and he rubbed your side as you tried to pull him deeper or push up against him.

“You feel so nice, honey,” Parker said, pecking your lips.

You hated yourself for growing discontent, finding yourself just wishing he would hurry up. You nearly praised when his fingers went to your clit, thinking it would finally be enough. You weren’t so lucky, his gentleness extended even to the filthiest of his actions. He was caressing you so slowly it was just as useless as if he wasn’t touching you at all. You finally gave up and faked an orgasm, moaning softly and increasing your breathing, holding him close to you as you shuddered.

He pulled out and came in the condom, rolling off of you and getting up for a towel. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling utterly discontent.

You sat up when Parker returned, and you kissed his cheek and told him you’d clean yourself up, and take a quick shower before bed. He didn’t seem to object, and you shut yourself in the bathroom, desperate to get some space.

You cried silently, your tears and sniffles drowned out by the stream of water. It washed over your muscles, surrounding you with warmth and easing the tension. You eventually resided yourself to getting back in bed with him, feeling suffocated as he spooned you. You didn’t understand how it was possible to adore him so much and want to run as fast as you could out the door.

The weather was terrible. If the view out your window and the sound against your roof wasn’t enough, the news channel murmuring softly on the television confirmed it. The city was being drowned in a thunderstorm, the streets flooded with rainwater. The sky was almost black from the clouds, and you struggled not to let your mood darken along with it. You felt stormy on the inside, your stomach twisting with doubt and discontentment. Parker being home that morning made you feel impossibly worse, and you were willing do get soaked in order to have some freedom from his attention.

“Do you want a ride to the office, Y/N?” Parker offered, frowning as he looked out the window.

“No, I’ll take the subway. No sense in making you late for work. I’ll see you later, okay?” you kissed him before heading down the street underground to catch the train.

Bon Iver filled your ears as you waited for your train, nervously tapping your feet. The heat and dampness made your clothes stick to your skin, and you felt suffocated. Your anxiety spiked, and you pulled at the sleeves of your windbreaker, about to snap when the train made stale wind whip through your hair.

You covered your face with your hands, wiping the tears away that had escaped. Overwhelmed didn’t even begin to crack the surface of how you felt, and emotion came rushing up in your chest faster than the train sped down the rails.

People flooded out onto your station, clearing the way for the new passengers to board, everyone rushing to get to work, or school, or far away from whatever haunted them.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the train, trying to calm down. Your therapist would have a field day if you turned up at his office this anxious. The prospect made you shudder.

A few months ago, you had began seeing your therapist, James Barnes. After repeated anxiety attacks in the presence of your boyfriend, he had encouraged you to go to a therapist for help. You’d finally agreed to take him up on it, deciding it would be helpful to talk through some of your issues. James was a highly praised therapist, recommended to you by several people. Your acquaintances sung his praises, and you decided it wouldn’t hurt to try.

You definitely had not been prepared for what you were met with. A young, gorgeous man with intimidating steel eyes, who got you to spill your secrets and insecurities was the last thing you expected. All it took was looking into his intense gaze for the honesty to fall past your lips.

James Buchanan Barnes tore the truth from you effortlessly.

You stepped onto the subway platform, ascending the stairs and pushing through the small crowd of wet people trying to catch their trains. You pulled your hood up as you ran across the street to the office. The beautiful glass building reached the sky above you, holding the offices of many self-employed New Yorkers, including James.

You walked inside the modern lobby, the secretary nodding at you as you took the elevator up to the seventeenth floor of the high-rise. The glass and tile were all grey in the light of the storm outside, fog obstructing the view outside of the windows. You were trapped in a grey bubble.

“Y/N?” James stood as you entered the office, the door open and inviting you in.

“Hi, sorry I’m a few minutes late, the storm is really bad,” you apologized.

“Of course, it isn’t a problem in the slightest. I expected it. Go ahead and have a seat.”

His voice was deep and smooth, and his slight smile eased some of your nerves. You sat down on the couch, across from the dark blue chair he stood from. You watched him move, and his hand brushed your elbow softly as he walked by. It was like when Parker touched you, but it felt distinctly different.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Please,” you nodded, your eyes wide as you watched him lean over a drink fridge.

His hands flexed as he twisted the cap off of a water bottle for you, the action making you blush slightly. You lifted it to your lips, hoping the water would calm down your nerves a bit.

James sat down across from you, stirring a cup of tea and waiting for you to speak. When he realized that you weren’t going to start on your own, he set down the tea and leaned forward.

“Want to talk about what is on your mind, Y/N?”

Your eyes traveled from your lap to meet his gaze. You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m uncertain about my relationship,” you finally admitted.

“Your relationship with Parker? I thought it was going well,” James head tilted a bit.

“It is going well. It’s perfect, in fact. Parker is too perfect.”

“He’s too perfect, or too perfect for you?” James asked, and he wondered immediately if he was too harsh. He noted the way your hands squeezed the bottle of water you held.

You startled at the question, feeling exposed. He was your therapist, but you didn’t like to be called out.

“It’s not like that!” your voice came out sharper than you intended.

“What’s it like then?” He asked in a much softer tone, attempting to understand what you were trying to tell him.

You hated how patient he was, keeping his voice even. Those steel eyes gazing deep into your soul.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap... It’s just that I guess I think he’s too perfect for my taste. It’s not him, or his fault, even, I’m just bored. I feel like that makes me a terrible person,” you sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“You don’t need to apologize for expressing your frustration. So, Parker isn’t your taste, that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person. If he’s not it then he’s not it.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Why does he bore you? This is recent.” James had noticed he seemed less fond of Parker recently, but he was surprised by your confession. He didn’t expect you to so openly admit you had tired of him, especially when you’d repeatedly mentioned that he was the stable, gentle force in your life.

Your face flooded with embarrassment, and James’ curiosity was killing him. He could’ve guessed by your reaction to his question, but he waited for you to speak.

“Does this have something to do with him being ‘too perfect’?” He pressed.

“I guess you could say that. He is so sweet, he really is. But he doesn’t satisfy me sexually...”

“Because he’s kind?”

“I want something, someone, more dominant. It’s stupid, but Parker is too vanilla. It feels like a high school fairytale, and I want something fiery and intense. I want things he would never do,” you confessed the truth, and it sounded horrible in your ears when you said it out loud.

“So the problem is your sex life.”

James’ insidious curiosity was getting the better of him. He’d immediately taken notice of you over his other clients, admiring you in tight jeans and short skirts. You were charming, and you completely enraptured him.

He had never been so enamored, and he felt devious for feeling the way he did. He imagined you when he touched himself in the shower, your sweet voice and shy blush, innocence pouring through you as you confessed your deepest secrets.

James studied your reaction to the statement. Your fingers nervously pulled at your sleeves before coming up to your soft lips. A rosy pink spread across the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears, warming your face.

You grew shy, unable to escape his steel gaze. You wanted to sink into it, get lost in him, instead of swimming and struggling for air in your empty relationship.

You shouldn’t have these thoughts about your therapist.

You shouldn’t imagine his lips on yours.

You shouldn’t imagine his hands on your body.

“Y/N,” James spoke, calling your attention back to his question.

The problem is your sex life.

“Yes, he doesn’t pleasure me,” you forced yourself to answer.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What is it you’re looking for? Is it something you can discuss with him?” James asked, wanting to hear your fantasties.

Your face was burning, but the truth spilled out of you.

“Tell me what you haven’t told anyone.” It was a command.

“I want something rough, and desperate and needy. I want to feel wanted, like he couldn’t survive without touching me... I have to control every aspect of my life, and I want to be dominated, and just... let go of that control. I want to be held down and roughed up, and I want it messy and explosive,” you confessed, your fantasies pouring out of you, filling James’ mind with filthy fantasies of fuckign you over his desk.

Before James could answer, the electricity cracked, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. You screamed, jumping out of your seat. Your heart was pounding, startled by the shock that snapped the tension in the room.

“You don’t need to be frightened, not with me,” James’ voice was soft, and you felt his hands on your arms and his breath against your face.

Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, the air catching in your lungs. His touch overwhelmed your senses, and all you could see in the dark was the silver eyes that pierced into your mind.

“Y/N, it’s alright. Hey, are you okay?” He turned on a battery powered lamp, soft light spilling into a small circle around you.

“I’m fine, just startled,” you stood up.

“I’m sorry we were interrupted-”

“Not your fault. But I’m going to head out,” you interrupted.

You were embarrassed and shaken up, and the large office felt suffocating. He caught your hand as you went for the door, his hands much larger than your own, making you feel small. You hesitated, gazing into molten steel as he tried to keep you in his safety.

“At least let me walk you out,” he said, turning on the flashlight on his phone.

James never ceased to surprise you.

He opened the door for you, letting you slip by him. The building was dark, and the lack of power turned the two of you toward the stairs. You watched your steps, his hand on your back as he guided you through the dark stairwell.

You halted on a landing, and James looked to you.

“Turn off the light,” you whispered hoarsely, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. He did as you asked, darkness swallowing the two of you.

It wasn’t just a metaphor anymore.

“Y/N?”

“James.”

Before you could give it a second thought, you grabbed his navy blazer, pulling him into a rough kiss. He pushed you up against the wall, his hands going to either side of your head. His lips were heavy against yours, and he kissed you like he was starved for you. This was what you craved, heated, fiery intimacy.

Your fingers slid up his chest to thread through his dark hair. One of his hands went down to your hip, squeezing you and pushing his knee between your thighs. James overwhelmed all of your senses, filling your mind as you breathed him in. His tongue slotted against yours, swallowing your moans as your hips rolled forward against his.

When you finally broke to catch your breath, your head felt like it was spinning and the floor swayed under your feet.

“I can make you feel desired, I can make you forget everyone who came before, until my name is the only one you can remember, the only word that leaves those gorgeous lips.” James’ words were hot against your cheek, his lips ghosting along your jaw as he spoke.

Heat washed through your body, and you felt like you could collapse. Your phone rang in your back pocket, and Bucky’s presence was suddenly gone from your body, leaving you alone in the dark.

His flashlight turned back on, and the two of you silently went down the rest of the stairs, until you made it to the lobby.

“Next week, Y/N?”

“Next week,” you nodded before the door slid shut.

You hesitated before going out into the pouring rain, hanging back in the lobby. Your phone rang again, Parker’s second call. You stared at the caller ID for a moment before answering it, putting the phone up to your face.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice as calm as possible. Your nerves were all sparking, and your heart raced in your chest, still in the aftershocks of your brief intimacy.

“The power is out here, are you alright there?”

“No, we ended the session early. Total blackout.”

“Okay, baby, do you need me to come get you? Otherwise we can meet at home?” Parker asked, worrying for your safety. You held in your sigh, rolling your eyes up at the ceiling.

“Let’s meet at home. The subways are still running.”

“See you soon,” Parker said cheerily before the line went dead.

You slid the phone into your pocket before braving the storm, quickly taking cover in the crowded subway station. Your hand went over your mouth, and you watched the stations whiz by as you tried to process the last hour.

Your fingers traced your lips, the feel of James’ kiss burned into your skin.

Your hands were shaking so bad you could hardly get the key in your front door to unlock it. When you finally kicked it open, you left your raincoat and boots in the foyer, shaking out your wet hair. Parker called your name, a bright smile on his face, and a New York-style pizza box in his hand.

You knew you should’ve felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it as you were faced with the relationship that had long lost its momentum.

“I grabbed some lunch, because I figured there wouldn’t be power to cook here.”

You thanked your boyfriend, taking a slice and sitting down in the kitchen, praying the power would return soon and you could distract yourself with netflix. His kiss tasted like novocaine.

You desperately wished that Parker’s arm around your waist belonged to James.

It was the slowest week of your life. Every spare second, your mind wandered to James, and his lips on yours. He consumed your thoughts, and the ghost of his touch lingered on your body. When Parker was inside of you, you imagined it was James just to make the sex tolerable.

One moment had gotten inside your mind, and shattered the facade of your romance.

James was no better. Thoughts of you pried into his mind as he worked with other patients, and he suddenly found them insufferable. He longed to hear your voice, to see your beautiful eyes darken with lust as you bit your lower lip.

James found himself wondering if you knew how much you turned him on. The mere thought of you aroused him, and your name was the one he moaned into the sheets as he fucked his hand.

He wished it was you.

Your stomach was practically in your throat as you rode the subway to your appointment with James. A week had passed, a week of sexual frustration, anxiety, desire, and longing.

His words echoed repeatedly in your head, filling your thoughts with filth and pooling arousal in your sex.

I can make you feel desired, I can make you forget everyone who came before, until my name is the only one you can remember, the only word that leaves those gorgeous lips.

You’d worn a short dress that was cut low in the front for your appointment. Parker was gone to work before you were even out of bed, and your thoughts were entirely on your therapist as you showered and dressed for the day.

Your desire clouded your mind, throbbing deep in your core and making you ache with raw need.

You stepped into James’ office, the heavy door falling shut behind you.

“Y/N,” James practically cried, satiated by the sight of you.

His eyes trailed up your body, on sexy display in your revealing dress. You pulled your lip between your teeth, driving him absolutely mad. Your steps were silent as you dropped your things, walking around his desk to stand in front of him.

“You’re all I’ve thought about.”

“I’ve been dying to touch you,” James growled, flipping you around and pulling you back against his chest.

You felt how hard he was, pressed tight against your ass, and his hand slowly snaked around your throat. His other hand slid up the inside of your thighs, trailing higher until he cupped you through your thin panties, his mouth devouring the breathy moans that escaped your lips.

His fingers dipped beneath the lace, feeling how soaked you were just from thinking about him. He smirked against your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin, making your breath hitch.

“You’re soaked, doll,” James’ voice was deep, making another wave of arousal wash over you, only adding to the wetness that was spilling from you. He let go of your neck to slide the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, letting your breasts fall free into his gaze.

“Beautiful.”

His fingertips circled your clit a few times before sliding through your folds, and you sank back against him, your knees weakening from the lightest touches.

“James please I can’t take waiting anymore!” You begged, desperate to feel him inside of you. Your hand hand moved behind you, feeling him through his pants as he continued to grind against your ass. You moaned loudly when his hand cupped your breast, teasing your nipples as he pushed two fingers in your slick heat at the same time.

“Make me forget about everything else.”

James didn’t prolong the teasing any longer, fearing he wouldn’t be able to hold out himself. His tailored shirt and pants were stripped from his body and your dress discarded on the floor along with your panties. He laid you on top of the desk, positioning himself between your legs and pinning your wrists above your head, dominating you just as you desired. His mouth moved from your lips, down your neck and chest, all the way to your abdomen.

“James!” His name echoed off of the glass walls, your scream shooting all the way down his spine, straight to his dick. He buried himself all the way inside of you, swearing at the way you accepted him without resistance. You were tight and warm around him, and he shouted your name as he began to fuck forward into you, railing you on top of the desk as you chanted his name in blinding pleasure.

Your body accommodated him, the throbbing ache satiated as he filled you more than any partner had in the past, ripping all of the memories from your mind, leaving you with only thoughts of him.

He let go of your wrists, leaning over you so he could pull your hips down to meet his thrusts, railing you harder and faster, sending white-hot pleasure through you, your nerves fraying and sparking like a live wire.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? To let it all go?”

“Yes, yes!” you cried, your legs shaking around his waist and your fingers pulling roughly at his hair.

You dragged your nails down his back, moaning loudly into a heavy kiss, your mind melting from his lips moving against yours with raw passion. The coil in your abdomen was wound so tight that your body was writhing under him, his fingers on your clit dragging you closer to an orgasm at lightspeed.

“Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name!” James ordered, and all the pressure and tension inside of you shattered, fire radiating through your body as you screamed James like it was the only word you knew, the only thing that kept you clinging to existence.

The sight of your ecstasy had James filling your cunt with his own release, continuing to roll into you as he rode out his high, dragging yours with him. Overwhelmed tears escaped your eyes, and you blinked them away as your vision slowly started to return from the white sparks that had blinded you.

James eased out of you, leaning on the desk and catching his breath, gingerly kissing your lips and grounding you back in reality after your mind-blowing orgasm on the desk.

Your chest rose and fell, your back still arched off of the desktop, and you turned your head to gaze up at the gorgeous man beside you. He brushed stray hair from your face before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“That’s what it’s supposed to be like.”

“I want to get addicted to you,” you breathed, losing yourself in molten steel.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

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free--therapy · 3 years

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Healthy Coping Skills for Uncomfortable Emotions

Emotion-Focused and Problem-Focused Strategies

By Amy Morin, LCSW

Whether you’ve been dumped by your date or you’ve had a rough day at the office, having healthy coping skills can be key to getting through tough times. Coping skills help you tolerate, minimize, and deal with stressful situations in life. Managing your stress well can help you feel better physically and psychologically and it can impact your ability to perform your best.

But not all coping skills are created equal. Sometimes, it’s tempting to engage in strategies that will give quick relief but might create bigger problems for you down the road. It’s important to establish healthy coping skills that will help you reduce your emotional distress or rid yourself of the stressful situations you face.

Problem-Based vs. Emotion-Based

When you’re feeling distressed, ask yourself, “Do I need to change my situation or do I need to find a way to better cope with the situation?” Then, you can decide which type of coping strategy will help you best proceed.

There are two main types of coping skills: problem-based coping and emotion-based coping.

Problem-based coping is helpful when you need to change your situation, perhaps by removing a stressful thing from your life. For example, if you’re in an unhealthy relationship, your anxiety and sadness might be best resolved by ending the relationship (as opposed to soothing your emotions).

Emotion-based coping is helpful when you need to take care of your feelings when you either don’t want to change your situation or when circumstances are out of your control. For example, if you are grieving the loss of a loved one, it’d be important to take care of your feelings in a healthy way (since you can’t change the circumstance).

There isn’t always one best way to proceed. Instead, it’s up to you to decide which type of coping skill is likely to work best for you in your particular circumstance.

Healthy Emotion-Focused Coping Skills

Whether you’re feeling lonely, nervous, sad, or angry, emotion-focused coping skills can help you deal with your feelings in a healthy way. Healthy coping strategies may soothe you, temporarily distract you, or help you tolerate your distress.

Sometimes it’s helpful to face your emotions head-on. For example, feeling sad after the death of a loved one can help you honor your loss.

So while it would be important to use coping skills to help relieve some of your distress, coping strategies shouldn’t be about constantly distracting you from reality.

Other times, coping skills may help you change your mood. If you’ve had a bad day at work, playing with your kids or watching a funny movie might cheer you up. Or, if you’re angry about something someone said, a healthy coping strategy might help you calm down before you say something you might regret. Here are some examples of healthy emotion-focused coping skills:

Clean the house (or a closet, drawer, or area)

Color

Cook a meal

Do yoga

Draw

Drink tea

Garden

Give yourself a pep talk

Go for a walk

Engage in a hobby

Exercise

Listen to music

List the things you feel grateful for

Look at landscape photos that help you feel relaxed

Look at pictures to remind you of the people, places, and things that bring joy

Meditate

Picture your “happy place”

Play a game with your kids

Play with a pet

Practice breathing exercises

Pray

Put on lotion that smells good

Read a book

Reframe the way you are thinking about the problem

Squeeze a stress ball

Smile

Spend time in nature

Take a bath

Take care of your body in a way that makes you feel good (paint your nails, do your hair, put on a face mask)

Think of something funny

Use a relaxation app

Use aromatherapy

Use progressive muscle relaxation

Write in a journal

Healthy Problem-Focused Coping Skills

There are many ways you might decide to tackle a problem head-on and eliminate the source of your stress. In some cases, that may mean changing your behavior or creating a plan that helps you know what action you’re going to take.

In other situations, problem-focused coping may involve more drastic measures, like changing jobs or cutting someone out of your life. Here are some examples of healthy problem-focused coping skills:

Ask for support from a friend or a professional.

Create a to-do list.

Engage in problem-solving.

Establish healthy boundaries (tell your friend you aren’t going to spend time with her if she makes fun of you).

Walk away (leave a situation that is causing you stress).

Work on managing your time better (for example, turn off the alerts on your phone).

Unhealthy Coping Skills to Avoid

Just because a strategy helps you endure emotional pain, it doesn’t mean it’s healthy. Some coping skills could create bigger problems in your life. Here are some examples of unhealthy coping skills:

Drinking alcohol or using drugs: Substances may temporarily numb your pain, but they won’t resolve your issues. Substances are likely to introduce new problems into your life. Alcohol, for example, is a depressant that can make you feel worse. Using substances also puts you at risk for developing a substance abuse problem and it may create legal issues, financial problems, and a variety of social issues.

Overeating: Food is a common coping strategy. But, trying to “stuff your feelings” with food can lead to an unhealthy relationship with food—and weight issues. Sometimes people go to the other extreme and restrict their eating (because it makes them feel more in control) and clearly, that can be just as unhealthy.

Sleeping too much: Whether you take a nap when you’re stressed out or you sleep late to avoid facing the day, sleeping offers a temporary escape from your problems. However, when you wake up, the problem will still be there.

Venting to others: Talking about your problems so that you can gain support, develop a solution, or see a problem in a different way can be healthy. But studies show1 repeatedly venting to people about how bad your situation is or how terrible you feel is more likely to keep you stuck in a place of pain.

Overspending: While many people say they enjoy retail therapy as a way to feel better, shopping can become unhealthy. Owning too many possessions can add stress to your life. Also, spending more than you can afford will only backfire in the end and cause more stress.

Avoiding things: Even “healthy” coping strategies can become unhealthy if you’re using them to avoid the problem. For example, if you are stressed about your financial situation, you might be tempted to spend time with friends or watch TV because that’s less anxiety-provoking than creating a budget. But if you never resolve your financial issues, your coping strategies are only masking the problem.

Proactive Coping

Coping skills are usually discussed as a reactive strategy—when you feel bad, you do something to cope. But, research shows2 that proactive coping strategies can be an effective way to manage the future obstacles you’re likely to face.

For example, if you have worked hard to lose weight, proactive coping strategies could help you maintain your weight after your weight loss program has ended. You might plan ahead for circumstances that might derail you—like the holiday season or dinner invitations from friends—to help you cope.

You also might plan ahead for how you’re going to cope with emotions that previously caused you to snack—like boredom or loneliness. And you might prepare a mantra that you’ll repeat to yourself when you’re tempted to give in to temptation.

Proactive coping has been found to be an effective way to help people deal with predictable changes, like a decline in income during retirement.

However, coping can also be used to help people deal with unexpected life changes, such as a major change in health. A 2014 study3 found that individuals who engaged with proactive coping were better able to deal with the changes they encountered after having a stroke.

Another study4 found that people who engaged in proactive coping were better equipped to manage their type 2 diabetes. Participants who planned ahead and set realistic goals enjoyed better psychological well-being.

So, if you are facing a stressful life event or you’ve undergone a major change, try planning ahead. Consider the skills you can use to cope with the challenges you’re likely to face.

When you have a toolbox ready to go, you’ll know what to do. And that could help you to feel better equipped to face the challenges ahead.

Find What Works for You

The coping strategies that work for someone else might not work for you. Going for a walk might help your partner calm down. But you might find going for a walk when you’re angry causes you think more about why you’re mad—and it fuels your angry feelings. So you might decide watching a funny video for a few minutes helps you relax.

It's important to develop your own toolkit of coping skills that you’ll find useful. You may need to experiment with a variety of coping strategies to help you discover which ones work best for you.

You might find that certain coping strategies work best for specific issues or emotions. For example, engaging in a hobby may be an effective way to unwind after a long day at work. But, going for a walk in nature might be the best approach when you’re feeling sad.

When it comes to coping skills, there’s always room for improvement. So, assess what other tools and resources you can use and consider how you might continue to sharpen your skills in the future.

Read Article Here

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

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Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

Something For You

Pairing: Jackson Wang x female reader

Genre: fluff / roommates to lovers

Warnings: implied nudity through bathing

Word count: 1855

Jackson couldn’t watch you hobble about in good conscience anymore. It had been going on for days now, and each time he saw you, it seemed that your legs were barely coping with the strenuous activity you were enduring.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him whenever he questioned your unusual gait, the grimace mixed in with your smile not convincing him in the slightest. You were definitely in pain, the gasps of air and the deliberate effort it took for you to get out of a chair only concerning him further.

He knew your office moving buildings was going to be exhausting, but Jackson wondered if you were doing too much. Had you not hired movers to lift the heavier items? Surely it would be cost-effective to employ manpower than run yourself past the point of no return.

Deciding he had to do something – anything – for you, Jackson stopped by a pharmacy on his way home. Armed with various muscle soaks and topical creams, he waited for you to return to the apartment you shared. Dinner was being served up when you made your way through the front door, struggling to get up the step into the living area.

Shaking his head, Jackson came over and helped you before clucking his tongue at you. “Enough, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“You need to rest.”

“There’s one more day of-”

“You won’t survive another day of this,” he pointed out, and your gaze lowered knowingly. Jackson sighed before pushing a smile onto his lips. “I cooked dinner.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Were you going to stand here after doing all you have today and fix yourself something nutritious?” he wondered, and your brief look in his direction confirmed his suspicions. “Ramen is not going to help you recover back your energy!”

“Thank you,” you mentioned as you allowed him to help you over to the table where a pasta dish sat waiting. It took you some angling of your body before you managed to sit down comfortably enough, and then you eyed the food with interest. “Woah, you went all out!”

“Hardly. Maybe I need to cook more often around here if you think this pasta dish is me putting on a good display of my cooking skills,” he boasted, and you giggled, a sound he hadn’t heard from you all week. It fuelled Jackson on, ensuring you spent the meal smiling the whole time. Although you had only been housemates for a short period of time, you were special to him. And after you had helped him get over a cold last month, watching you suffer now made him determined to return the favour.

It also just pained him far too much as a fellow human to see you struggle.

After dinner, you headed into your bedroom, and Jackson waited twenty minutes before launching into phase two. He started running you a bath, adding a generous amount of the muscle soak to the water. The bubbles overfilled the tub, and he was satisfied with how inviting it looked.

Knocking gently on your door, Jackson then entered your space, finding you at your desk, slumping over your laptop with evident distress from how much your back hurt. Jackson came to your side and shut the lid down. “I said rest!”

“Jackson! I have to find some time to work too!”

“Not tonight. You’ve done enough.”

“I’m too sore to go to bed and sleep right now,” you mumbled in response, and he nodded, helping you to your feet.

“I know, which is why I did something for you.”

You glanced at him curiously. “What?”

“Come with me,” he urged, helping you into the bathroom and the pointed to his efforts.

However, your reaction wasn’t what he had hoped for. “Oh. A bath.”

“I stopped by a pharmacy and picked you up a muscle soak,” he explained and whilst your eyes flashed with gratitude, you still didn’t seem overwhelmed. Perhaps you were too tired to show such emotion.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy it. Make sure you stay in there until the water cools off!” he enthused, shutting the door behind himself.

Jackson hoped it would relieve some of the tension.

The following morning over breakfast, Jackson eyed you carefully. You seemed to be ambling along with a little more ease, and this brightened his mood tremendously. You had gone to bed right after the bath last night, so he didn’t have a chance to ask if it helped until now.

You glanced up at him and smiled awkwardly. “I mean, it helped. Thank you.”

“Why do I sense a but in there?” he asked cautiously, and you bit at your bottom lip. “Did I overstep my boundaries as a housemate?”

“Oh no!” you gushed, waving your hands about dismissively. “It’s just… I don’t really have baths.”

“Ah.”

“It’s nothing traumatic, so don’t worry. I’m touched you thought to help me as you did. I don’t understand the concept of baths, though. I mean, what do you exactly do in them?”

Jackson frowned. “Well, you lay there and relax.”

“You and I both know I don’t know how to do that well,” you replied with a chuckle, shaking your head softly. “I sat there, and for a bit it was nice, but then my brain got bored with laying there and I started to overthink about things. How long do you wait it out?”

Jackson stared at you for a moment in silence, and then a snort left him. It was followed by a loud bout of laughter until he had to hold onto his side and try to calm himself down when he noticed your arched eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard anyone complain about how to take a bath before.”

“Well, my points make some sense. You see in the movies everyone is covered and soaking with pure happiness, drinking wine or reading a book. I don’t drink wine, and wouldn’t the book get wet if you lay down to cover yourself properly? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as those in movies. I definitely had to move around to keep parts of my body that were exposed warm in there.”

“You’re serious.”

“Completely,” you responded, and Jackson’s humour eased. He hadn’t ever thought about it. He had just taken a bath when his body required it and not really contemplated what it would be like for others.

“So it didn’t help you at all?” he wondered, slightly dejected. He had hoped you would feel better from it.

You sighed heavily. “That’s the problem I’m faced with. It did. My legs didn’t hurt as much to get out of bed this morning. So I guess I now need to learn how to enjoy a bath until I feel better.”

“I can help you,” he offered, and you cocked your head to the side with his words. Jackson grinned. “Not physically. But maybe I can give you some distractions to allow the soak time to not end in a rumination session.”

“Really?”

“Sure. If it’s helped even a little, it’s worth trying again, right?”

That night, you came home and had a bath. Jackson had recommended you listen to a podcast during the session, and it appeared you lasted longer in there. The following day, you had another and mentioned after that you had played with the bubbles for a bit as you once had as a child.

You seemed more relaxed within the bathtub.

And your legs, once swollen and hard to maneuver, were starting to look better from what he could tell. Jackson was pleased his efforts had helped with some of the recovery.

You smiled brightly at him when he returned home from work the next evening. Jackson gaped at you and then back at the door. “Since when do you beat me home from work?”

“Since I listened to your advice and took the afternoon off. And I had another bath.”

He smirked. “I thought you weren’t a bath person?”

“Well, that muscle soak really helped ease the pain. I figured it was worth getting through my discomfort if it meant I could function again.”

“So I did something right by you?”

“Don’t you always? You’re the best housemate I’ve ever had,” you told him genuinely, and Jackson was surprised that your compliment made his stomach erupt in flutters.

Blinking several times, he wondered if there was more to how special you were to him now.

“I’m going to run you a bath. I need to do something for you!”

Jackson chuckled heartily as he slowly moved through the house. It was ironic how years ago he had been the one to convince you of the magic in relaxation for your aching body in the bathtub. Now, he didn’t even have to say much to hear the tub filling up regularly. You poked your head around the corner of the bedroom door and grinned at him. “I put a lot of muscle soak in. I thought you said you were fit.”

“I didn’t realise that playing tennis against a pro would hurt this much,” Jackson lamented, and you pouted, walking towards him and reaching out for the bottom of his sports tee, lifting it over his head as gently as you could.

Jackson hissed as his shoulders dropped too quickly, and the pain seared again.

“You poor baby,” you cooed, and Jackson nodded, relishing in the special care you were giving him in his time of need.

It was out of compassion that the pair of you had gone from housemates to something more intimate. He had helped you when you suffered from pain moving office, and then you helped him when he got stressed out. With each time that you did something for the other, you grew closer, and soon it was at a level where you loved on each other through the hardships and highlights that life threw at you both.

Just as right now, your adoration was evident as you led Jackson down to the bathroom.

He eased into the tub with several groans, and you ran your hand repeatedly through his hair, hoping to relax him further. It was working, as was the muscle soak on his weary body.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked, and Jackson nodded once. “What do you need?”

“You.”

“I’m right here.”

Jackson nodded towards the bathtub. “It’s big enough for us both to share.”

“You are sore,” you pointed out and rolled your eyes when he pouted dramatically. “Seriously?”’

“I’m sure I’ll feel much better with your comfort in here with me.”

“Are you after a massage, Jackson Wang?”

He grinned. “That would be nice.”

“I’ll make sure you pay me back when it’s my next bout of body issues,” you warned as you started to strip off your clothes, stepping into the tub and moving close enough so you could work on the knots in his shoulders.

Jackson stared at you for a moment before shifting close enough to reach your lips, kissing you passionately. When he pulled away, Jackson smiled up at you. “I like baths better when they’re with you.”

_________________

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (12)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 7,1K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Notes: It’s on Hyunjin’s POV, so You is actually him here lol

A little bit earlier just because I want to. I think you guys will like this one because Hyunjin is kinda horny here. “kinda”. He’s horny. But anyway. Wish you a good read~

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Updates: Tuesdays

Tagging: @aliceu @thatrandomoneinthecorner @channiewoo @bythesunnotbythemoon

////

HYUNJIN’S POV

Y/N was the clingy drunk.

You would never imagine that Y/N would show up unannounced at your home around… Ten? Maybe 11 PM? But the scene you had on the other side of your eye door was clear: She was gloomy and devasted, head lowered and bag being held tight to her chest. You had opened the door knowing you would regret this. The regret you would have by letting her alone outside would be way worse, though, so you let her in.

“Chan isn’t home” Was the first thing you said as you stepped aside. You expected an upset retort, maybe even a teasing one, but what you got in return was her head lifting, eyes locking with yours.

She had been crying.

You had plenty of experience with crying girls ─ not that it was something to brag about ─ but you never had a friend crying right in front of you. As a good friend and human, you stood there with your mouth agape, without a clue of what to do. She averted her eyes, embarrassed by your reaction, and muttered a “Can I come in?” so small that it could almost break your heart.

What the fuck had happened?

You gestured for her to come in, eagerly, watching as she dragged herself, kind of curled up as if she was trying to hide from the world. You had seen Y/N mad, happy, annoyed, embarrassed… You had never seen her broken like this. You decided not to ask much, and she made her way to your kitchen, picking up all the alcohol that had been left there from your “party” on Friday.

If you knew any better, you would have stopped her sooner.

Now was a little bit too late for that as she squeezed your thigh for the tenth time that night, body leaning to your side as she rested her head on your shoulder. She rambled about something you couldn’t make sense, complaining about how she couldn’t understand how everyone was so messed up around her.

As far as you figured, she fought with someone.

Maybe more people.

It could also be about a baby or a small animal? Really, you weren’t following it anymore.

“… And you were right!” She hiccupped. It could also be a laugh. Maybe a sob? You looked at her blankly, not expecting to understand anything by now, just too lost to keep trying to get what she was saying “Congrats!” She giggled, throwing her hands up.

“Thanks” You answered anyway, patting her back. She chuckled again ─ slapping you lightly as if you had said a great joke ─ before she resumed crying, covering her eyes with her hands as her body jolted with her hiccups. You widened your eyes, startled at the roller coaster of emotions she was riding for the night, adjusting yourself so you could sit with your full body turned to her, cross-legged on the couch.

She mumbled something confusing, and you held her shoulders firmly so she would look at you. She didn’t, so you shook her body gently, and this was enough to make her take her hands away from her eyes and look at you inquisitively.

“That’s okay… Everything is going to be okay” You assured her, even though you didn’t know what the hell you were reassuring her about. She didn’t seem to buy your words (and you couldn’t really blame her for this), pouting to hold back her tears. Her lips quivered, brows knotting as her eyes glittered with her tearing up. Oh boy…

“They hate me” She stated sorrowfully. The first statement you could understand. And it was enough to fuel you with new hope of being able to help her somehow. You tightened your grip on her shoulders, inviting her to look at your eyes, which she did, and you locked your gaze with hers with the most serious feature you could gather.

“Of course they don’t” Who were they? It didn’t really matter. You maintained your gaze stern enough for her to believe your words, and finally, she sobbed, nodding in understanding. You let out a relieved sigh, letting go of her shoulders “It’s all good now, okay? Tomorrow morning we can talk to them and everything will be fine” You promised.

She wouldn’t even remember what you said by tomorrow morning.

“How did you know?” She asked sadly, looking into your eyes like a lost puppy. That was a great question because you didn’t have any idea of what you were supposed to know at this point. So you arched your brows, looking like a deer in headlights, stuttering to get your words out.

“W-Well, wasn’t it obvious?” You offered, uncertain, and she seemed to buy it, sighing in disappointment. She nodded, shrugging right after, the pout never leaving her lips. You fought back the urge to sigh in relief, settling for exhaling slowly, afraid she would realize you didn’t know what was going on.

She stared at you for a few seconds, blinking repeatedly, deadpanned.

You just wished she was drunk enough to not realize your obliviousness.

“Thank you…” She muttered, kneeling on the couch. You looked at her confused, the frown you had dissolved quickly into a startled ─more to desperate, really─ expression when she put her hands on your chest, close to your shoulders, supporting herself. You gulped down as she leaned closer, knee coming to the gap between your shin and your crotch, brushing slightly against your lower half.

Not that you particularly noticed it.

Because you didn’t. Really.

“You’re a great friend” She giggled, hands sliding from your chest to entangle your neck, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t point out what it was exactly.

Maybe it was her arms involving your neck, fingers playing with your hair. Maybe it was the drowsy smile she threw your way, too soft to your heart. Maybe it was the way she rested her head on your shoulder, facing the crook of your neck. Maybe it was her hot breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver.

Maybe it was her knee brushing against your dick.

Yeah, it was definitely her knee brushing against your dick.

But you felt something in the pit of your stomach.

You swallowed dry, slowly leaning back in a vain attempt to get some space but she just came along with you, resting her body on top of yours as you trapped yourself under her weight. Well, of course, lay back couldn’t be a good idea for the moment. She tightened her grip around your neck, adjusting herself on your lap to be more comfortable.

The issue was that her being comfortable meant her legs on each side of your body.

Her legs on each side of your body meant she was straddling you.

Oh, dear God, if you really exist—

You couldn’t even finish your thought as she moved her head, lips too close to your earlobe. You inhaled sharply, holding your breath and shutting your eyes as you clenched your jaw. She hummed, satisfied at her positioning, exhaling a hot breath right over your ear. You could feel her warmth emanating, consuming your body in each inch of skin in contact.

“Hm… Y/N?” You risked in a string of voice, opening your eyes slowly to fix them on the ceiling. She hummed against your neck and her breath was starting to get to your head. You wouldn’t say which one “What about we go sleep, hm? Sounds nice?” You offered as if you were talking to a child. She whined, displeased by your suggestion. Apparently, she was way too comfortable on your lap.

You swallowed dry again, closing your eyes slowly as you felt her changing her position once again. Why, Lord, couldn’t she find a damn good position and stop grinding against your dick? That was a poor choice of thoughts. As soon as you let your mind wander down there, you held back a whine, throwing your head back to pray for mercy as you got more conscious about what was happening to your body by the second.

It was impossible not to feel the blood rushing down, hardening your dick against your will. At the same time, the blood seemed to rush up, making you all flustered, even if she was too drunk to notice it now. She didn’t seem to mind your bulge ─she probably wasn’t even paying attention to it─, and some sick part of your mind wished for a split of a second that she could just sober up out of nowhere and mind it.

Maybe mind it enough to the point of helping you out.

Nop! You didn’t just think this.

Okay, Okay Okay.

Cool, Cool, Cool.

You definitely shouldn’t be thinking like this! You should be gathering all your strength and willpower to push her away from you. That was what you were supposed to be doing right now. But what if she started crying again? Or maybe even worse! What if she just decided to do something else? Like keep moving nonstop… She was clingy as fuck right now.

Another poor choice of thoughts.

You definitely didn’t let your mind wander around the mere mention of the word fuck. Not at all. Especially because she’s your friend now. Do you remember this? Friends? Like just friends? You were sure the word friend stood up for that one you’re not allowed to fuck. In Latin. Or whatever. Whichever language stated this, it was right. That was the exact reason why you were in peace right now. The non fucking friend peaceful state. Totally fine and unfuckable. Like friends.

Cool.

Fine.

Perfectly unaware of grinding bodies and their effects on your lower half.

Please, God, let me out of here.

As if on cue, you heard the door being unlocked. You threw your head back to watch it, ready to beg Chan for his help. She didn’t move an inch, staying attached to you like a koala. Chan opened the door, locking it behind him before turning around to really look at the couch. He flinched, staring blankly at you before amusement filled his eyes by the second.

“Please help me out” You pleaded, making the best puppy eyes you could handle to do. He made his way to the TV, standing in front of there before looking for something in his pockets. When you saw his phone in his hands, you let out a whine, glaring at him as you silently asked for mercy.

“There’s no way I’ll let this chance slide” He shrugged you off, and you just knew he had taken those photos. Great. Would you ever live it down? Chan’s voice seemed to awaken something inside Y/N’s head, so she adjusted herself once more, lifting her torso a little bit to look at her friend with a drowsy smile.

The slow movement demanded some weight shifting, and, of course, she shifted it all to your lap. You groaned, hand going to rub your face, refusing to look at Chan right now. She laid down again on your chest, giving up on being friendly and settling for being sleepy. Lord, couldn’t she just decide what she was going to do?

“You don’t seem too bothered by it” Chan teased, a smirk on his face and an arched eyebrow made it clear he didn’t intend to help you out right now “I would even risk saying that you’re enjoying quite a bit” He added, and it was impossible to bear his smugness.

“Look, I have a hot chick up on me right now… Can you really blame me? Also, she’s your friend! You should be concerned and helping her out, okay? I’m your friend too! You could give me a hand!” You complained, and you knew you screwed up when his smirk morphed into a grin.

“Oh? A hot chick?” He teased, and you closed your eyes in regret.

“I mean a chick” You corrected but it was too late.

“Yeah, but a hot one” His voice dripped with a knowing tone that made you open your eyes again, looking at him in defeat.

“No, just a chick… Listen, can’t you give me a hand?” You cried, looking expectantly at him. Chan seemed to wonder, hand going to cup his chin as if he was in deep thought, eyes narrowing before fixing on you in a silent mockery.

“Sorry, I don’t really like boys” He apologized obnoxiously. You could punch his face right now. Was this the guy you wanted to keep being friends with and fought over with Y/N for? Great deal! “So I can’t really give you a hand… You’ll have to deal with it for yourself” He sighed in mock guilty, making your blood boil. You clicked your tongue before grimacing at him, hands trailing to Y/N’s hips, getting his attention, sharp eyes fixing on your hands like a hawk.

“You know what? I may have to get off…” You agreed, voice dripping with venom as you approached your lips to Y/N’s ears “Wouldn’t you give a helping hand to your friend?” You whispered in a tantalizing tone, loud enough for Chan to hear and finally snap at the situation.

Y/N nodded ─ oblivious to your fake intentions, and smiling cutely at you, ready to help you out with whatever you needed ─, and you felt almost guilty to play with Chan like this as he strode your way upset. You held back your laughter, watching as he took her away from your lap, helping her to balance herself and guiding her arm around his neck as he tried to get her to his room in a stumbling mess. You sighed in relief as you realized that she wasn’t in your lap anymore and you survived this awkward moment, sitting on the couch and fixing your lost gaze straight ahead, pondering.

You weren’t naïve.

Y/N never had caught your attention as a woman… She was just that annoying friend your best friend had. She was like that constant presence in your life reminding you that you couldn’t get the spot you really wanted, and you put effort into being the same for her. For years. Those years seemed to culminate in a battle-worthy tension between the both of you that was slowly melting through these last weeks, and yet you felt stiff around her.

And you didn’t mean stiff like you were now.

It was almost like there was an invisible force preventing you to get closer to her, keeping both of you apart even though you had been trying to be friendlier lately. Sometimes you felt like you had to knock to get in, and sometimes you felt like she was already opening the door for you. There was a constant feeling of not knowing if you were too much or enough, sometimes if you were even needed.

You never felt like this with another woman.

It wasn’t like you were in love with her or something like this! It was just that if you intended to have Chan being part of your life, you had to allow her in. She had to allow you in. And as much you were allowed inside a lot of women throughout your life, this was a totally different matter. You were always the desirable one… Women wanted you, craved for you. It was as simple as that. They came for you and you came for them ─ quite literally, to be honest ─, and then you never exchanged more than a few words with them later on.

It was easy.

Your relationship with Y/N wasn’t easy…

You were growing fond of her (You really were!), but you felt always on edge as if anything you did could put everything at risk. You wanted her to like you… Maybe ask you for lunch instead of simply parting ways when she involved you in her stratagem… Or maybe actually wanting to lie down on the grass and spend some time with you while watching dramas… Or maybe just letting you pay for stuff, just like Chan did.

You wanted to be her friend.

You craved for being accepted into their bubble, and yet you still felt… Off. Like you didn’t belong with them. You knew you were being ridiculous, and Chan said that to you thousands of times, but what could you do? That was how you felt. Anxious. Tensed up. Stressed out. And all that tension, all those pin-up emotions gurgled out of you like… Like you were a teenage boy with a girl sitting on your lap for the first time in your whole life.

You were frustrated.

You could see she was a woman! Of course, you could! You weren’t blind, right? The issue was that you only knew a single way of ultimate bonding with female beings… Sex. You groaned as you felt your friend twitching inside your pants, throwing your head back on the couch as you stared at the ceiling once more. What would be better for bonding than sex? Nothing that you were aware of until now…

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by a loud grunt from Chan, and a dull thud reached your ears, prompting you to get up and go to his room; peeking over the doorframe to find Chan sprawled over her. You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned on the doorframe, shooting him a teasing look before he glared at you, trying to brace himself but being held tight by her to the point he couldn’t move. Y/N had her hands around his neck and legs around his hips ─ looking pretty much like a koala ─, eyes closed and mouth agape as she began to make her way into Morpheus's arms.

“She’s pretty drunk” You pointed out, and Chan gave you a mocking surprised grimace, groaning as he tried to get away from her arms but failing as she only wrapped him tighter as he moved “It looks like someone is enjoying themselves” You smirked, and Chan rested his forehead on the pillow, chin brushing Y/N’s shoulder, before sighing and lifting his head to shoot you a pointed look.

“At least I don’t get a boner!” He sneered, trying to at least roll to his side “Good Lord…” He cried, muffled by his pillow once again as he buried his face in distress, unable to roll “Why did you let her drink that much? I just wanted to have a good night…” He whined, face still hidden from you.

“She had a fight with someone, I guess” You explained “She just kept drinking and rambling… To be honest with you, I didn’t get anything she said” You admitted, chuckling as he lifted his head once more, turning his face to you with a pout “Try to talk to her tomorrow morning… Maybe evening? She’ll wake up with the worst hangover she will ever have” You grimaced, watching as she snored, already peacefully sleeping.

“Thank you” Chan mumbled, and you arched your brows in surprise, tilting your head in confusion “It means a lot to me… Seeing both of you getting along, you know? Also, you let her in and listened to her…” He frowned as if he was thinking twice about his statement “Well… Even if you didn’t really pay attention” He laughed “It still means a lot to me that you tried to take care of her when I wasn’t around” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“What are friends even for?” You gave him a small smile.

“Certainly not to get a boner for” He answered with a smirk, and you rolled your eyes, groaning “We will totally talk about it in the future” He chuckled, eyes glinting in amusement “I won’t let you live it down, I swear to God!” You turned off the lights, sighing as you reached for the doorknob in an attempt to end this conversation “Hyunjin” He called, his tone suddenly firm.

“Hm?” The door creaked as you opened it a little, allowing the light to softly illuminate his features, revealing a deadly serious mien.

“I don’t think I even need to say that… But don’t you dare touch her as you do with other women” He warned dryly “I’m being playful about this because I know you didn’t mean anything by it... But if you play around with her for even a second–“

“I can’t even think about fucking her” You lied, chuckling “She’s all yours, buddy… I just want to be friends” At least, this you meant for real “I didn’t have much time to release my frustrations with all those assignments, and exams coming up” You shrugged “I’m just a little bit hornier than the usual” You laughed, trying to reassure him.

“Just keep it inside your pants” He said kinda jokingly but you could still hear the silent threat under his tone “She deserves someone who loves her… And unless you have something new to say to me…” You snorted, shaking your head to deny the suggestion.

“No, I don’t” You assured him, observing how he tried to roll to her side once more, finally succeeding and letting out a relieved sigh, “Now let me sleep, will ya? I’ve already been kept up long enough by your protégé” You joked, closing the door as he adjusted her to his side, trying to get a better position to sleep.

“Goodnight” You heard him muttering when you closed the door.

“Goodnight” You answered, even if you weren’t sure it was meant for you.

////

You woke up with morning wood.

You groaned, pressing your palms against your eyes as you felt the shame wash over you ─ crushing you against the mattress and making you sink in your bed, devasted ─ before your rested your hands on your chest and fixed your gaze on the ceiling. You bit your lip, glancing at your groin as you wondered if it would be that bad to take care of it… You weren’t doing anything wrong, right? It was perfectly normal to get hard to the thought of… Of what? You couldn’t even remember what you had just dreamed.

You slid your hand down your body cautiously, closing your eyes as soon as you felt your palm against yourself, gasping. You had to contact some of your hookups someday, it wasn’t going to do you any good to keep thirsty like this. You pinched the waistband of your boxers, ready to slip your hand in and get rid of your problem before the door opened with a creak. You jolted your body up, hand snapping back to the mattress as you swiveled your head to confront the intruder, meeting Y/N’s gaze as soon as you turned around.

“Oh! Morning” You blurted out, startled. She came into your room without your permission, closing the door behind her and locking it, turning around to look at you with coy eyes before biting her lips. You gulped down, scanning her from head to toes “What do you want?” You asked warily, licking your lips as she made her way to your bed.

“You” She muttered under her breath, leaning in your way “And I think you want me too” She whispered, palming you above your pants, enticing a groan from you. The moment was insanely bewildering, and you could only gasp as she slowly passed one of her legs to the other side of your body, lowering her body to sit right on your groin. You shot your hands to her hips, holding her down so she couldn’t move, feeling your throat go dry as you looked into her lustful eyes.

Holy fucking shit.

“Look, I promised Chan I wouldn’t lay a hand on you…” You tried to reason but your thumbs rubbed circles on her hips unconsciously, and you had to use every single fiber on your body to not just squeeze that flesh and throw your friendship out of the window. She chuckled ─ something closer to a low purr than actual laughter ─, fingers going to your lips to shush you on a sexy motion that could have made you lose your mind with any other girl.

But not with her.

You couldn’t lose your mind with her.

“So don’t use your hands” She whispered against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your body “I’ll do all the work for you…” She nibbled your earlobe as she placed her hands over yours, guiding you to squeeze her hips before locking her fingers with yours, pulling your hands above your head to pin your down “… Hyunjin” Her voice sounded like dripping honey, warm and full of sweet promises that you were more than up to take.

“We can’t be loud” You gave in and she smirked against your jaw, placing an open-mouth kiss there and tracing a path to the crook of your neck “H-He can’t know…” You added, voice trembling when she lowered her kisses to your collarbone, biting on your skin at the same time she rolled her hips, making you grunt.

It was like your moan was cloistered inside your chest, ready to be all let out now that you had her above you. She chuckled against your skin, adjusting her hold on your wrists to tease you with her other hand ─ her nails on a featherlike brushing down on your body ─, enticing one more groan from the depths of your chest.

“I’m not the one moaning like a bitch in heat, am I?” She asked amusedly.

Yeah, she really wasn’t.

You know what? Fuck it.

“I think we should change that” You suggested in an alluring tone before yanking your hands away from hers to hold her waist and invert your positions. You hovered over her like a predator to his prey, letting the sexual tension between both of you build-up to the point it was hard to breathe. You leaned closer to her, taking your time to tease her, getting off on how she withheld her breath, expecting your next motion “Be as loud as you want… I’m about to fuck your brains out of you” You smirked against her ear, letting your breath spread there just enough to make her shiver before sucking on her neck to get the most lustful moan you have ever heard.

Good girl.

Your phone blasted your ringtone for dear life.

You jolted your body up as you shot your eyes open, looking around the place to make sense of what was happening. There was no one to be seen under you, or above you, or anywhere else for that matter. Holy fucking crap… You had a wet dream. You brought both of your hands to your face like you were about to pray for some forgiveness, but you just inhaled deeply, utterly in shock at what had just happened.

And your phone had no respect for your embarrassing moment.

You reached for your phone like it was your worst enemy, taking the call without even looking at whoever was calling you on a Saturday morning. You pressed the button and slid it to the side, bringing the phone to your ear, spitting an upset “Hello”, and prepared to send this person to the ends of hell if it wasn’t the most fucking important thing in the whole world.

You shouldn’t be so enraged by this situation, and some part of you felt ashamed for your reaction. Were you upset because someone was calling you early in the morning? Or were you upset because this call interrupted your dream? You cleared your throat, dropping the thought as soon as it flickered in the back of your mind.

“—Hello? Hyunjin? Are you there?” Paris’s voice sounded through the line in a worried tone “Hey? Hyunjin? Did he hang up on me?” She mumbled, confused, and you took the moment to clear your throat once more.

“Hey! Yeah, Hyunjin speaking” You sighed “Why are you calling me this early?” You whined, and she scoffed on the other side.

“It’s noon” She pointed out in a judgmental voice “Also, is Y/N with you guys? Did she sleep there?” You could tell the expectation under her voice was a mix of frustration, fear, and hope, and as soon as you hummed to confirm it, she let out a relieved sigh “Oh! Good!” You waited for a second but she kept silent on the other side, just her breathing assuring you that she was still there. You pursed your lips, unsure if you should just end your call, before her breath halted, catching your attention.

Paris was acting strangely.

“Why didn’t you call her?” You asked suspiciously and she withheld her breath as if you had just caught her red-handed “You guys fought, didn’t you?” She hummed, clearly embarrassed, so you let out a tired huff “Do you want me to put her on the phone?” You asked tiredly, and she gasped on the other side.

“Would you do this for me?!” She beamed, making you chuckle.

“You can build me an altar or something” You joked, getting up from your bed to head to Chan’s room “I’ll warn you that she drank like a son of a bitch yesterday… She’s having a hangover for sure” You stated, knocking on Chan’s door and waiting for him to answer you “Hold on” You asked, covering your phone.

“Come in!” He shouted before you could call him, and you opened the door to meet a shirtless Chan closing the bathroom’s door behind him, holding a towel around his waist before fixing it. He shot you a curious look, ruffling his hair with another towel and making water droplets splash everywhere, unbothered. You roamed your eyes around the room, looking for Y/N but finding only an empty bed with messy sheets “What is it?” He asked bluntly, arched brow questioning you.

“I’m looking for Y/N, Paris wants to talk to her” You explained, showing your phone to him as if he could read it from the other side of his room “She’s not here?” The answer to it was clear ─ unless she suddenly went invisible ─, but Chan didn’t seem to mind it. He gestured mindlessly to his side, pointing with his thumb to the bathroom before hanging his towel around his neck and looking for some clothes in his closet.

“She’s taking a bath” He answered distracted, studying his collection of exactly the same black blouses “Maybe ask her to call later… Y/N didn’t wake up on the right foot today, to be honest” He mused, picking up one of his shirts and putting it back without a second thought “She didn’t even let me take care of her” He added, finally settling with a black shirt that had no difference to the last one he had pulled, smiling satisfied at it.

“Hey, she’s in the bath” You said monotonously to Paris “Yeah, maybe call her later?” You suggested, nodding as she thanked you, saying goodbye to finish your call. You lowered your hand, holding your phone next to your waist as you stared at Chan, who seemed to notice your awkward behavior, choosing to ignore it to search for black sweatpants to combine with his black shirt.

“What? Do you want me to strip for you or something?” He laughed, tossing his clothes on his bed as he headed to the drawer to search for some underwear “If you’re curious about them, I don’t know anything either” He shrugged, picking up his underwear and turning around to face you “She slept like a baby last night and we didn’t talk much this morning” He chuckled, staring the bed with an amused look.

You could tell.

“Look at this… She’s like a wild animal” He pointed to the sheets, chuckling, and you grimaced. Too much information, buddy. You hummed, nodding to acknowledge his statement but keeping silent, shrugging and turning around to get out of his room. You hesitated for a moment, turning around once again before coughing to get his attention.

“Try to talk to her when she comes out… I think she would listen to you better than she would to me” You suggested, biting your lips “I mean, it must have been pretty serious… She cried a lot last night, and Paris didn’t even know she was here” He tilted his head at your statement, seeming to ponder something.

“I have known her for a long time… I don’t think anything I can tell her now will make her call Paris if they fought that badly” He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest “I can certainly try, though” He added quickly, heading to his bed to fix the sheets “I’ll talk to her later… Let her have her moment, for now, I don’t think she’s feeling well enough yet” He concluded, sitting on his bed to look at you.

“Yeah, of course…” You nodded, motioning to get out of his bedroom “Do you want some coffee? I think I’ll make some for me” You offered, and he frowned at you in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

“You don’t drink coffee” He stated matter-of-factly, arching his brow.

“Of course I do!” You scoffed, sounding fake even to your ears, and averting your gaze from him.

“No, you don’t… I live with you for ages, Hyunjin, I am the only one who drinks it in this house” He inhaled sharply in sudden realization, letting a smirk slowly spread through his features “Actually… I may know one more person who likes to drink it” You didn’t need to look at Chan’s face to see that he was mocking you silently with that I-See-You-I-Know-You look, brows arched and eyes glinting in amusement.

“I’m just trying to cheer her up a little bit” You muttered grudgingly “Isn’t it what friends do?” You returned your gaze to him, and he smiled sincerely at you, nodding as his eyes softened, his playfulness dissolving into gratitude.

“Yes, it is” He agreed “Thank you for taking care of her… I’m glad you guys are getting along well" He admitted, glancing at his clothes before looking at you “Though I think you’re being too attentive since yesterday” His smile turned into a teasing grin “Be careful to not fall in love, horny boy” He mocked, and you groaned in embarrassment.

“Let it go” You pleaded, rolling your eyes in faux exasperation.

“Make me some coffee and I’ll think about it” He retorted, making you chuckle and nod as you closed his door with a jokingly ‘Yes, sir!’, making your way to the kitchen. You took a pan to fill it with water, leaning on the sink to watch the water flowing from the tap; the typical sound it made as it hit the surface making you uncomfortable. You grimaced, closing the tap and letting it rest on the oven, setting it to boil the water as you made your way to the bathroom.

You opened the door mindlessly ─ too lazy to go to your room and settling to go to the corridor’s bathroom ─, giving one step ahead before gasping and letting go of the doorknob in shock. You felt your airways block as you met the very too same thighs that held you in place earlier in your dreams, eyes wavering upward to her face and trying to ignore the amount of exposed skin that made you bit your lips. Y/N snapped her head at you, hands tugging down the shirt she was just finishing o put on, an attempt to hide her body from your eyes.

What the hell was she doing here?!

You closed the door with a slam, feeling your heart race inside your chest as you leaned on the closed door, hands going to check your heartbeat as your mouth fell agape. Wasn’t she in Chan’s bathroom?! What the hell was she doing there?! Holy fucking shit… It was just a female body, for lord’s sake! Nothing new under the sun. Yet, it was just a female body that you dreamt about... One that you were willingly going to fuck on your mind not too long ago.

The scene played on your mind once more.

Thighs that you would like spread apart with your own hands… A belly that you would kiss every inch until you reached for the very spot between her legs that for a split of a second made you gulp down, not so dryly as you thought about it… A neck that seemed like the perfect place to leave your marks… A face that you never thought you would like to corrupt… And eyes…

You frowned.

Eyes red and swollen that belonged to someone who has been crying.

“Y/N?” You hesitantly knocked on the door, resting your head on the surface as you waited for her answer that never came “Are you okay?” You asked softly, paying close attention to any noise that she could make.

“Y-Yeah…” She answered after a while, and you were sure she sniffed, probably wiping her tears away as she spoke up, a choked voice that didn’t let you any doubts “I’m fine” She added more firmly now, and you sighed.

“Can I come in?” You asked, uncertain of what you were doing, and she remained silent for a while.

“N-No” She finally answered, a weak string of voice that made your heart pang.

“Are you dressed up?” You turned around to rest your forehead on the door, waiting for her answer with your hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah…” She sighed in defeat, and you didn’t wait to open the door, walking in her direction.

She hugged herself as if her arms could pull her together, head slightly tilted down as she raised her gaze to watch you making your way to her. She looked broken ─ red eyes and bloated face showing that she had been crying for a while ─, trembling like a deer caught in headlights and hunching her back in a way that made her look small, probably just as much as she felt right now. You approached her, embracing her body silently to give her a reassuring hug, feeling how she tensed up under your hold.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, and her hands moved to your waist hesitantly “I know we’re not really friends, and you probably prefer to talk to Chan…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling like an intruder as she held the sides of your shirt. You felt all the blood running out from your brain, afraid she would just push you away on the spot, but she didn’t. She held your shirt tightly ─ face contorting for a split of a second when she did ─ but she didn’t pull you closer, staying like this into your hold.

“What are you talking about? We’re kinda friends… Aren’t we?” She asked unsurely, refusing to look at you. She rested her forehead on your chest, and you inhaled sharply as she did, startled by her question.

“I mean… Yeah? I think… Yeah, we kinda are” You agreed, floundering with your words. She relaxed into your arms, hands sliding to tangle around your waist, pulling you closer to her into a vulnerable hug that dissolved both of your tension. You tightened your grip around her, resting your chin on the top of her head before stroking her hair gently “Paris called… She wants to talk to you” You offered, unsure if it was a good call.

“She did?” Her tone was surprised, and she lifted her head to look into your eyes, head-butting you in the process. You closed one of your eyes, in pain, scrunching your nose as you looked at her “Sorry!” She blurted, hand shooting to your chin to study the damage she could have caused. You opened your eye, watching as she tilted your head to each side to take a better look at your face, admiring her worried features for a bit too long before clearing your throat.

“I’m okay” You muttered, gently holding her wrist to take her hand away from you, noticing how she winced in pain. You frowned, taking a look at her hand to spot a swollen and dark bruise that extended over the side of her palm, starting from the base of her little finger and down to her wrist. You returned your gaze to her eyes, worry plastered over your face, and she averted them from yours in embarrassment before you took her hand in yours, caressing it carefully “What happened?” You asked as she squirmed under your touch, face twisting once again.

“It’s nothing serious… I—“ You rolled your eyes, guiding her to sit on the toilet and leaving her for a second to take some ice pack on the fridge. When you returned, she eyed you curiously, making a surprised face as you took her hand once again to place the pack on her bruise, instructing her to hold it in place “It’s okay! You don’t have to worry, it’s just –“ You ignored her once again, opening the bathroom cabinet to look for some bandages.

“I’m not really good at this” You lied, taking the elastic bandage and looking at her flabbergasted features “What? Can’t I treat your wounds? I may not be a doctor-to-be like Chan but I can ice pack your bruises, okay?” You muttered grudgingly as you sat down on the floor, facing her with a subtle pout that you hoped she didn’t notice “And yes, she did call you” You changed the subject, propping your elbow on your knee and resting your cheek on your palm “You guys are going to be okay… There is nothing that could pull you apart” You promised, and she averted her eyes from you, ashamed.

“I was an ass to her” She sighed, and you tilted your head to take a better look at her eyes, prompting her to look away from you.

“Then apologize” You stated, nudging her with your foot so she would return her gaze at you, making her huff before looking at you.

“She was an ass to me” She lowered her gaze before fixing her eyes on yours, a wary expression over her face.

“To the point that you’d never want to talk to her again? Was it enough for you to give up on her?” You asked sincerely, and she shot her brows up, shaking her head vehemently.

“No! Of course not” She said eagerly, and you chuckled, leaning forward to pat her knee.

“Then forgive her” You offered her a small smile.

85 notes · View notes

nicolewoo · 3 years

Text

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

“Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

“I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

“Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

“Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

“Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

“Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

“On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

“An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

“I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

“Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.

She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.

“Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

“I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

“Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

“My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice. “I said nothing of the kind!”

“Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

“Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

“I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

“My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire

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narrators-journal · 3 years

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Vampiric lust

This one’s extra ✨ spicy ✨ because I had some fun with the scenario. Also, is this likely gonna become an AU like Cat and Mouse? Likely lol.

CW: Somnophilia, vampires, some of the stuff might come off as super dark?

Vampires weren't known for getting attached to humans often, but it wasn't insane for it to happen. Though, most times said attachments were food related, as in the vampire would keep an eye on or keep a human around to repeatedly feed on them, Stanley Snyder wasn't trailing his chosen favorite for food exactly. No, the tall vampire was so interested in this one particular man for a few reasons, one of the strongest being that he was highly, highly attracted to him. It was true, Stan had his pick of men to sate his sexual needs, but few provided the thrill and challenge that Xeno Wingfield gave him. No, somehow the pale, deceptively-weak-looking, college-grad-turned-monster-hunter had drawn his attention and kept it for a year and a half at this point, a feat no other human he'd favored had managed. Usually, Stan would get bored of whatever human he'd decided to follow around within a month, but Xeno was interesting. He was a monster hunter, so of course he never quite feared the vampire, but more than that, he was openly hostile to him, something not many people had the balls to be. However, he wasn't keen on outright attacking the blonde, so it became a bit of an entertaining game for Stan to harass, flirt, and tease the college graduate until he got so annoyed that he was basically shrieking at him with creative threats. However, such an attachment came with an issue after a while. Not because of food, the vampire made sure to eat properly, but there were a few nights where his last remaining human urge reared its ugly head. On those nights, he mostly had to leave his usual spot in the hunter's yard and attempt to repress that last carnal urge so he didn't lose his mind and ruin his plans for his and Xeno's relationship, but it was a temporary fix to a festering, chronic issue. Tonight was a perfect example of the times he'd usually slink off to his own home and wait out the small, evil voice in his head, but this time he couldn't get away fast enough before things went downhill. Stan had been preparing to leave the hunter's yard as the dark voice in his head began demanding he just take his prey by any means necessary, demanding for him to finally fully sate the icky burn in his loins for intimate companionship, but than Senku decided to talk to him. Which, wasn't uncommon, the leek-haired apprentice-monster-hunter was a great source of intel on his mentor since he and the pale, cranky man didn't exactly get along, but sadly for the blonde's restraint, he was feeling extra spiteful tonight. So, that's how the handsome vampire got permission to enter their shared home. Alright, cool, I can now physically enter his house. Exploring it should definitely wait for a different night. The rational side of his brain told him. Or, I could go in tonight, while Senku's away, and scope the place out and maybe see what Xeno sleeps in. That second voice offered, an offer he ended up taking on an impulse. Usually, Stan had impeccable control of his instincts with only minor slips, but the sight of the hunter he'd been so attracted to so vulnerable before him did things to his predator side. There he laid before him, the man who'd shown the tall, well-built creature of the night no fear in any of their interactions, eyes closed, lips slightly parted to snore or murmur soft nonsense to the dark, quiet room that he'd just found like a piece of cake begging to be swiped from the fridge. All of his fire was gone, his bottomless eyes not glaring up at the blonde, instead his head was turned to expose his throat and seemingly invite Stan to just take a nibble, in either sense of the word. It drove him insane. If his hormones weren't already insanely high, they were sky rocketing at the sight. So, the tall blonde almost couldn't help himself from taking advantage of his night vision to creep to the foot of the bed and slither under the covers so he could not only feel his crush's pale skin, but also see his pajamas. While he'd hoped to see him maybe in his boxers, knowing from the bit of a shirt sleeve he'd seen peeking from under the comforter that he'd not get him sleeping completely nude, he was not expecting to see the small male's legs half open and nothing on but a white button up that was about two sizes too big for him and had ridden up to his stomach, allowing the horny predator to see his genitals easier. The sight near-instantly filled the man's head with lascivious thoughts. Shifting slightly barely helped the beginnings of an erection, but it did put him closer to the hunter's groin, and without thinking, Stan's tongue shot out to lick up Xeno's length, making the sleeping man's member twitch in response to his sampling. Just like that, all of his control was nearly gone and he was moving further onto the bed to take the taunting member carefully into his fanged mouth. Stan nearly groaned audibly at the taste, savoring the thrill having prey so vulnerable and at his mercy sent through him before beginning to slowly move up and down his length. He did his best to be cautious of waking him up, but already his blue eyes were blurring with lust that increased with each soft sigh and moan that slipped past the sleeping hunter's lips above him, his urges only kept at bay because he was already fulfilling one of his smaller fantasies. While he had regained control of his instincts a bit, his thoughts were still just as raunchy and slightly demented as they had been before. Oh you are so lucky that I can't risk leaving evidence. Otherwise I'd rail your cute ass into the fucking mattress, Xeno. It wouldn't even matter if you woke up and caught me, your ass would be MINE. Of course, he refrained from acting on such possessive and screwed up thoughts, helped by the reminder that leaving any evidence of him being here would ruin any chance he had of consensually getting the hunter into bed, which he preferred over bedding him by force. Option one meant he would likely get a second round, option two, while momentarily satisfying, would be a one time thing, which would fade after a while. So, Stan pushed back those amoral thoughts and just continued to bob his head and run his tongue up the college graduate's length or around the tip to draw out noises. Sadly, when the pale man began softly moaning and sighing while Stan bobbed his head gently along his stiffened length, that issue slowly lost all teeth. So, in an attempt to lessen that threatening urge, Stan reached his hand down between his own legs and palmed his own erection as he sucked more mewls and muttered curses from the hunter. And, for a time, it worked to keep his predatory side at bay. However, the added friction forced out some low moans of his own, which made Xeno gasp out a quiet, slurred, "S-Stanley!" that dripped of desperation. That one groan held such a strong plea for the predator to fuck him silly, that it went straight to Stan's dick with so much force that he was insanely close to fulfilling that wish tenfold. Instead, the blonde pulled Xeno's member from his mouth and press his face into the sheets to wait out the onslaught of impatience. His whole body was thrumming with so many possessive, creative thoughts and ignited hormones that the mental image of Xeno begging for a break from Stanley's merciless pounding sent the blonde over the edge into carnal bliss. Afterwards, it took a few moments for Stan to come down from the euphoria high and wrangle that voice in his head ordering him to give the hunter what he obviously wanted in. Alright, time to go, he told himself, taking the moment of clarity to be smart and leave before he did something stupid. However, as he was backing up to get out from under the comforter, he realized that Xeno's dick still stood erect and twitching, begging to be played with until he climaxed, which, admittedly, was a sight Stan very much wanted to see and hear. So, he returned to it, giving the eager thing a firm lick from base to tip before sucking it back into his mouth. He could've simply reached up and used his hand to stroke him, but he very much wanted to taste the pale hunter, so he bobbed his head along his length and listened to Xeno's sighs and mewls while he worked. The blonde hummed around it, relishing the thrill having a human at his mercy, yet not killing or harming them, brought as well as the salty taste of Xeno's precum. The low groans and occasional moans his movements brought out added to the excitement, but since the blonde had orgasmed, he was thankfully a bit more in control of himself, so he refrained from railing the hunter just yet, instead just bobbing his head until Xeno gave another gasp of his name and orgasmed into the vampire’s mouth. Stan grinned, drinking it down and pulling away again to lick the remains from the other man's shaft. With that, and his own orgasm, the blonde laid there for a moment or two, just watching the sleeping man's cock soften once more as he debated whether he could get away with maybe gently fucking the snow-haired man. I really shouldn't. He's very likely to wake up, and I don't have THAT much self-restraint. He told himself, and he knew he was right, his dark side was just waiting for a big enough moment of vulnerability from him to take over and get him into deep, pleasurable, fantasy-fulfilling trouble... Despite really wanting to do nothing more than fuck Xeno's brains out, the vampire forced himself to fully leave the covers and stand up in the dark bedroom. That gave him a chance to see Xeno still laying there, panting slightly, his cheeks a tint pinker. He looked so inviting and adorable, it went right to Stan's dick a second time, but he was able to resist the urge to get back in the bed. Instead, he just turned to leave the home.

#stano #stan x Xeno #vampire!Stan #dr stone #drst #Xeno x Stan #scenario #not sfw #somnophilia #monster au

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 - 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.0k

warnings: swearing, fluff if you squint, deep talk with jean

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Hitch dropped you off at home with a loud "Au revoir!" and sped off in her black car while you waved silently.

You couldn't shake the nervous feeling Hitch had left you with. It was reasonable to feel uneasy after a strange encounter like that, but nevertheless, you plastered on a fake smile when you walked inside and saw Eren sprawled on the couch.

He lifted his head from his phone when he noticed your presence. "Y/n, you're back. What did Hitch want?"

Admittedly, you felt bad about never telling your best friend, but it was too late now.

"Nothing much, she just wanted to catch up. Haven't seen her since college," You lied easily as you plopped down in the chair next to the couch. "What's new with you?"

Eren shrugged and looked at his phone. "Just trying to pass the time. Jean's headed to the airport at eight tonight. Hope you're ready to see your girlfriend." He tilted his head back while laughing.

You smacked his forehead and he recoiled in pain. "Ah! What's your problem?" Eren rubbed his forehead with a hard glare aimed at you.

"I don't have a problem, you're just being freakish."

Eren gawked. "No, I'm not! You're the real freak, being you and whatever."

"Oh, good one." You snorted. "Hey, speaking of, where is Jean, anyways?" You furrowed your eyebrows as you glanced around the house.

"You tell me." Eren repeatedly clicked his tongue while turning his attention back on his phone.

"I'll go find him then," you decided. Eren just grunted in response, too immersed with the JAEGER BOMB fan pages he was scrolling through.

You got up from the comfy chair and starting looking around the house for Jean. After your talk with Hitch, you were feeling even more nervous about Mikasa coming home. You desperately needed to talk to someone, even if it wasn't about Hitch. You just needed a good distraction from tonight.

Jean was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so you trudged upstairs in hopes of finding him. You rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, passing Mikasa's dark room, stopping when you heard a quiet string of curses from the hallway bathroom.

"Jean?" You called out hesitantly. Lightly knocking on the bathroom door, you pressed your ear to the wood in hopes of figuring out what the issue was.

"Come in," came Jean's strained voice from the small room. You peeked your head in the doorframe and took note of his frustrated figure.

"What's going on?"

"Who decided it would be a good idea to grow my hair out?" He made furious hand motions at his head.

You let out a chuckle as he angrily tried to comb his hair back. "You did."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. I think I might have to go back in time and slap myself for that one."

Shrugging, you sat on the counter next to the agitated male and crossed your arms. "Just cut it then."

"It's not as simple as that," he sighed. "I like the way it looks long, Marco likes it too. And the fans, you know. Besides, I can't cut it in a fit of rage. I'll end up like you." He snorted after his snide comment.

"That was one time! Besides, that was high school. We all did stupid things back then." You grimaced at the memory.

"Yeah, you were the stupidest. You chopped off all your hair because of something that aggravated you." He pointed his comb at you in a teasing manner.

"A little thing called feelings were aggravating me. At least I can control myself more now." You pushed the comb back at him and poked his shoulder.

"Speaking of which, I'm surprised you didn't lose your shit when I told you guys Mikasa was coming home." He went back to working on his hair.

"Seriously? I made you all clean the whole house. I could barely get through her room yesterday. Wasn't that enough of a reaction?" Your head fell onto the mirror against your back while you laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, I guess it was. I don't know what I expected honestly. I assume you aren't over her?"

"Definitely not." You sighed. "Because it's been two years since I last had any contact with her, you'd honestly think I would've moved on by now."

Jean set his comb at the side of the counter and faced you. "Did you want to move on?"

You fidgeted and looked away from his hard gaze. "It would be best if I did. I had my chance and I never took it. There was always a part of me that knew she'd come back. I had always hoped that she would, I never got to tell her how I felt, but now that it's actually happening it feels almost unreal." You met Jean's eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

"Are you going to confess when she's back?" he inquired.

Your thoughts circled back to Hitch. Her threats were powerful. She knew what she was doing. Maybe you could confess to Mikasa in secret and she would never know. However, she somehow knew about Mikasa's future arrival, so you should play it safe. Plus, you hadn't seen the Mikasa you knew in two years.

"No, I don't think I will. There's so much to know about her now. She could be a completely different person." You pulled your knees to your chest.

Jean put his hands on your shoulders which made you look back up at him. "Y/n, you've been putting this off far too long. She's proven to us that she's not always going to be here. If there's ever a time to tell her, it would be now."

You stared at each other for a few moments before you pursed your lips and looked away. Jean was right. The perfect chance was right in front of you but just out of your reach. There was always an unspoken obstacle when it came to your feelings for Mikasa. Whether it was another person or yourself blocking the way. "I just need some time to think."

Jean took his hands off your shoulders and shook his head. "You, my friend, are what people call hopeless." He picked up the comb again, about to run it through his hair once more, but sighed and placed it in a drawer. "Fuck it, ponytail it is." You found it funny how often he would end up tying his hair in a low ponytail. His hair was long, but it wasn't close to the length Eren's was. Whenever Jean did his hair like that little tufts would stick out at the top of his neck and loose strands would curl around his ears.

"How long are you growing it?" You asked as you let your legs dangle over the countertop.

"I'll grow it until it becomes seriously unmanageable. It's already getting unruly." Jean softly kicked open the door and gestured to the hallway. "After you."

You hopped off the counter and gladly took his offer, sliding your arm along the balcony railing before folding your arms over the wood and resting your head on them. The hallway was only lit up by the orange light from the sunset beyond the large living room windows above the glass doors.

Jean passed by you swiftly, making cool air hit your neck. He loudly trudged down the wooden stairs and you saw him walk into the living room from your view.

Armin was sitting cross legged in the cushy rocking chair and Eren was still taking up the space of the long couch. Their eyes were trained on an ocean documentary, Armin occasionally commenting on the sea life while Eren nodded at him.

Jean sat on the loveseat under the balcony, now hidden from your view. Armin noticed your content gaze and beckoned for you to join them.

You followed Jean's path to the living room and put your hands on the back of the couch he was sitting on.

"What do you guys want for dinner? It's nearly seven o'clock." You asked the seated boys.

"Can we just get Burger King or something again?" Eren tore his eyes away from the screen to look at you pleadingly.

"Eren, we had that yesterday. I don't want it two nights in a row. That's just gross." Armin frowned at his request.

Jean placed his hands behind his head and on top of your hands. "Eat whatever you like. I have to drive to the airport soon." He patted your hands and stood from the couch.

Once Jean left the room you continued your survey. "We could have spaghetti?" You offered.

"That sounds good. I'll help you." Armin started toward the kitchen with you before tugging on Eren's sleeve. "You come too. You've been sitting on that couch all day, you lazy bum."

Eren groaned like a child being asked to do the dishes. "Fine, if I have to."

The three of you started preparing the meal in the kitchen with Armin getting the noodles out and making the meatballs, you making the sauce, and Eren filling the pot with water then leaving the rest to you and Armin.

Eren sat on a kitchen stool and pulled his phone out. You and Armin both gave him an eye roll before continuing your cooking.

It was around seven-thirty when the food was done. There were a few mishaps along the way since Jean wasn't around to help and neither you or Armin were very skilled in culinary practices. But the final product looked edible and that's all that matters.

Eren and Armin got their servings and sat down on the kitchen island stools while you went to close the curtains in living room and the dining area. You then pulled out a stool next to Armin.

The three of you ate in silence for a while before you spoke up. "Jean should be back soon."

Eren perked his head up. "Really? He said he'd get her at eight. He left an hour ago but we all know he likes to be early so who knows," He said.

"I'd give it maybe twenty minutes. Why? You nervous?" Armin twirled the pasta around their fork.

"Incredibly," you exhaled.

Eren snorted. "As expected from you. But if you're nervous, imagine how Jean feels right now. That should perk you right up." he laughed to himself while imagining Jean waiting for Mikasa, a nervous wreck.

"Are you not nervous?" You asked timidly.

Armin shrugged. "I guess I am. We've known her forever. It'll be just like seeing an old college friend. It'll be refreshing to see her after all this time. I'm more worried about how ready the house is," they explained while folding their arms.

"I'm a little nervous. You think she'll like my hair?" Eren gestured to his bun.

"No, you're ugly." Armin commented. You laughed so hard at Eren's shocked face that you didn't hear the door unlocking behind you.

Armin stopped laughing with you and stared at the door. "Mikasa," He whispered.

"Mikasa?" You questioned and looked back at the door. "Mikasa."

Sure enough, Mikasa was at the door with Jean lurking behind her.

She was wearing a black hoodie and sweatpants with dark green sneakers. Her hair was cut much shorter now. It was slightly fluffed up and messy from the plane ride. She had a few rings decorating her fingers and a small tattoo on her middle finger on her right hand. In that hand, she carried a navy blue suitcase. In the other, gripped the same scarf Eren gave her years before. She held a tired expression but you thought she looked beautiful as ever.

Your eyes widened and you parted your lips to say something but nothing would come out. Instead, you opted for a hug. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your head just peeking over her shoulder, earning a surprised noise from her. Her arms made their way around your frame as she held you close.

"Mikasa," you could only manage to squeak out her name.

posted: 8/27/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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this-is-quite-homoerotic · 3 years

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Yo! What did you think of the Expectant audio? I think it's the only TW audio that I listened to and thought mmm, that could've been so much more :( I get that it needed to have action and adventure but it kinda felt really obvious that the writer wasn't comfortable with Barrowman's dream. I think I expected better after how good so many audios like Broken have been :(

I’ll forgo spoilers in the first part for those who haven’t listened to the audio but might be interested in seeing a review, but there’ll be spoilers under the cut!

Anon, I agree with you! It definitely could have been so much better. I actually like the concept of the audio a lot, but the execution was... not to my taste, let’s say. To be fair, it really is a matter of taste, I personally didn’t like the humour, it did not mesh well with my sensibilities, though I also think it felt... outdated? I’m talking specifically about the sense of humour here.

The kind of jokes they made felt like something I might have found funny in the early 2000s when I didn’t know any better, before I examined some of the tropes/messages/expectations I’d absorbed from society and media (more about this under the cut because spoilers). The thing that bothered me the most about it was that it felt to me like the humour in it had not caught up to 2020 sensibilities, and Expectant is, first and foremost, a comedy piece. So if the humour’s failing then that’s a big problem.

Your mileage may vary, though, humour is a matter of taste after all. Interestingly, I actually think John Barrowman enjoyed the script and had fun getting to act it out? This is just the impression I got (certainly, he might have played it a bit differently if he didn’t), and I think this might be a generational thing as well as a matter of taste and sense of humour.

Spoilers below

As I said, I actually love the general concept of the audio: Jack, grieving and at a loss for what to do in the face of losing half his team, offers to carry an old alien friend’s child for them when political scheming means the unborn child might be in danger, in the hopes of ensuring the child’s safety, political stability for several planets, and (it is implied) as a symbol of hope that there’s good things in the universe too, not just loss and devastation.

There are obvious obstacles to Jack carrying a pregnancy while still being an active Torchwood agent, which is an interesting and fun thing that’s explored from the first scene: Jack has got used to being immortal and doing his job might well get him killed. Normally this isn’t a problem but if he dies while pregnant the baby can die too. But Torchwood is understaffed and still adapting to being a three-person team, so Jack has agreed to carrying the baby only if he can keep on working.

An interesting premise, vaguely tied in with a big moment from the show and the emotional fallout which wasn’t explored much in the show itself (Tosh and Owen’s deaths and how they affected Jack), some stakes from the get-go, plus a new original alien character (Jonty). So far, so good.

There are two main things that got in the way of me enjoying the audio: 1) how Jack was depicted as being hysterical during the pregnancy (and this being played for laughs), and 2) the indirect fatshaming (literally why, this was so unnecessary).

In the first case, they decided to write Jack as so emotionally unbalanced by the hormonal changes of the pregnancy that he had severe mood swings, with him breaking down crying supposedly triggered by insignificant things (like when he cries over a cupcake? Or something similar, I can’t be bothered to check). Jack having a meltdown would not be a bad thing to explore in an audio, except it felt to me as though they were using it as a joke? Like a “ha ha look how messed up he is by being pregnant, he’s so hormonal and out of control, isn’t that hilarious? Isn’t it so funny that this character is breaking down like a hormonal woman? Isn’t his pain just the funniest thing you’ve heard? :))))” (Sidenote but I also felt like John Barrowman overacted in these scenes, it didn’t sound like he was crying, it sounded like he was play-acting crying, and that didn’t help.)

The second thing was the whole fat camp-style spa subplot. While trying to get Jack to safety, Jonty takes Jack, who is heavily pregnant and showing, to a ““health spa”“ (read: weight-loss place) where Jack is put under a strict unhealthily-restrictive diet (especially given that he’s pregnant??), controlled by the overbearing spa lady (she literally takes food off his hands and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t “”overeat””), repeatedly fat-shamed, and this is all presented as a funny gag, presumably because he’s not really fat, he’s just pregnant! But people don’t know because he’s male/male-presenting, so all the micro-aggressions and abuse he’s subjected to are funny, right? Jack not being allowed to eat despite being hungry and heavily-pregnant is totally something to laugh at, surely (/s).

Disclaimer: this is not actually portrayed as though the fat-shaming is righteous and just behaviour, it’s sort of implied that the “”health-nuts”“ running the place were obsessive and weird, but that doesn’t change the fact that the whole subplot could have been something else entirely? Like, they obviously thought this was funny. Also, I won’t get into specifics but I am personally sensitive to these issues, so I can definitely see how some people might not be turned off by this at all; as I said, your mileage may vary and this is my own take on it.

So, these are my main issues with the audio. I don’t think the writer was uncomfortable with the concept as you say, Anon; I’d actually argue the opposite. It’s just that their take on it and their sense of humour were maybe not very in-tune with modern sensibilities (or with mine, at least) and the story suffered for it.

They took a look at the idea (a male/male-presenting character being pregnant) and came up with the worst tired comedy tropes for it: mood swings (and the resulting distress) played up for laughs, an emphasis on how big the character got being made fun of/criticised with an incomprehensible fatshaming subplot, they even threw in a reference that Jack’s previous pregnancy (mentioned in his first line in ep 1 of Torchwood) was a student prank (because men being pregnant is funny, I guess). Okay, that last one is a bit unfair, I just didn’t like it. They could have made Jack’s first pregnancy something meaningful (him carrying a friend’s child as a surrogate out of love for that friend, him carrying his own child born out of a relationship, etc.) but instead they made it into a cheap one-liner joke, and yeah it does fit into the tone of the audio, but that’s the problem: I did not like the overall tone of it.

There were some scenes with Ianto that were nice, and a couple of Owen and Tosh mentions that I enjoyed, and it’s interesting that you mention the action and adventure in your ask because I actually didn’t mind those aspects at all? The action was fine with me, it was the non-action parts mostly that bothered me (the emotional tone and sense of humour like I said).

This is probably more thoughts that you wanted but I was quite disappointed with this one (and I was so looking forward to canon mpreg), so I thought I’d take the opportunity to explain why. I do acknowledge that it was a matter of my own sense of humour and sensibilities not meshing well with the writer’s (I just checked and to my shock the writer is a woman; I would have put money on them being a cis man).

This one missed the mark with me. Badly.

#Torchwood #Expectant (Torchwood)#Big Finish releases #meta #asks #my ramblings

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bertrare · 2 years

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9, 10, and 13 for the chaos siblings!!!!! lets gooooo!!

Hell yeah chaos siblings!! also sorry this took me so long I’ve been in Dishonored hyperfixation hell!!!

9. How easily does your oc make friends? Do they have difficulty talking to new people? Why?

Ireena tends to be fairly approachable and willing to approach people, but not so willing to completely trust anyone she’s just met after everything that went down in Barovia - this would usually be the main barrier between her and making a new friend. Poor girl has seen pretty much the worst humanity has to offer. So she’s good at surface-level casual banter with new people, but it is a bit hard for her to develop trust and therefore a deeper relationship with folks. Basically, she’s good at making casual acquaintances, but has some trouble with actual friends. The fact that she trusts the party members from the CoS campaign to the extent she does is a result of her seeing them repeatedly put themselves in danger to protect her. Beyond the Trust Issues (tm), there is also the potential for her to come off a bit, uhh, frighteningly intense if a conversation turns to any kind of subject she feels strongly about. (God help you if you’ve just met Ireena and bring up any kind of political topic.)

Ismarck is a bit like an excitable little puppy. He REALLY enjoys talking to people and is pretty quick to trust, but the topic of conversation will inevitably and very rapidly turn to the weirdest shit. He says whatever pops into his brain and in his brain is usually thoughts about animals. But he doesn’t know very much about animals! Especially ones that didn’t live in/were rare in Barovia so he just... make shit up. This can be either a blessing or a curse for making new friends, depending on the person.

10. How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

For Ireena, it honestly varies quite a bit depending on what the thing is. She literally chose to live her life as an adventurer after escaping Barovia, so she’s very eager to see new places and experience all the things associated with them. New foods she’s especially excited about - Ireena will try basically any food you offer to her at least once, no matter how Nasty it looks or smells. (As long as it’s not like. literally rancid lmao.) Other new things she’d be quite excited about are weapons from different cultures, and also like... different sorts of textile fibres and dyes. (I imagine Barovia having fairly limited selection in that regard, and Ireena would be so fucking excited to discover like. bamboo-based cloth, for example.) But there are definitely instances where Ireena strongly prefers to stay within her comfort zone! It’s more or less associated with the level of danger, tbh. She’s adventurous, but not reckless. (For example, if you tried very hard you could maybe talk Ireena into going bungee jumping or something, but she would never seek out and perform the activity without outside prompting.) Again, a lot of this comes back to Ireena’s core nature being one of self-preservation. She likes new things, but not if they can endanger her. Ismarck is the more... adventurous, of the siblings, in that he has a tendency to be completely reckless and is endlessly curious about everything. He’s a menace. Most things aren’t going to be outside of his comfort zone to begin with, until he’s tried them and decided he doesn’t like them. (At which point, he’s going to develop a comically strong grudge against whatever it was he tried that he didn’t like, because of course he is!)

13. How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

Both of the siblings know their way around a weapon and could probably kick your ass! That said, Ireena has more of a reputation for being the one who will kick your ass, because she’s got a temper! And that temper would inevitably give her a Reputation in any city she stays in for long enough. (She wouldn’t be known for Seriously Harming folks, but she would be known as somebody who will punch you in the face if you piss her off.) Ismarck probably gets a bit of a Reputation, but for different reasons. (Escher wound up being a PC in our campaign, and I’ve joked with Escher’s player about people thinking Ismarck is a vampire instead of Escher.) So people probably wind up thinking he’s more dangerous than he actually is? That being said he is very much helping Escher get blood! So, not dangerous if you’re an average person. Dangerous if you’re like. a bandit or some shit.

#rileys ocs #character asks

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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hello! first of all I absolutely love your work, thank you so much for all this geraskier content! so it's not really a prompt, but one of the tropes I'm obsessed with is definitely the first kiss. would you write some more of this? maybe in a modern au? (or not!! whatever inspires you) anyway, thank you again for your writing and have a good day :))

First kiss in a modern AU, you say? It’s almost like you reached into my heart and pulled out one of my weaknesses. Plus, I could never say no to such a sweet request. I hope you’ve having a good day, Nonnie!

When Jaskier signed the lease on his apartment, he was a little dubious but money was tight and something about the Kaer Morhen block of flats was appealing. The landlord lived on site, there was a promise of round the clock help for emergencies and issues with the flat. Sure, it was old and looked a bit shoddy but the flat itself was sturdy and the residents all seemed quiet judging by the couple of times Jaskier went to view the place before deciding to sign a year long contract.

Moving in was quite a mundane affair. He had Priscilla and Valdo helping move his boxes but Jaskier was moving from one furnished flat to another so other than boxes of books, trinkets, clothes and kitchen stuff, there wasn’t much else. Still, it would have been an ego boost to have a musclebound man or two gallantly offering to help. Or even for a new neighbour to stick a head out and greet him. Alas, Jaskier was going to have to live without either of those things happening.

What he did end up having was a knock on his door in the evening when he was staring at his boxes, willing them to magically unpack themselves while he drank his wine. He couldn’t fathom who it was, maybe Valdo had left his phone somewhere yet again. Idiot always had it on silent and kept putting it down in places. Last time, they’d found it in Priscilla’s bathtub. Opening the door, Jaskier blinked at the weathered, older man before him.

“Mr. Pankratz. I trust moving went smoothly. I’m Vesemir, your landlord and wanted to say hello. I trust the flat is to your satisfaction and moving went smoothly. Any issues, I’m on the second floor, feel free to knock.”

A personal call by one’s landlord while sweaty and dirty from a move and pleasantly buzzed from the wine that was clutched in one hand was not Jaskier’s idea of an ideal occurrence but he nodded gratefully. The flat was indeed to his satisfaction. It wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t the absolute shithole he’d fears things would turn out to be.

Of course things don’t go as stunningly well as Jaskier had hoped. Because while the flat was better than most, it was still cheap. Which meant that the washing machine broke down a few weeks into his life in his new home.

Knocking on the door on the second floor, Jaskier felt a little sheepish but Vesemir opened up with a gruff “yes?” that helped words come easier.

“My washing machine is giving me trouble, any chance you could have someone look at it please?”

“I’ll send Lambert this evening.” That was that. Jaskier nodded and returned back home, wondering whether Lambert was the handyman or someone Vesemir trusted.

It turned out, Lambert was one of the most terrifying people Jaskier had ever met. He was spiky and sharp, almost every sentence was punctuated by swearing. It only got worse when Jaskier showed him to the washing machine and left. Initially, it was just grunts and muttered curses but they progressively got louder and more inventive.

“Get to work you bucket of rust and bolts! Or I’m drop kicking your sorry corpse to the nearest tip!” The screaming was followed by loud banging, as if the machine was being punched repeatedly. After a minute of sudden silence, Lambert appeared. “It’s working,” he said and let himself out of the flat.

Almost hesitant to go into the bathroom, Jaskier was stunned to find that the washing machine was merrily chugging away as if it hadn’t been making a death rattle earlier that day. The fist shaped hole in the plaster behind the door was a whole different matter. It was going to be an awkward conversation to have in the morning with Vesemir and Jaskier dreaded to explain that his washing machine worked like a dream but now he had a hole in his wall. How he was going to get the old man to believe it wasn’t Jaskier’s doing was beyond him.

All worries were swept away when, first thing in the morning there was a knock on Jaskier’s door. He was suspicious, especially when he came face to face with a burly, scarred man who looked like he ripped the heads off dolls for living.

“Lambert mentioned you’ll need a bit of plastering. I’m Eskel.”

Too stunned to do anything other than step aside and let man in, Jaskier watched him walk into the bathroom. Half an hour later he was given an almost cheerful wave and the promise of coming back to paint it in a couple of days.

As promised, Eskel was back three days later. Jaskier felt a little braver and trailed after him. Strangely, Eskel seemed shy, he always twisted and turned so the scarred side of his face was hidden from Jaskier. Somehow, it seemed like a habit rather than a conscious decision and it made Jaskier wonder just what had happened to land Eskel with such habits, not to mention such scars. Then again, Lambert had scars as well. Maybe Vesemir had some kind of weird scar fetish he indulged with the handymen he employed.

It didn’t take long to paint the patch and Jaskier was impressed at how well it blended into the surrounding paint. He watched Eskel duck his head shyly at being praised. That was something to file away for later.

The later came a lot sooner than expected because not a month later, Jaskier’s tap gave up the ghost. First on the scene was, as before, Lambert. He looked at the tap like it was offending him on a personal level and Jaskier decided to leave him to it. A wise decision, especially when the clanging of a tap and sink having the ever loving shit beaten out of them started up.

“I could smack my cock and get more of a dribble from it than you piece of shit!” Lambert raged.

It sounded like Jaskier’s whole kitchen was going to be collateral. Quietly, he just hoped the neighbours don’t think ill of him, surely they all knew Lambert’s unique style of DIY. There was a soft knock on the door and Jaskier was surprised to find a tired looking Eskel offering a soft apology.

“I’ll send Geralt up in a minute. He’s better at plumbing. Let me just get my little spark out of your hair.”

Silently, Jaskier stood aside and gestured for Eskel to make himself at home. He got to watch as there was zero hesitation in Eskel as he stepped into the kitchen with a soft “hey Sparky”. For a few minutes there were only soft murmurs from the kitchen. When the door finally opened again, Jaskier tried not to stare at the linked hands or worry about the fact Lambert seemed to be wearing the hoodie Eskel had arrived in.

A quick peek into the kitchen and it looked surprisingly intact. Deciding to leave it and opt for a delivery for food, Jaskier closed the door. Not half an hour later there was a firm knock on his door. Opening it, a few things flitted through Jaskier’s mind. One, Vesemir definitely had a thing for facial scars. Two, Jaskier had found his muse. Three, he believed firmly in lust at first sight.

“I’m here about your tap. Eskel said Lambert didn’t have much luck with it.”

This must have been Geralt. Jaskier trailed after him into the kitchen and ended up hopping onto the counter to watch him work. Not the most verbose of men but Jaskier found that beauty didn’t come from words.

“I couldn’t quite gather what’s wrong with the tap,” he began, trying to make small talk. “Lambert didn’t say much. Well, he said a lot but nothing of value.”

“That’s Lambert for you,” Geralt rumbled as he shimmied under the sink to look at a pipe. “He usually does electrics and machines, Eskel general decorating and odd jobs while I’m more for plumbing.”

Which was good to know because Jaskier wanted to see Geralt again. It took a couple of hours before water flowed from the tap again but Jaskier was happy to wait. It meant more time watching Geralt get sweaty in small, tight spaces.

From then on, Jaskier had a lot of plumbing issues. As many as he could make up and engineer. Nothing to actually damage the piped but enough to warrant calling Geralt out for them. It also meant he learned a lot about his landlord and the family who owned Kaer Morhen. They were an adoptive family and nothing to do with blood. Ex-army, all served together which explained the scars. While the three younger men called each other brothers, it didn’t stop Lambert and Eskel sharing a flat. It seemed to be a running joke that they all called it saving money and generating more income by freeing up another flat to rent out. However, Jaskier had seen just once how freely affectionate the two were with each other and there was no doubt that the jokes were an old habit while everybody and the world knew just how much those two were very much in love.

Despite all his attempts to draw Geralt out and spend more time with him with artificial problems, Jaskier still found his bathtub was clogging against his will. It was becoming impossible and he had to call Geralt out once more. This time, for a serious matter.

After half an hour of Geralt humming flatly at the issue, he straightened up and looked at Jaskier.

“You need to stop jerking off so much in the bathtub. Your jizz is clogging the pipes. Just use tissue, condoms or even a sock from now on.”

Flushing bright red, Jaskier gawped. “I have never! I mean-” Geralt gave him a half amused look. “Fine. But if you’re so worried about where my come lands, maybe you’d be a willing receptacle for it instead.”

He’d said it out of annoyance rather than anything else but it was too late to take it back. Especially when Geralt kept staring at him.

“I would prefer a dinner date first,” Geralt drawled and stepped closer. They were almost nose to nose.

“Tonight. What time do you finish work?” Jaskier was demanding but he had also had enough of pining from afar. Now was a moment for action rather than dillydallying.

“I have just one job for today. Very annoying resident who keeps calling out for problems he’s obviously created. Once I’ve finished with his bath’s plumbing, I’m off the clock.”

Grinning, Jaskier leaned in. “Well, make it a rush job and don’t be late. I have got my hopes up.”

There was no telling who leaned in first but it didn’t matter. The most important thing was that Jaskier was finally kissing Geralt.

#geraskier #minor eskel/lambert #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #modern au #witcher wolf pack #tldr: jaskier rents a new place and vesemir (plus his sons) are the landlords/handymen

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