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ohwowimlonley · 9 months

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The Monster’s Gone (He’s on the Run) - Spencer Reid

Summary - a night in with your boyfriend of four months leads to some disturbing secrets being spilled

Word Count - 3862

Warnings - angst angst angst, kind of graphic depictions of trauma, past non-con, supportive spencer, so much crying, making out, the beginning of smut, nudity, self-sabotage, blowjobs (kinda)

A small note - the backstory for this is based on my own personal experience so pls be kind when commenting/reblogging

Your boyfriend is perceptive by nature, not by training. He knows what he does not because he spent years studying (though it did help), but because it is impossible for him to walk into a room without noticing everything, and drawing to his own conclusions. Some might call this tedious, or difficult to live with, but this is your Spencer, and there isn’t anything you find tedious about him.

It is because of his perceptive nature that you’re forced to tell him the truth about yourself.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, just past four o’clock, but you’re already curled up in bed with Spencer because he’s just come home after a week away on a case and neither of you have a clue when he’ll be called away again. One of his old French movies is droning on in the corner of the room, but you’re not looking at it. You’re looking at your Spencer; at his barely stubbly jaw, his hair that's just beginning to curl at the ends, the way his lips move in sync with the words the actors speak on the screen.

“Did you know that in the original script-” you cut off his attempt at speaking by landing a rather forceful kiss on his chapped lips as he drew a deep breath in. It takes him by surprise, but it isn’t more than a few seconds before both of his hands are coming up to cup at your jaw and his tongue is pushing against your lips. You graciously let him in, manoeuvring one of your hands to tangle through your boyfriend’s unbrushed locks, pulling ever so gently and coaxing a whine out of his mouth.

The two of you remain like that for a few blissful minutes, breathing in each other’s air and tasting each other’s tongues. Eventually, you give in to your body’s desires and begin rolling your hips against his. Spencer stifles a gasp against your exposed neck and moves one of his hands down to grip at your waist, not harsh enough to bruise but enough to know that he’s there through the haze of your mind.

Again, these small ministrations carry on for the next few minutes, just the two of you in your own little bubble, safe from everything else in the world.

Eventually, Spencer grows more frantic, and so do you, chasing the friction his plaid pyjama bottoms give you, rubbing up against your cotton shorts and pressing against you just right. Your lips detach from one another, and you’re left panting into one another’s open mouths, grinning madly. What changes the whole ordeal for you is when Spencer begins pushing you by the shoulders, just gently, but you still find yourself sliding down, down the mattress until you’re surrounded by the long kicked away duvet between his knees and you’re face to face with a very obvious bulge. In the heat of the moment, Spencer must mistake your wide eyes for surprise at his size (which, in all honesty, is fairly impressive) and your quickened breathing in response to the intense make out from not seconds before. But neither of those things are true. You’re trapped in a whole other world.

“Down,” it’s gruff, and the hand shoving at your shoulder feels almost identical to Spencer’s. This time, however, you voice your concerns as soon as they arise.

“Gentle,” you remind him. It doesn’t work.

“Oh calm down, it’s not that bad,” and then he’s quiet, just the sound of his fly unzipping and then a choked gasp coming from your lips as he shoves his cock between them.

“Honey?” Spencer clocks onto something this time, but you’re already pushing it from the forefront of your mind. It’s not that bad, you remind yourself. You just shake your head with what you hope looks like a genuine smile, and busy your fingers by working on pulling his trousers down. Maybe, maybe if you do it this once, with Spencer, then it will all get better. You can trust your spencer.

And again, it’s okay for the first few minutes. You go through the motions, not entirely present but not completely gone. You find yourself wishing you could stop, but in that very same moment, Spencer is gripping at your hair and tugging you further down onto himself and all of a sudden, you’re right back there.

You try to pull back, desperate to relieve the sudden pressure against the back of your throat, but his hands keep you in place. In a bid to get his attention, you cover one of his hands with yours, but he doesn’t budge, not even when you dig your nails in. He just chases his high faster and faster, bucking up into the back of your throat. Maybe he just didn’t hear you, or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself to stay sane. But there’s no way he didn’t notice the tears dripping from your cheeks onto his body.

You’re pulled back to the present by a particularly harsh pull on your hair and a brushing of his tip against the back of your throat that has you gagging harshly and pulling away with as much strength as you can muster. Tears, the same tears as that night, fall in rivulets down your cheeks, welling your neck and falling all the way down to the hair at the base of your neck and the dips of your collar bones.

Distantly, you can hear Spencer calling your name, but you’ve gone numb. Everything is numb. Your ears are buzzing. Your fingers feel like strange entities attached to you. A pair of soft hands wrap around your wrists, and it’s only now that you realise you’ve been tugging on the roots of your hair. You squeeze your eyes closed as tight as you can, saving yourself from the disappointed gaze you just know Spencer is casting in your direction. Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything.

“Honey?” Fuck. You keep your eyes closed, praying that he might just leave you alone. No such luck, “honey, I think you’re having a panic attack, is there any way that I can help you?”

Help you? You expect him to shout at you, maybe storm off into the next room as a punishment for ruining his orgasm, not to be so gentle. You take in a deep shuddering breath and blink your eyes open cautiously, immediately averting your eyeline from your boyfriend’s, shrinking away from his grip on your wrists, and he lets you do so without complaint.

“Okay, no touching,” out of the corner of your eye, you can see him nodding to himself, pulling himself further from you, but not so far that you can’t reach for him if you want to. He lets you breathe for a moment, reminding you gently every time it’s needed to stop pulling at your hair with a quiet but reassuring quip of ‘hands, sweetheart’.

“Clean,” you need to feel clean again. You don’t realise you’d said it out loud until Spencer stands up and offers a hand to you. It lingers in the air between you, and it’s clear he isn’t forcing you to take it. Still, you just avert your eyes again, tears falling faster than a waterfall and your ribs begin aching with the effort to keep breathing.

“That’s okay, honey,” he drops his arm without complaint, but you still flinch at the sound of his arm slapping back against his chest, “do you think you can follow me to the bathroom?”

You nod, and keep nodding even as you stand up because the repetitive motion is comforting even if it’s making your head throb and your vision unusable. You follow Spencer's feet as you trudge to the bathroom, only just registering the fact he’s gone soft again and is hidden back away in his pyjamas.

He pulls on the string to click the bathroom, and suddenly you’re both bathed in fluorescent yellow light, and you’re pinching back a wince at the sudden brightness. Spencer seats himself on the side of the bath, looking up at you without expecting you to look back.

“Do you want me to turn the shower on, or would you like to use the sink?” He points to each of them, speaking slowly so you can understand through your heaving breaths. You raise a shaking, tentative hand and point in the direction of the shower, to which Spencer beams with pride, “well done, honey. Do you want me to make it how you like it?”

You think for a moment, before shaking your head with closed eyes, “cold,”

“Cold? You’re cold, sweetheart?” A gentle sob lets him know that he isn’t correct, “you want the shower cold?”

You neither nod nor shake your head, but your crying decreases in volume just enough so that Spencer knows he’s correct. You take the next few minutes to try your hardest to bring your breathing back to normal, inhaling the pleasant scent of one of your shower melts dissolving as your boyfriend fiddled about with the temperature.

“Okay, honey, this is all ready for you. Do you need my help in there or would you like to be alone,” you indicate the latter, and he nods, “that’s okay, I’ll be just outside that door if you need me, do you want me to help you get undressed before I go?”

You contemplate your shaking hands. Would they be strong enough to pull the suddenly very heavy fabric of his hoodie over your head? Before you work yourself up too much, you give him a shaky, somewhat aggressive nod and hold your arms up in the air. It takes him a few minutes to completely undress you, pausing after removing each article to ensure you’re okay. When you’re eventually nude in front of him, his gaze doesn’t drop from your eyes. Logically, you should know that he’s doing it to ensure you feel safe in his presence, but all your panic-warped brain can comprehend is that you can’t suck your boyfriend’s dick without crying and now he won’t even look at you naked.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” His soft, somewhat unsure voice brings you back to semi-lucidity. You’re not quite able to choke back the chest bursting sub that rips from your throat at the thought of him leaving you. You squeeze your eyes shut and clamp a hand over your mouth in the hopes of quelling your embarrassment even by just the smallest bit.

Your knees buckle under the weight of your anxiety and you have to grip onto the porcelain of the bathtub next to Spencer’s thigh to keep from falling over.

It’s clear to you he doesn’t know what to do; his hands splaying across the lip of the bathtub, as if he’s about to stand, but he doesn’t, and his mouth gapes as if he’s about to whisper reassurances in your ear, but his voice fails him. He’s stuck, waiting for you to give him the smallest indication of what to do, what to say.

His prayers are answered seconds later with a bruising grip on his bicep, your eyes wide and shining with tears as you finally, finally make eye contact with him, and Spencer can physically feel his heart shatter with your next words.

“P- please don’t leave me, I can- I can do it better I promise, just let me try it again, I won’t- won’t mess up this time, just don’t leave me,” you wail up at him desperately, forcing your way down onto your knees and taking advantage of Spencer’s momentary shock to push his pyjama pants down to his knees and grasp at his now soft cock, “please, I can do it,”

“Oh,” he doesn’t quite manage to blink away his tears this time, and a droplet of his sadness lands on your cheek. You look up at him, and he crouches down to your level tucking himself away again despite your protests. His knees hit the floor just in front of yours and he reaches up gently to cup your chin in his hands, “honey I want you to listen to me, really listen to me, okay?”

You hiccup your way through a nod.

“You don’t- you don’t ever, ever have to do that again, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, nodding along to his own words, “whoever made you think that way was wrong, and I will tell you everyday for the rest of my life if I have to. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? You’re safe with me, and you can always tell me no,”

“But- but what if-“ you choke down a sob, but Spencer brushes a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, shushing you ever so gently.

“No, baby, no what ifs,” he says it with a finality that has you biting down on your bottom lip and jerking your head up and down, but your boyfriend must tell from your face that you’re not totally absorbing the words coming out of his mouth, “okay sweetness, let’s talk about this later, you wanna get in the shower now?”

“Hmph,” is your only reply, and you’re glad Spencer’s so good at reading your face because he helps you stand up and hook your legs over the lip of the bath.

“Okay, I’ll wait right out here and you can take a minute to yourself,” he seats himself on the closed lid of the toilet, and keeps his eyes a polite distance away from your body as you step under the cold spray of the shower.

The shock of the cold spray forces you to draw in a deep breath, not quite stopping your hyperventilation but drawing it out enough so that your head stops spinning. You try not to think about it before sticking your head underneath the waterfall of ice cold water.

You close your eyes and press the heel of your hand to your sternum, hearing your heart rate gradually slow its pulsating in your ears. You’re face-first in the spray, but you make no effort to angle your head upwards, allowing the hair at the crown of your head drip frigid droplets of water down your nose and onto your chin.

Over the roar of the rushing water, you are only just able to hear the soft sounds of Spencer sniffling. You can’t bring yourself to look over, knowing that he’s crying over you, all because you can’t buck up and be a good girlfriend.

The next few minutes pass in relative silence, with you trying to ignore the concealed sounds of Spencer crying for the sake of your own sanity and him keeping a dillengent eye on you as you scrub your entire body clean of any evidence from the night's activities. When the time finally comes to turn off the water and step out, you find yourself keeping eye contact with your feet.

Before you’re even able to think of getting the towel off the hook next to you, it’s already been wrapped around you and you’re being lifted from the tub by Spencer. Wordlessly, he guides you back into his bedroom, hands hovering awkwardly around your waist, still unsure as to if you’d react badly to him touching you. He gets you sat down and sets about finding you some clothes. He holds up a pair of boxers to himself, then shakes his head and snatches up a set of grey sweatpants and one of his silly little casual shirts with a slogan akin to one you’d see in a Spiderman movie.

“Arms up for me, sweetness,” he gives the lightest tap to your elbow, prompting you to hold your arms aloft so he can cover you up, then allow your arms to drop down, dead from their lack of blood, “that’s it, can you budge your hips for me?”

You try your absolute hardest to lift your bum from the fitted sheet, but you only have so much strength left, and it’s only half a second before you slump back down again, but in that time he had managed to wrench the fabric properly onto you. You let out another sob; Spencer had to do everything for you. When would he realise that it isn’t worth his time?

“There we go,” he smiles, but his eyes are rimmed with fire, so you simply can't remove the trembling frown ingrained on your face. Spencer looks up at you, and his own frown takes over, “do you wanna tell me about it?”

You take a sharp breath in, and Spencer backtracks quickly, “y-you don’t have to, why don’t you go to sleep? I’ll go on the couch tonight, if you want. Whatever you want, I-I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,”

“Will you lay with me?” You slump down on his bed as you say it, paying no mind to the fact that you’re on his side of the bed. You’ve gone numb. No longer are you sobbing or choking on tears. Still, though, hot streams of liquid sadness stream down your cheeks as you rest your face on your boyfriend’s memory foam pillow.

Spencer shuffles across the room, swiping at his face to clear it of its fog as you kick at the duvet until you’re able to wriggle under. He joins you, and a dull throb of sadness aches in your heart when you realise he’s nervous to get into his own bed. He’s facing you, but not touching you, letting you keep as much distance as you want but not expressly requesting it.

“Are we going to sleep, or are we just going to calm down?” It’s a fair question, in all honesty; he’s been on a case the last few days so he’s had even less sleep than usual, he fears that if he allows himself to relax too much, he’ll fall asleep while you’re working up the courage to speak. He’s never had an issue with waiting for you to gather your words; he loves being a person you feel safe enough to really speak your mind to.

You don’t answer verbally yet again, just reach a hand back and open your palm towards Spencer as an invitation for him to hold it. He does, and waits patiently. Minutes pass, then maybe half an hour, all the while Spencer is smoothing his thumb across the back of your hand, never attempting to do anything more.

Another ten or so minutes pass before you turn in his direction and slip into his arms, silently, slowly. He allows you to settle in before wrapping his arms around you, loosely so as not to restrict you. Still, he doesn’t push you into talking.

“It wasn’t,” your throat is hoarse, and you have to clear it before continuing, “it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I wasn’t, like, raped,”

Just the word has Spencer gripping you tighter, but still he just lets you speak.

“I mean- I could’ve said no, and, and it was just my mouth, so it’s not that bad,” you reason, “like, he was my boyfriend, and he was nice to me, so it was kinda my job to do it. I just, I think maybe I didn’t like it when he was rough with me, maybe that’s why I freaked out. I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time,”

He waits for a moment, to be sure you’re finished talking before he responds, “oh, honey,”

It isn’t condescending, the way he speaks to you; it’s as if it physically hurts him to hear your perspective. His voice is thick with something a more talented profiler than you would call grief. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he continues, “I can go the rest of my life without ever needing you to do that for me,”

You eye him sceptically, but he continues without acknowledging it, “as far as I’m concerned, we never have to have sex. Not ever. Not if it makes you think of that, not if you think it’s something you should do,”

“But Spence-“

“No, no buts,” he asserts, followed by an apologetic, “sorry for interrupting, sweetheart, but I just don’t want to ever put you in that position again. That was scary,”

“I’m sorry Spence,” you can’t look at him directly in the eye, so you squeeze his bicep to let him know you’re being genuine, “I thought I would be okay, cos I was with you ‘n all, but then all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe and- and,”

You’re starting to get worked up again, so Spencer strokes between your shoulder blades, tracing along your spine as you recuperate.

“It’s not- I’m not afraid of you, Spencer, I don’t actually think you’d hurt me, I just couldn’t get that to stick in my stupid brain,” you bury your nose in his armpit, curling your arms around him and sighing as you finish speaking.

“Your brain isn’t being stupid,” he points out, in such a very Spencer way that you simply can’t stop yourself from smiling, “your brain is trying to protect you from suffering another traumatic event. Your brain just can’t tell the difference between someone you trust and someone you don’t, so it has the same base reaction and floods your system with adrenaline and cortisol, forcing you into a panic attack,”

You don’t really have the energy to respond to him any more, your panic attack combined with your boyfriend's soft-toned explanation has you yawning into his bare skin and moulding your body into his.

Spencer, noticing this, smiles to himself and presses a kiss to your head, “go to sleep, honey. We can talk more in the morning, if you want,”

You press your lips lazily to whatever patch of Spencer’s skin is closest to you and resign yourself to sleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady rhythm of your boyfriend's heart, and the never ending stroke of his three middle fingers between your shoulder blades.

Cm taglist - @mellozhi @aar-0n @spencereidapologist @halamet-chalamet @lubunnii

#•megs smutty daydreams•#•megs pretty daydreams•#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x y/n #tw sa

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soullessdianthus · 1 year

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Hi so idk if ur taking requests for König or if u do stories like this but I was wondering if u could do König comforting reader after a miscarriage. Like this is her 2nd one and she's in the bathroom sobbing

A/N: Never thought I would be able of writing such stuff. Thanks Anon for challenging me with such heavy topics. Hope you're doing well. ♡

Warnings: angst, comfort, talks of miscarriage

When he walked down the hallway, next to the bathroom doors, König would never in his lifetime imagine finding you in a state like this.

Head buried in trembling hands as you were sitting on the bathtub's edge. A few trickles of blood running down your thighs from underneath the sweat shorts. His heart ached although not knowing why yet. Seeing you, his beloved wife in a state of despair was worse than a grown up man could ever imagine.

Deep down he knew it wasn't about you bleeding through your pants on your period. No, it couldn't be it.

━ Meine Liebe [ger.: My love]?

━ König ━ you shot your head up, sniffling and looking at the towering figure of your spouse in the door's frame. A muffled sob got stuck in your throat. He wasn't wearing his hood or military gear, there was no need for that in your house. ━ You were supposed to be back next week.

Your sweet and loving voice sounded broken. Devastated. You tried to wipe the tears off your face, but it was already reddened and eyelids swollen from crying. You couldn't hide it from him anymore.

König slowly walked up to you and kneeled on one of his legs. When his face was approximately on the same level as yours, he cupped your cheek, a concern painted in his eyes.

━ What happened? Why are you crying? ━ Your husband's other hand held you by your arm, caressing the skin so softly, with such tenderness it brought you comfort.

━ I... I lost the baby. It was still very early, but...

━ Hey, hey, look at me, schatzi ━ he interrupted you, sadness building up again in your beautiful eyes. The eyes that made him fall in love with you at first sight ━ sometimes it happens.

König's words were well-balanced and spoken peacefully. He wanted to ease down your pain, at least the one that was mental. Now, he was by your side, prepared to support you through this difficult time.

And you were worried of disappointing him.

━ But it wasn't the first time! I had lost one already and you always wanted a family of your own and I'm scared that I cannot give you this...

━ Sometimes it happens ━ he repeated, his brows slightly narrowing in concern. König reached to hold both of your hands in his grasp over your lap ━ and it's never your fault. Never. You know, Meine Liebe, I'm not the youngest, this may also be a reason why this happens. Have you thought about this?

━ But I really want to start family with you. I love you.

━ Ich liebe dich auch, engel [ger.: I love you too, angel]. We can always try again. When you're ready. ━ König leaned forward to get closer to you pretty face. He always felt bad when you were crying, your soul was so pure, you didn't deserve this. Any of this.

━ But what if it happens again?

━ Then you is all I need in this lifetime.

Your husband pressed his forehead to yours and you slowly began to accept the grief of your unborn child. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. And with him by your side, every sorrow was eased by his love.

━ Are you mad at me? ━ You asked after a while of silence, when he detached his forehead from yours.

━ Why should I be angry with you? How could I be mad at my beloved wife, Mein Sonnenschein [ger.: my sunshine], hm?

His warm smile and presence was all your aching heart needed. König loved you more than anything on this planet, in this life. You were the reason he had something to come back to after each day in work. A home and a soulmate.

━ Ich liebe dich.

#request #reader insert #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #könig #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig x reader #angst #comfort

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katz-chow · 1 year

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because you're mine, i walk the line

synopsis: the boys are jealous, possessive even, and damnit, shakespeare was right, jealousy is a green-eyed monster aka how their jealousy manifests as and how they respond

warnings: hurt/comfort, partner aggression (mild), jealous boys, suggestive themes, insecurities, squabbling, slight angst, kinda cheating with gaz? but not really bc he's there and reader never talks to the otehr guy again

a/n: did this as my first ever writing collab and with the very talented @d0youc0py !! go check out their version of a jealous task force as well! this took a lot longer than i thought because of some personal life things. who knew planning a surprise baby shower was so hard?

“Nothing. I just thought you would’ve called, that’s all.” -John Price

It wasn’t normal for you to be out with your friends and come home with a bountiful of stories to tell John. I mean, it’s only normal because you both promised each other that there would be as much transparency as there can be between the two of you. Of course, government secrets and all can be difficult, but those were out of his hands.

Your arm gripped onto John’s as you struggled to kick off your shoes, and yet you were still blabbing on and on about the adventures you had with your friends. John smiled, only half listening as he focused on your well-being; the way your chest was a bit heavy as you start to run out of breath, the way you stumble slightly, still holding onto him, and definitely the state of your appearance as it wasn’t as pristine as it was when he had sent you off. Really though, the only important thing was your smile, that must mean it was a good time right?

“Oh, and this guy almost mugged us.” You said casually as you take off the shirt you were wearing to wear one of John’s hoodies instead. He choked on his water (he wanted to stay sober so that he can spring into action immediately).

“Love, what?” He said concerningly as he made his way over to you from your shared bed. Arms wrapped around your waist and chest pressed against your back, he lowers his voice. “Tell me what happened.”

Chills immediately ran up your spine and goosebumps laid on your skin as you tried to do your skincare routine. His eyes meet yours in the bathroom mirror, staring sharp and certain. You finally look at him, a sheepish smile on your face as you rubbed the lotion in. “It was fine anyway, this guy stepped in and like punched him before he could even turn away with the wallet. I think he was the only one who got hurt anyway.”

John’s gaze drooped a bit as he rested his chin on your shoulder, the grip he had on your waist wrapped around you and tightens just like a snake. You tense up. “What’s up with you, Baby? Missed me that much?” You tried to joke, but the slight uncertain quiver in your voice gave you away.

“Yes, but why didn’t you call me?” He mutters into your neck, his warm breath tingles. He lets his eyes close as he lets the remnants of your perfume become droplets in his lungs. “You know I’m there for you right?”

You hum in agreement and closed the remaining bottle. Twisting your torso over to his, you let your own arms run under his shirt and around his waist. You nuzzle your head against his chest. “I know, Baby…I know.”

Letting your hips sway a bit, you tried to lighten up the mood, letting him rub soothing circles into your back and head. Even with this adorable act you performed, he still remained tense and serious. You detach from his body and lift your chin up to better look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just thought you would’ve called, that’s all.” He whispers, barely above a sigh.

You twist your face into an amused and confused look and laughed a bit, “Are you…jealous?”

“No.”

He was a proud man, that much you knew. “Yeah, you’re not. Let’s go to bed.”

Finally, as if all tension had suddenly dissipated, John lifts and throws you over his shoulder lightly, carries you over to your shared bed, and settles you down as you found yourself in a pitful of giggles. He lays down next to you, his beard smells of him and the minty aftershave you got him for his birthday. You press a kiss to his cheek and flicks a strand of hair away from your face.

“Next time you call me, alright?”

“I promise.”

"We need to talk about that little stunt you pulled earlier"- Simon Riley

It wasn’t every day that Simon Riley, a literal dead man, went out for a rather fancy gathering. But who was he to deny the fancies of his dear spouse who had been invited to a rather extravagant wedding of their beloved friends? So, here Simon was, dressed to the nines, engaging…or well, listening to small talk between some groomsmen who decided he needed to be pulled into “The Boys” rather than trail behind you. In all honestly, Simon thinks it’s just because they’re all military washouts who believe that having Simon, an active member, will boost their appearances.

A sudden question snapped him out of his thought as he turned to the rather obnoxious man on his…nth drink. “You a real SAS lieutenant?”

“Sure.” Simon sighed agreeing and dismissively, not wanting to further egg him on to any conversation.

“So what’s up with the mask? You sick or sum’?” Another man asks, this one slightly smaller than the previous. He, too, was drunk as a skunk.

Simon grumbles and blinks away his anger just for a bit. “Just a cold.”

It was a dumb excuse but it seemed to satisfy the men in front of him as they returned to their conversation about cricket. His shoulders relax a bit as his grip on the champagne flute loosens. That was until his pretty eyes lingered around the scene until it got to yours. You, in your magnificent attire, shine in the garden venue's dim light. And then that pretty ring, which cost him a full year’s pay, winking at him playfully as your hand…grips a man’s bicep?

Simon’s head turned a bit, confused, and rather stern paint washed over him. Who is that? Why are you there with him? Why were you holding onto his bicep, practically feeling him up? As if on auto-pilot he walks over to you, mind nothing but focused on you. Simon was calm, when was he not when you were right there, staring at him with a wide smile on your face?

“Oh, hi baby!” She grin widely as the hand that was on the man next to Simon retracted from his side and snaked its way around his own arm. The champagne flute, as he now noticed, was left abandoned somewhere in his haze of 20 feet over to you. “Everyone, this is my husband, Simon. He has a bit of a sniffle…” You smile kindly as a hand gestures to the absolute unit of a man next to you.

Simon waves with his free arm and scrunches his eyes to mimic a polite smile. He turned over to your form and was met with the eyes of his partner. “Love, I need to talk to you.”

This surprised you, you didn’t expect him to have to talk to you about something so urgent that he had, rather aggressively, pulled you away from the main reception and into the nearly empty garden house lobby instead. You were starting to get rather upset at his shenanigans and ripped your arm away from his grip.

“What are you doing, Simon? The wedding is out there, we’re supposed to be-” He cuts you off as he cages you in between his hands and the wall that he had backed you up against. Through the small windows that lined the very top of the garden house, you could see the night sky and the yellow lights of the party just through these limewashed walls.

Simon, his voice deep and low, a warning to you as he leaned to your ear, “We need to talk about that little stunt you pulled earlier…”

Your body shook underneath as your heart skipped. Simon’s breath tickled against your skin. “What are you talking about?” You whisper, hesitantly and quite nervous as your eyes flickered from his and the wall past him. "What’s gotten into you?”

Simon huffs, the medical mask he adorned on his face was gone, what was left was a devilish grin plastered over his scarred lips. “You really don’t know? You think I didn’t see you feel up that man, hmm?” Lips to the base of your jaw caused you to gasp as he continued to trail his skin on yours.

It suddenly comes to your mind as to why Simon was acting so weird, so needy for you. “Are you talking about Conrad? The one with the prosthetic arm…?” Your voice shook as you looked up at him through your lashes, his face was unreadable but he was quiet. And with that, you knew the look on his face. “Are you... are you jealous?”

“No,” He quickly whispered, a hand reached up to tilt your chin up to his eye level. He felt stupid, letting jealousy seep in like tea and not noticing the rather obvious prosthetic that you were clearly just checking out.

“Let’s go home, say you have a fever.” You nod at him, your voice quiet.

"The Hell was that?" -Kyle Garrick

You knew better than to make Kyle upset or angry at you purposely, but you just couldn’t help it–especially when you two have been fighting for days. Fortunately, you two decided it would be better if you kept the fighting private, he’s pretty personal with his affairs with you anyway. So when the team asked you two on a night out to the local bar for the typical Friday night stress reliever, you two had to come to shut down rising suspicions.

To say the pub was loud was an understatement as the sound continued to drown out any thoughts in your head. Your grip on Kyle’s hand was loose and your small smile was the only thing that prevented the awful scowl that would plaster your face.

Even when Kyle sat next to you the whole time, he had his body turned away from you, rather to listen to Soap ramble on about some show he was watching than pay you any attention. You sat there on the stool, swirling the thin straw in your drink out of boredom. You swivel around the chair and look at the people mingling about. Ghost and Price were challenging each other to a game of darts and, well that’s it. Damn odd numbers…

“Lovely girl like you sitting here alone with a melted rum and coke?” A figure sits down next to you on the barstool.

You turn in surprise and smile at him kindly, shrugging. Then an idea came into that head of yours, “Date kinda left me here. Might as well just get a drink huh?”

The man laughed, his light brown curls bounced a bit. He was quite handsome. From what you could tell, his hair and beard would definitely be out of regulation, so…civilian. This should be fun. “Well, let me pick off where he left off then hm?”

You nod and smile politely at him, feeling Soap’s gaze on the man in front of you as he waves down the bartender to get you a drink. “You shouldn’t have the rum and coke, between you and me,” He leans in closer to you, “It sucks.”

The bartender sets down two glasses for you both, he pays and tips her, and you two cheer and takes a sip. You feel Kyle’s back bump against yours, both still too stubborn to end this charade of you egging him on.

Soon the stranger, which is a lovely civilian doctor by the name of James, led you by your hand to the small dance floor that started to form. Don’t know how but suddenly you’re dancing all over him and so is apparently every other couple also on a date. As you laugh and joke with the man in front of you, you feel Kyle’s gaze boring into your every movement, anger radiating off of him.

The night ends, James leaves after you assure him that you have a friend taking you home soon. You finally have a good time after being so riled up with Kyle, you even forgot that he was the “friend” that’s taking you home.

So you sit down next to him, and as if on cue, Soap leaves to watch Ghost’s and Price’s ever-increasing bar game competition. You gulp as you see his knuckles turn white from his grip on the beer he was holding.

“Told Soap we’re heading home. Let’s go.” He mutters to you as he downs the rest of the beer. He grabs his keys and walks out of the pub, not bothering to look at you as you nervously trail behind him.

The car door shut loudly after you climbed into his SUV. Even then, he insisted on opening your door for you. He followed suit. You both sat in his car, the engine was on but it wasn’t moving nor was there anyone doing anything but looking forward at the people exiting and entering the pub.

He spoke. “The Hell was that?”

You gulp and turn to him, your anger was starting to cloud the nervousness that shook you. “That was me having a good time for the first time this week.” You turn to him and snap.

“Really? Gonna continue that good time streak then, hm?” Kyle said to you, his eyes lingered on your stern expression, from your eyes to your lips.

“What are you talking…Oh. Oh,” You realize as he smirks at you and shakes his head a bit. He puts his arm on the cushion of the seat you’re sitting on, backing the car out of the parking spot.

You both don’t even remember what the fight was about after that.

"Kiss me." -Johnny MacTavish

Sparring for you was never easy. It wasn’t because you couldn’t spar, it was because it was a hassle and you were lazy. But Price had ordered you all to at least get something in to not lose that particular skill set, that was his reasoning anyway. Truthfully, he just wanted to “break in” the new squad of privates that had just been stationed at your base, really give them that “141 welcome home treatment”.

It was ass crack in the morning when you limped over to the awfully bright gym-warehouse-sparring building. They had the giant doors lifted up to allow for the cool dawn air to flow through and aerate the damp steel walls. Everyone was already there, except for Gaz, he slept in you guessed. ‘He knows what’s up,’ you snort to yourself.

“Hey, Love,” Johnny’s voice rang through to your ears as you turn around to him, further away from the both of you stood Ghost and some other sergeants ready to make the line of privates fight for their lives in the Colosseum. Their faces said enough with it drained of color except for the dark circles forming under their eyes. “Better get up there you.”

He smacks your ass and you shoot him a playful glare as you walk towards the action, but of course shouting to him a playful comment, “You’re just gonna stand there and look pretty then?”

He laughs and shrugs as he grabs his thermos of coffee and stands off to the side. You roll your eyes and turn your attention to Ghost who’s pairing everyone up. “Think you handle that one right there?”

You look at where he nodded to, an E-2 who seems like he has better things to do than to be here. Honestly, he probably didn’t given he’s fresh out of basic. You snort and hit Ghost playfully, “Knock him off his high horse? Give me 30 minutes and motherfucker would be crawling outta here.”

Ghost grunted in what seemed to be a laugh and called the private over. He stood and could look Ghost in the eyes without tilting his head up too much, so you considered that pretty tall. After that, it was you and ass-kickin’ time.

Johnny, however, had finally decided to watch in as he heard your name being thrown around and a string of praises following it, so of course he had to be there to witness. But as he watch you easily throw around this guy, he couldn’t help but also watch his gaze on you. The way he licks his lips and smirks ever so slightly when you’re both on the floor. Or the way he lets you wrap your strong legs around his waist to throw him down. Johnny doesn’t like it.

He walks over to Ghost and whispers something, a usual grin and a joke thrown in to lighten and cover his facade of the bubbling anger he felt. Ghost knew though, the way his pal was practically spitting out that dick joke threw him for a loop. “Alright, that’s enough. Drink some water, you have 5 minutes!”

With that, Johnny took his cue and jogged over to you after you helped the private up from the blue mat. You pat him on the shoulder and grabbed your hand and squeezed it, your furrowed eyebrows together quizzingly. “Love, I got your water bottle over there,” he said, pointing to the corner the private was.

“Oh thanks, Johnny, you’re the best.” He leads you over and the private side-eyes him and he glares back. You unknowingly went to just grab your bottle and drink up to moisten your drying throat as you pant.

Johnny grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him, your eyes wide as you try to gulp down the water in your mouth. You lightly toss the bottle away back to its corner and look at your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Kiss me,” he says more demanding than he would’ve liked but they had to do it quickly as the private’s eyes were still on them.

He pulls you closer and giggly, you push him away. “Johnny! No, not right here!”

“Please?” He pulls out his puppy dog eyes that just frame his baby blues into the cutest thing ever.

You pout and roll your eyes, “Fine, only because you’re so cute.” Your lips close the gap between you and unknown to you, his eyes peek open to shoot the private, now creepily watching you two, a glare that could set him on fire. The private quickly turns his head and clears his throat.

Johnny stayed with you the rest of the day and Ghost made the private stay back for some extra sparring since he “wasn’t satisfied” with how you had beaten him every time.

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woniefull · 6 months

Text

we can't be friends

hi guys!! this is my very first piece of writing! constructive criticism is always welcomed. please don't mind any grammatical/spelling errors. i wrote this at 2 in the morning and just wanted to do something fun. i still have a lot of room for improvement but i hope you guys enjoy!

warning: little angsty

song: we can't be friends (wait for your love) - ariana grande

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he was the sweetest boy to you when you had first met. his puppy eyes, gorgeous smile, and brown fluffy hair were what drew you in. his flirty words towards you, and only you, had you captivated in a heartbeat.

that’s why you couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of you right now.

“oh god please don’t start.” jake groaned as you stared at him with angry eyes. or was it hurt? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m not starting anything! if anything you are! why are you still talking to your ex after the countless times she’s crossed the boundaries in our relationship? i’ve told you how i feel about her!" your voice croaked and you felt helpless.

you had always tried your best to not be that jealous girlfriend everyone hates. but how could you? jake was attractive and every girl tried to get at him. it didn’t help that he was oblivious to the advances the women around him would give. that’s why you would get angry, but never at him.

“how many times do i have to tell you that she came up to me? i was just being polite by having a conversation with her”.

jake was sitting on the couch now. his hands covering his face, unaware of the tears forming in your eyes.

it always came down to this. you voicing your problem with jake entertaining other girls and him trying to reassure you.

trying.

you both were growing tired of the constant arguing.

“jake she was pushing herself all up on you and you just stood there! can you imagine how that made me feel? watching my boyfriend have another girl's hands all over him as if she were the girlfriend?” you were hurt. it hurt. all of this hurt. you knew this wasn’t your boyfriend’s fault. he had always been a gentleman, one of the many qualities you loved about him. but his next words made you second-guess yourself.

“that’s just her character, doll. she’s always been like that from the moment i met her. this jealousy thing of yours really needs to stop, it’s not cute anymore”. jake almost immediately regretted his words as he saw your reaction. he knew he was wrong.

“you think i do this to be cute? am i joke to you?” you cried out.

you don’t remember when everything went wrong. you don’t remember the last time you felt secure in your relationship. maybe you weren’t ready for all of this.

“no, love i’m sorry i didn’t mean that” jake said as he quickly got up and made his way towards you.

“i’m so sorry, i just had a difficult day that’s all”. he slipped his arm around your waist and used the other to wipe your tears away.

“jake”

he looked at your eyes.

“whatever you’re about to say please don’t” jake pleaded.

“jake i just think we aren’t ready for this. for us”. you started to sob again.

“i think we need to let each other go. we need to grow and learn to understand ourselves before we can understand each other".

“please” jake said as he dipped his head into your neck.

you let him stay there for a while before you detached yourself from him. it was hard to because jake wouldn’t let go. he knew it would be a while before he held you again.

“i’m sorry jake, i really am” you said with a small smile, trying your best not to completely break down again.

“no i’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

“we both had fault in this jake, don’t blame yourself.”

you both stood there for a moment, observing each other. it was as if you guys were taking in your last moments together.

“i’m leaving now jake”. you wasted no time in collecting your things in order to head to the front door.

“thank you for everything, really. i know things didn’t end how we wanted them to but some of my best memories were with you. thank you jake”.

jake just stood there, still in disbelief at how quickly things had unraveled.

right as you were about to walk out he calls to you.

“can we still be friends?” a little hope is visible in his eyes. he hopes that you say yes so that he’s able to see you again.

“we can’t be friends”. and just like that you were gone. the only evidence of you ever being there was jake’s broken heart.

i’ll wait for your love jake thinks as he slowly walks over to the sofa and slumps down.

#fanfic #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #jakefic #sim jaeyun #enha #enha fluff #enha angst #enhypen angst #enhypen jake #heeseung #jay #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #ni ki

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solomons-poison · 8 months

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◇ What being married to Buggy is like ◇

Buggy is the type that, once you two are married, he's constantly bringing up "My wife" to his crew, his enemies and victims, and just generally to people he doesn't even know because he's just so damn excited that you actually agreed to marry him.

The wedding was beyond flashy, possibly the noisiest and brightest celebration you've ever seen. And you can be sure everyone in a 50 mile radius is aware of your wedding. But you have to admit, your new husband can really throw a party. (He also sobs very loudly when you two are alone because he's just so in love with you and can't believe you agreed to marry him).

If he's got a ring, you can bet he's showing it off to everyone. He's likely even got a picture of you in a wallet or something and shows it off while going off on a tangent; the edges are clearly worn from how much he handles the picture.

Steals all kinds of goods to show you like some kind of courting bird, leaving you with a pile of things you don't know what to do with. Especially if it's shiny and expensive, you can bet he's bringing it back. Ends up being called "blue jay" or just "blue" for short for his colorful hair and love for shiny objects.

Buggy is quick to anger, even with his beloved wife. Arguments can end as quickly as they start, or it's a grudge that lasts ages; there is no in between. Sometimes it's over dumb shit, and sometimes it's a major miscommunication or an insecurity. It's very very difficult for him to admit fault first and apologize, sometimes causing another argument. But when he does apologize, expect some (stolen) flowers and chocolates.

If you two argue and you decide to sleep somewhere other than his bed, he WILL have a breakdown and come crying to you telling you not to leave him.

He's clingy but won't admit it. Latches on to you in his sleep and complains if you try to leave his arms, or if you mention about him holding you. He doesn't like when you leave his sight and gets noticeably grumpier until he can see you and touch you again.

He puts up a good front when around others, but in private that all changes. Might have a nervous breakdown about the fact you're married, wondering if he's worthy of you or if he tied you down to a nobody. Chances of him confessing this to you significantly increase when he's drunk, his face completely red from effects of the alcohol and he's lying across your lap or generally slumped over you. He's totally embarrassed when he wakes up.

Definitely wanted a tattoo of your face on his body and had to be convinced that it's a bad idea. Doesn't understand why.

Gets cheeky and flirty in public, especially if there's someone else that he feels is more confident or better than him around. Gets a little handsy if he sees anyone eyeing you, definitely using his detachable hands to his benefit.

Mihawk and Crocodile don't hide from openly flirting with you/checking you out, even if they're not serious about it, and it makes Buggy explode.

Completely melts when you call him all sorts of pet names, regardless of how silly they are, and will always reciprocate. "Buggy boo", "honeybunch", "sweetie pie", "sweetheart", "Bugs", "blue", are some favorites. Even when you call him "crazy clown", he loves it. However, his ultimate favorite will always be just plain "husband" (or "hubby").

He's the epitome of "my wife can do no wrong"... except when you do something that angers him or you're in an argument lmao. But only he gets to be angry at you; if anyone else complains or starts something, they're dead.

Generally, married life to Buggy is a wild one full of ups and downs. But he tries his best to make it a fulfilling one.

#buggy x reader #buggy hcs #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece hcs #the minx can write ✍️

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zentraex · 9 months

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Wishing on World Wish Day is a funny thought. Magic doesn’t exist in our world. Still, trying doesn’t hurt, right? Maybe your favourite fictional character comes to life?

Remember: English is a lot different than German. I apologise for any grammar mistakes.

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Yandere, Mentioning of Masturbation, Stalking

From Another World

Monday, 29. April 2024

Dear Diary,

Today is World Wish Day. Normally, I don't believe in that, but what's wrong with giving it a try, right? After all, no one will know but you, so it's worth a try, even if it's just for fun.

I'm totally obsessed with this anime: "My Hero Academia". It's been a long time since I've watched the anime and yet I can't stop throwing my money out the window for merch. After all this time, I still read fanfictions about Katsuki. I wish someone like him would exist in real life, or better yet, he would exist, explicitly. Do you think he'd like me then? I hope so. I like him so much that my heart wouldn't take it if he hated me.

With red cheeks, you close the book and grin to yourself. It's a silly entry, but you still love to think about "what if..." situations.

And what better day to try than World Wish Day?

Maybe, just maybe, the wish will come true after all.

You giggle again, what a stupid thought.

A loud noise that you can't assign wakes you up the next day. Tired, you rub your eyes and glance at your phone's clock.

It's an hour before your alarm goes off and you need to get ready for school. Smiling, you lie down again, but the rumbling in your apartment startles you up.

Your parents are on vacation and you should be alone.

A burglar...

is your first thought. Your heart pounds against your chest as you reach for the baseball bat in your closet. It was a gift from your childhood friend. You don't have any contact with them anymore, but you find it difficult to detach yourself from things.

Who would have thought that it could be of use after all?

The sleepiness is completely gone and adrenaline is pumping in your veins. Completely in a state of euphoria, you are not even silent as you rush into the living room, club firmly in your grip and ready to strike.

Of course, the burglar notices you. Your footsteps are not quiet. But don't worry, someone like him would even notice you if you sneaked up.

It's dark, you can only vaguely see his head turned in your direction.

You swing with full power...

...

... but suddenly it explodes, your bat. The blast causes you to fall back to the floor of your room and the smell of smoke blocks your nasal cavities. Your breath is shaking and your body trembles.

Was the explosion real?

You don't even have time to think about it, because a few milliseconds after your impact, the burglar grabs you by the face and pushes your upper body down. You can feel how he puts pressure on your body with his legs, not only immobilizing you completely, but also causing you immense pain.

What do you do in such a situation?

Right! Crying and begging.

"T-Take what you want," you begin as fat balls of water flow through your face. "Just not the family pictures, my mother is very attached to them. Please don't take my beloved father's trophy either, he's so proud of them," you sniff. "A-and please don't take the necklace in my jewelry box. It's a family heirloom."

The otherwise silent room fills itself with your sobs as you tell him about the things that are worth so much to you and your family. He doesn't say anything.

You're scared. Your field of vision is blocked by his hand, it stinks of smoke, you are immobilized and everything hurts. All the while, the burglar is silent.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he says after a while.

"Huh?"

The grip on your face comes loose and your watery eyes show you a blurry gray vision of a man. His voice sounds like Bakugou's.

"You kidnapped me, why are you begging like a baby now?"

It takes a while for you to be able to process the info. The last heavy drops roll down your cheeks and your vision are clearing. There is a man in front of you and he has light, spiky hair and a prominent face that you would recognize anywhere.

"B-Bakugou?" it slips out of you. "A Bakugou cosplayer?"

He looks and sounds one-on-one like Bakugou, your beloved anime character.

At the mention of his name, his grips tighten again, eliciting a whimper from you.

"I'll give you ten seconds. Tell me who you are and how you know my name. Why am I here?"

"I-I'm Reader a-and I know the character you're cosplaying because I'm a huge fan of him, a-"

He interrupts you by putting a hand on your mouth.

"Figure that I cosplay? I'm real."

Shit, I'm dying at the hands of a maniac...

He looks at you for a while before speaking again.

"I'm going to let you go now, turn on the lights. Don't do shit, you’ll regret it."

He doesn't let go of you until you nod. For the first time, you can breathe properly, but your limbs still hurt unbearably. On shaky legs, you walk to the light switch and then turn towards the person.

Now that you can see it closely, you notice that he looks like the real Bakugou down to the smallest detail.

Crazy...

When you look into his eyes, you notice how he looks around the room. Your whole walls are full of him, your bed is full of plushies, and your closets have a whole bunch of Bakugou figurines. Even your pajamas have a Bakugou pattern.

"Are you a stalker? Shit, ended up with a lunatic."

"What? No! I'm just a huge fan of him."

He then just clicks his tongue and crosses his arms.

"Stop talking like I'm not real."

In the meantime, your pulse has regulated itself again. Maybe that's why you find the courage to raise your eyebrows skeptically and cross your arms.

"No, you're not. Bakugou is a fictional character. You really need to get help, my friend."

Then he says with gnashing teeth: "No, I'm not."

"Oh, yes? How do you think I get all the close-ups of you?"

He seems to pause and steps closer to the images. His gaze scans them all: the moment he collapsed in front of Deku after fighting him, when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains and sat tied up in a chair, when he fought Deku and Ochako with Ida on the team, and many more. More precisely, all the defining moments of his life are glued to your wall, just not from his perspective.

He has to swallow as he lets it sink in.

Could you be telling the truth?

No way, right? He experienced it! He can feel and think, how can he be fictional?

But then why do you have all these memories?

Suddenly, he is plagued by a headache and nausea almost makes him spit up.

Was his life just a show for people like you? Was it never about saving lives? To be a hero? All his work, courage, heroic deeds were not self-willed, but written by someone?

But he's here now, isn't he? He's made it to the real world, so he's thinking for himself now, isn't he?

But how did he do it?

His gaze wanders to you, who looks at him expectantly.

It must have something to do with you. After all, he's in your house for a reason, right?

Did you bring him to life?

"Look, I'm serious. I'm real. The explosion earlier, can anyone else do that?"

Your eyes widen, you've totally forgotten about it in the heat of the moment. A normal person can't do that, so how did he do it?

You are silent and your silence gives him the answer he needs.

"See? Maybe I was fictional, but you must have brought me here somehow."

Me?

Your gaze wanders to your journal and the idea that your wish has come true pops up.

Can it be?

Impossible...

It was just a stupid thought, a little joke to yourself. Magic doesn't exist in your world, but how do you explain this situation?

Suddenly, your heart is beating like crazy and your body is getting all hippy.

Bakugou Katsuki? Real? In your house?

However, the fan-girl in you only comes out briefly when you realize that you're not just standing in front of your big hero in your pajamas, but he's standing in your fan-girl room.

You can't even put into words the shame you suddenly feel when the blush goes to your head.

"S-So you're real, huh?" you say quietly. "That's cool."

Nervously, you play with your sweaty fingers and quickly realize how overwhelmed you actually are.

What are you doing now? What's the best way to deal with the situation?

"What do we do now? My parents are on vacation, so you can't stay here forever."

He frowns thoughtfully and asks, "How long are they on vacation?"

"Four days to go. I don't know if that's enough to find a way to bring you back to your world...", you murmur.

Bakugou pauses for a moment.

His world, huh? The world in which he is only fictional, controlled by the ideas of a stranger.

Does he really want that?

By now you're at school and Bakugou is alone in your house, bored. The TV program only brings junk, which is why his gaze wanders around your room all the time – nothing better to do anyway.

Something has been confusing him since the beginning of his arrival...

This strange feeling...

This feeling of...

Pride?

Proud that he is being loved here like this. Of course, in his world he also had fans, but no real ones. It elicits a grin full of arrogance from him.

He wants to feel it, recognition, appreciation, love.

Without much thought, he goes out and runs in any direction.

You are home in a series of apartment blocks close to the city center. So, it doesn't take long until he hears the first people talking about him.

"Oh my God, look at this Bakugou cosplay! How good is that?"

"How well taken!"

"Can I take a picture with you?"

This goes on all the time.

In the beginning it feels good, very good.

But...

Something is bothering him....

That he is not recognized as himself, but only as a costume. He puts his hands in his pocket and walks back with an annoyed expression. Almost at your apartment block, you run into him.

While he remains as still as a board, you almost fall over when you two collide.

"Bakugou!" you breathe a sigh of relief. You look like you've been scared, your skin sweaty and your eyes wide open. "I thought you didn't like it with me or something..."

Something is happening in him again.

He can't even describe this feeling...

No matter what it is, he likes it, very much and he has to pull himself together so that he doesn't start grinning.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I've had a look around here."

You smile and nod in understanding. In the meantime, you have calmed down and can think clearly again.

"I wanted to go to the library today and see if there are some solutions to bring you back. Do you want to come with me?"

Then his brow furrows again and he clicks his tongue.

"I don't have time for that."

Instead of being sad about the answer, you have to giggle. You've already expected such an answer, after all, you know him – and you love him just the way he is.

"That's okay. Here's the key to getting up. I'll see you later."

Deep down, he hopes you can't find a way to bring him back to his world.

You didn't find a way, not even for the next four days. Your only guess is that you'll have to wish him back next year on World Wish Day.

Hopefully this will work out...

As much as you like him, your favorite character doesn't belong to your world. Here, he has no IDs, people only know him as a character, he can't live the life as a hero that he wants to and he doesn't have a place to stay.

His life would be a disaster here and you don't wish that for him.

But how do I make it possible for him to live here for a year?

Your front door rings and your face turns pale.

Your parents...

As you walk to your door with your legs shaking like crazy, you swear your heart stopped for a second.

"Reader, you should have told us about the current situation!"

...

"And you could have introduced us to your boyfriend earlier!"

What?

Your gaze wanders to Bakugou, who smirks at you while your mother hugs him.

"My poor son-in-law, you were afraid of ending up on the street after your parents died."

Your father puts a hand on Bakugou's shoulder.

"As long as you continue to treat my daughter well, you can stay here for eternity, Mania."

"I found someone on the internet who would fake all this paperwork," Bakugou says.

"Yes? This is good. Do you want me to come with you?"

He shakes his head.

"No, it's too dangerous."

You just nod silently, and turn to your wall.

Sighing, you begin to tear down the pictures on your wall.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to rip it all of. It's certainly creepy for you to see all the photos of you. You live here and I want you to feel comfortable."

"It doesn't bother me."

Surprised, you turn to him.

"Sure?"

"Yes."

You gaze at his laid-back form, missing out on his racing heart.

For some reason, he didn't like it.

For some reason, he panicked.

For some reason, he had started taking pictures of you as well...

"Today is your first day of school, excited?"

"No."

"Not a bit?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

This time, you only get an annoyed look in response, after which you just laugh.

Bakugou then turns his gaze to the ground and fights the flush of his cheeks with a frown.

No matter how grumpy or negative he reacts, you always seem to be smiling.

He's noticed how well you seem to know him.

"You don't mean it."

And every time you were right.

No matter what he did, you always seem to like it.

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

At school, he quickly realizes that you're incredibly popular.

Especially the boys seem to like you a lot...

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

Since he's been in your world, he feels less and less like a hero...

When you leave the house, he follows you in the shadwos. The fear that something could happen to you is so big that he wants to lock you up...

He takes pictures of you all the time. If you take a shower, he'll sneak in and steal a few moments, only to be able to blow off steam later.

When you're sleeping, he lies down next to you without you knowing.

He takes advantage of your ignorant parents to be able to play "couple" with you.

Maybe that's his true self?

His gaze darkens as a classmate embraces you.

Bloodlust leaves him thirsty for violence.

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

He’s sure you'll accept it that way as well.

#yandere #mha #bnha #mha x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #yandere bakugou #mha yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #Katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #Yandere Katsuki #Bakugou #yandere katsuki x reader

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alilixx · 2 months

Text

James Wilson x Fem!Cardiologist Reader

Heartbeats and Invisible Connections

Nothing to say so i hope you will like it! Btw i just rewatch The devil wears Prada and i love smmm MIRANDA??? I mean, i will write on her soon (i will never abandon House md, everything for my girls!

Warning: Mature, NSFW, Some Dark!Wilson, death, House being House.

Pairing: James Wilson x Fem!Cardiologist Reader

Laughter could be heard in the hospital room, just like every day. The young boy in front of you was in tears from laughing so hard at the TV, and you were just as amused as he was. After all, you were watching The Powerpuff Girls! You knew it was his favorite cartoon, so you watched every new episode with him. Even though Cuddy wasn't too thrilled about it, you spent at least two hours a day with the young patient. Blake was a five-year-old child suffering from an incurable heart condition. A malformation took up too much space, hindering the development of his lungs. The chance of survival after surgery was minimal, so you couldn't offer it.

Blake had been entrusted to you two years ago, when his mother passed away from pancreatic cancer. His father, a very busy businessman, gradually stopped coming to visit. At first, he would come occasionally, but soon he no longer found the time to visit his own son, citing a busy schedule. You tried to understand, but deep down, you couldn't accept this prolonged absence. How could someone leave their child to face such a serious illness without parental support?

You then promised yourself that you would never let Blake feel abandoned. You became more than a doctor to him; you were his guardian, his pillar, the only constant in his turbulent life. The first few months were difficult. How do you explain to a three-year-old that his father was abandoning him? It was almost impossible. Blake often cried, asking why his father no longer came. Your heart broke every time, but you found the words to comfort him, inventing stories about heroes and adventures to give him hope and joy.

Over time, you established a routine. You came by every morning to gently wake him up, often with a special breakfast you brought from home. You shared these simple but precious moments before starting the long days of tests and treatments. Blake loved The Powerpuff Girls, and you quickly adopted the habit of watching the episodes with him. It was a comforting ritual, a bubble of happiness in an often dark daily life.

With every operation, every scan, every MRI, you were there. You held his hand, reassured him, promised him that everything would be okay. Even though you knew the chances were slim, you always kept hope. Blake had become like a little brother to you. You admired his courage, his ability to smile despite everything. His resilience gave you the strength to carry on, even when the weight of reality seemed too heavy to bear.

The other doctors and nurses respected your dedication, though some whispered that you were getting too emotionally involved. But how could you not? How could you remain detached when a child depended on you for everything, when he called for a hug in the middle of the night after a nightmare, when he proudly showed you his drawings and asked for your opinion? Blake needed you, and you were ready to do anything for him.

One morning, as you were preparing Blake for yet another round of tests, you found yourself thinking about the future. What would become of Blake if... No, you couldn't think that way. You shook yourself mentally and focused on the present. Today, he would watch a new episode of The Powerpuff Girls, and you would be there by his side to share his laughter and tears. You owed him that much.

Every day was a battle, but also a victory, no matter how small. And you would continue to fight for Blake because he deserved it, because he was more than just a patient—he was a part of you.

Of course, he cost you a snack every day because the young boy had a sweet tooth. Several chocolate bars, whether caramel, coconut, or other flavors, you knew he would eat them. You ate together to keep him company; eating alone as a child in the hospital wasn't easy.

Months passed, and you noticed that Blake seemed more tired than usual. He had started to complain about unusual pains, and you noted a worrying pallor on his face. Your medical instinct pushed you to look deeper, to understand what was wrong. After a series of initial tests, you still couldn't determine the exact cause of his symptoms. One night, as Blake slept peacefully after an exhausting day, you found yourself in your office, immersed in his medical files.

It was then that you decided to consult James Wilson, the head of oncology at the hospital. You knew his reputation and expertise because you had risen through the ranks together, and you knew he would be the best person to help you understand what was happening to Blake. You occasionally saw him during department head meetings at the hospital.

The next morning, after preparing Blake for his routine tests, you headed to Wilson's office. As you knocked on the door, you felt both anxious and determined. Wilson looked up from his papers and greeted you with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Dr. [Y/N]. What can I do for you?" he asked, gesturing for you to sit.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson. I need your expertise. One of my patients, Blake, is exhibiting some troubling symptoms, and I can't identify the exact cause. I'm afraid it might be something serious."

Wilson nodded, his expression becoming more serious. "Alright, tell me more about his symptoms and show me his files."

You spent the next thirty minutes detailing Blake's condition, his medical history, and the results of recent tests. Wilson listened attentively, asking pertinent questions and taking down important notes.

"I'll need to examine Blake myself and perhaps order a few additional tests," he said finally. "What you're describing could be several things, but I want to be sure before drawing any conclusions."

You nodded, grateful for his help. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson. I just want to make sure we're doing everything we can for him."

Later in the day, Wilson joined Blake in his room. With your reassuring presence by his side, Blake showed courage and cooperated during the additional examinations. The following days were filled with tests and anxious waiting.

Finally, the results came in. The diagnosis was devastating: Blake had developed heart cancer, a rare but possible complication of his pre-existing heart condition. The news hit you like a punch, but you knew you had to stay strong for Blake.

You turned to Wilson, feeling the weight of this news. "What do we do now?" you asked, determined not to give up.

"We're going to fight," he replied calmly. "I'll work with you and the team to develop a treatment plan. Blake is an incredibly brave little boy, and he deserves all our efforts."

You simply nodded before returning to his room, holding his hand while you sat beside his bed. He slept peacefully, and you rested your head on his arm. The past few days had been complicated due to the stress. Cuddy had quickly stopped by after hearing the news from Wilson. She looked at you through the window before leaving a few minutes later.

The following days were even harder. Should you tell him? Explain that he would die sooner? Leave him in denial? These choices were impossible to make, but your routine didn't change. He shouldn't know until you made a decision.

Unfortunately, today was a night shift for you. You returned to your office, lingering over Blake's adoption file, but decided to leave to avoid sinking even further. Hours passed, and you could finally take your break, which you obviously spent with Blake. Without realizing it, a single tear fell down your cheek. Just one. But in that tear lay all the pain contained for days.

This tear was wiped away by the only man who could understand your suffering. James.

"Cry, Dr. [Y/N]. Now that I’m here with you, you’re free to reveal your sadness," he said softly, his comforting hand resting on your shoulder.

Those words, full of compassion and understanding, broke down the last barriers you had built to contain your pain. You finally let out the tears you had been holding back for so long. James stayed by your side, offering his silent but powerful support. You shared a moment of raw humanity, where the roles of doctors faded away, giving way to those of human beings facing suffering and uncertainty.

After a long while, you pulled yourself together, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, James. I needed that."

"We're all in this fight together," he replied with a comforting smile. "And we will do everything for Blake."

Your next destination was Cuddy's office. You took a moment before opening the door, and when you opened and closed it behind you, your words came out in a rush.

"I'm giving up on Blake's adoption file."

She looked up from her computer and simply nodded. She knew the file wouldn't be accepted; she just wanted you to make that decision yourself. You had worked with her for about ten years, so yes, she knew how you operated. After that, interactions with Cuddy became less frequent. It wasn't her fault, but her office reminded you too much of the premature death that Blake was going to face.

You saw James often enough to discuss Blake's case. Sometimes, he even joined you for lunch. You found this rather pleasant. James had a unique way of making Blake smile, even in the most difficult moments. His anecdotes, subtle humor, and reassuring presence provided a certain comfort that you couldn't deny.

One day, after sharing a meal with Blake and James, you found yourself feeling a bit lighter, almost optimistic. The bond developing between you and James was a valuable support. You spent hours discussing treatment options, analyzing test results, and exploring every possibility to give Blake a chance to pull through.

Despite the grim diagnosis, every little progress, every smile from Blake, and every moment shared with James gave you the strength to continue.

One evening, as you were finishing your rounds, James joined you in the hallway. "I wanted to thank you," he said, his eyes filled with sincerity. "For everything you do for Blake, and for allowing someone like me to be a part of this fight."

You smiled, touched by his words but still mindful of his reputation as a flirt. "I should be the one thanking you. Your presence makes a huge difference, not only for Blake but also for me."

He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart beat a little faster. "You don't have to carry all of this alone. We're a team, remember."

Months passed, and despite all the efforts by you, James, and the medical team, Blake's condition continued to deteriorate. Each day, you saw his smile become a bit more fragile, his voice a bit weaker, but his will to live remained astonishingly strong. The relationship between you and James grew stronger, and he became one of the most important people to you during this dark period. You spent more and more time together, sharing the sorrows and the rare moments of joy.

Blake continued to laugh at his favorite Powerpuff Girls, devouring the chocolate bars you brought him each day. James often joined your small meals, bringing with him a comforting presence and a quiet strength that helped you hold on.

Despite all attempts at treatment, Blake's heart cancer was too advanced. The discussions with James grew more serious, more somber, as options dwindled. You had tried to protect Blake from the gravity of his situation, but he wasn't fooled. One day, as you were watching an episode of his favorite cartoon, he took your hand and asked in a soft but determined voice:

"Am I going to die, Y/N?"

The shock of his words left you speechless for a moment. You exchanged a glance with James, who stood silently beside you. Finally, you took a deep breath and answered with heartfelt sincerity:

"We are doing everything we can to keep you healthy, Blake. But yes, your illness is very serious."

Blake nodded, seeming to accept this reality with a surprising maturity for his age. "Thank you for telling me. I'm glad you're both here."

The following weeks were marked by a melancholic tenderness. You did everything possible to make Blake's last days as happy and comfortable as possible. Laughter was mingled with tears, each moment becoming precious and fleeting.

Then, one morning, as you arrived at the hospital, you felt a heaviness in the air. Entering Blake's room, you found James already there, sitting by the bed, holding Blake's hand. The little boy was sleeping peacefully, an unusual serenity on his face.

"He's gone," James murmured, tears in his eyes. "He fell asleep without pain."

You felt overwhelmed by a wave of sadness, but also relief. Blake no longer had to suffer. You sat on the other side of the bed, taking his small, cold hand in yours. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

"We did everything we could," James said softly. "And he knew he was loved until the end."

These words brought some comfort. Blake had been surrounded by the love and dedication of those who cared most for him. You spent a long time by his side, with James, mourning the loss of the brave little boy but also celebrating the life he had, no matter how short.

The days that followed were filled with mourning and memories. James’s presence beside you was invaluable, and together, you found the strength to say goodbye to Blake and to move forward, despite the pain.

Blake had been more than just a patient. And even though he was no longer here, his memory would continue to live on in you, constantly reminding you why you became a cardiologist, though your mental health did not improve despite your attempts at positivity.

After all this, you barely left the hospital. You hardly slept anymore. Running on energy drinks and coffee, your heart grew increasingly fragile. You no longer took much care of yourself, doing just enough to survive and continue your work. The loss of Blake, whom you considered your little brother, was a gaping wound. Although you knew it was better for him, you couldn’t accept the truth. Years of fighting for this, only for him to ultimately succumb to cancer, made you feel nauseous.

One evening, as you were changing in the locker room, you heard footsteps approaching. James approached you gently, causing you to flinch slightly. You were still lost in your thoughts, pondering a solution that had eluded you, a miracle that had never come.

"Y/N," he began softly, his voice full of compassion. "It's not your fault. Life is sometimes unfair, but he's better off where he is. It's hard, and I understand, but take care of yourself as Blake would have wanted. I'm not telling you to live the life he should have had, but not to destroy yourself in an 'honor' to him."

His words, though well-intentioned, hit you like a slap. "Don’t tell me how I should feel!" you retorted sharply, anger and pain mingling in your voice. But seeing the sadness and understanding in James’s eyes, you realized you had reacted too abruptly. "I’m sorry, James. I know you’re trying to help."

James shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "You don’t have to apologize. I know how hard it is. But you can’t keep going like this; you’re going to destroy yourself."

What you didn’t know was that Cuddy was behind it all. She was deeply concerned for you. Unable to bear seeing her head of service fall apart, she had asked James to look out for you, even if it meant spending more time at your place or inviting you to stay at his.

In the following days, James increased his presence. He regularly came to see you, encouraging you to talk about how you were feeling. One evening, after a particularly grueling day, he invited you to dinner at his place. You accepted, too exhausted to refuse.

At James’s home, the atmosphere was soothing. The simplicity of his apartment and the warmth of his welcome all helped you feel a bit better. You spent the evening talking, not about work or Blake, but about everything and nothing—childhood memories, dreams, passions.

"You know," James said at one point, setting down his coffee cup, "Cuddy asked me to look out for you. She’s worried about you, just like I am. You’re important to us, to the hospital. But more than that, you’re important to yourself. Blake wouldn’t want to see you destroy yourself like this."

These words touched you deeply. The harsh reality of your situation, combined with the immense fatigue you felt, began to crumble under the warmth of James’s compassion and support.

"I know it’s hard to hear this now," he continued, "but you need time to heal. And you don’t have to do it alone."

Tears began to silently stream down your cheeks. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel the pain, without pushing it away, without hardening yourself. James approached and gently embraced you, letting you cry against him.

"I'm here," he murmured. "We’re here for you."

In the following days, you began to accept James’s help. He would join you for long walks after work, make sure you ate properly and got some rest. You knew the road to healing would be long, but with James by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope begin to emerge.

Seeing that you were improving, Cuddy called you into her office one day. "I’m proud of you," she said simply. "And I know Blake would be too."

You smiled, feeling a newfound strength within you. "Thank you, Cuddy. For everything."

One of the long evenings at James's place, you sat side by side on the couch. Exhausted from the emotions and work, you couldn’t help but let your head fall onto James's shoulder. "What movie do you want to watch?" he asked, not realizing that you had already dozed off. He looked at you tenderly before taking your hand and gently stroking it. James was aware that the role of a cardiologist was demanding; you often worked with children for diagnoses, and he knew it was exhausting and that you slept little.

Gently, he slipped one hand behind your back and the other under your knees. Carefully standing up, he cradled your light body in his arms and carried you to his bedroom, where he laid you down on the bed with great care. You had already fallen deeply asleep and were unaware of the situation. James tenderly stroked your cheek, once again gazing at your face.

"Rest well, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You’ve given so much for Blake. Let me take care of you now."

He adjusted the blanket over you, ensuring you were snug and warm. Then he quietly withdrew, making sure not to make any noise. As he closed the door, he cast a final glance to ensure you were sleeping peacefully.

James settled on the couch with a book, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought about you, your strength and pain, and how much he wanted to help you through this tough time. Hours passed, and eventually, exhausted himself, he fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up in a room you didn't immediately recognize. The events of the previous evening slowly came back to you. You remembered being at James’s place, having fallen asleep on the couch�� and now you were in his bed. A feeling of warmth and security enveloped you.

Hearing your movements, James got up and came to join you. "Good morning," he said with a gentle smile. "I hope you slept well."

You nodded, touched by his care. "Thank you, James. For everything."

“There’s no need to thank me. You need rest, and I’m here to help,” he said sincerely. “Now, let’s have a nice breakfast. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You sat down at the table, noticing pancakes and fruits you loved. The sight of the carefully prepared food comforted you, and you began to eat with appetite. What you didn’t know was that Wilson had added nicotine to your drink. His goal? To make your brain associate the pleasure and dependence on nicotine with his own presence, creating a subtle and gradual addiction to him.

You took a sip of your drink, savoring its taste. Quickly, a sense of relaxation washed over you, soothing your tense nerves. You felt strangely good, almost euphoric. The food, the coffee, the reassuring presence of James… everything seemed perfect.

“These pancakes are delicious,” you said with a smile. “Did you really take the time to make all this?”

James nodded, his gaze full of tenderness. “I wanted you to start the day on a positive note. You deserve to feel good, Y/N.”

You continued eating, feeling better and better with each bite and sip. The nicotine was working its magic, reinforcing the positive association with James. You felt closer to him, more dependent on his comforting presence.

James, discreetly observing your reactions, saw that his plan was working. He knew you were vulnerable, and he wanted to be the one to support you, the one you would need. He wanted you, just for himself.

As the days went by, a routine settled in. James often prepared meals for you, inviting you to share these moments of respite and comfort. Every meal you had together seemed to give you renewed energy and strength. What you didn’t know was that James continued to add nicotine to your drinks, subtly increasing your dependency.

“There’s no need to thank me. You need rest, and I’m here to help,” he said sincerely. “Now, let’s have a nice breakfast. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

“These pancakes are delicious,” you said with a smile. “Did you really take the time to make all this?”

James nodded, his gaze full of tenderness. “I wanted you to start the day on a positive note. You deserve to feel good, Y/N.”

Sitting at the table, you took a sip of your drink, immediately feeling a sense of well-being wash over you. James watched you discreetly, satisfied to see that his plan was working. You felt better, calmer, and most importantly, you felt dependent on these shared moments with him.

Days turned into weeks, and your dependence on James became increasingly evident. He had become your anchor, your refuge. You could no longer imagine going a day without seeing him, without feeling the sense of well-being he provided. The nicotine had done its job, but it was James's love and attention that had truly made you addicted.

Seeing that his plan was working perfectly, James decided to reinforce your dependence even further. One evening, after a particularly pleasant dinner, he suggested that you stay at his place for the night. You accepted without hesitation, feeling safe with him. While you slept, he discreetly installed surveillance apps on your phone and computer, allowing him to track your movements and communications.

The next morning, you woke up feeling refreshed, completely unaware of the ongoing manipulations. James greeted you with a smile as you emerged from sleep. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," you replied with a smile. "I feel much better."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, handing you a cup of coffee. "Let's start the day on a positive note."

With James by your side, you began to slowly rebuild your life, unaware of the subtle manipulation that had facilitated this dependence. To you, James had become indispensable, the pillar you could always count on, and you had no idea of the shadow of his plan that loomed over your relationship.

Months had passed since Blake's loss, and your relationship with James Wilson had evolved remarkably, even if it was partly due to manipulation.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day at the hospital, you found yourself at James's place once again. You had developed a sort of ritual: after work, you would go to his home for dinner, conversation, and much-needed respite during this tumultuous period of your life. That night, the atmosphere was especially soothing. The dim light in the living room, the whisper of the wind through the open windows, and the comforting warmth of James's home created an ambiance conducive to deeper confessions.

As you sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, the conversation drifted to more personal topics. You found yourself sharing stories and thoughts that you had never dared to confide in anyone else.

"You know, James, I don't think I could have gone through all this without you," you said softly, looking at your glass as if searching for answers. "You've become an essential part of my life, and I can't imagine moving forward without you."

James looked at you with a tenderness you had never truly noticed before. "Y/N, you are incredibly strong. But even the strongest among us need support. And I am so glad I can be here for you."

He set down his glass and took your hand in his, a comforting gesture that sent a wave of warmth through your body. "We've been through so much together, and I believe it has brought us closer in ways neither of us could have predicted."

The silence that followed was charged with emotion. You turned slightly toward him, searching in his eyes for confirmation of what you were feeling. And in his eyes, you saw the same spark, the same depth of feeling that burned within you.

"James…" you began, but words failed you. He seemed to understand, as he gently leaned in, closing the distance between your faces.

"Y/N, I think what we have goes beyond friendship or mere professional support. I've grown attached to you in a way I never thought possible."

His words resonated within you, and before you could respond, he leaned even closer and delicately pressed his lips to yours. It was a tender kiss, filled with all the unspoken emotions, all the shared moments, all the mingled pain and comfort.

The kiss lingered, your hands naturally finding their way into each other’s hair, and for the first time in a long while, you felt whole. When you finally separated, your breaths were staggered, but your eyes shone with the same emotion.

“I love you, Y/N,” James murmured, his eyes locked onto yours.

“I love you too, James,” you replied without hesitation, feeling a certainty you had never felt before.

You spent the evening talking about your feelings, your fears, and your hopes for the future. You fell asleep in each other's arms, finally finding peace in each other's presence.

The days that followed were marked by a new dynamic between you. At the hospital, you continued to work as professionals, but the exchanged glances, shared smiles, and subtle touches spoke of a blossoming love. The support you had always shared became even stronger, solidified by the intimate relationship you now had.

James continued to keep a close watch on you, ensuring that you were taking care of yourself. And you, although you were still unaware of some of his past manipulations, felt increasingly grounded in this new life. Meals together, evenings spent talking and watching movies, and shared nights became precious moments where you finally felt loved and understood.

However, it was impossible to completely avoid Gregory House’s sharp gaze. Nothing escaped the doctor renowned for his keen insight, and he had quickly noticed the changes in the relationship between you and James.

One afternoon, while you were in the break room, House hobbled in with his characteristic cane, a curious and mocking glint in his eyes. He settled heavily onto the couch across from you, fixing you with an enigmatic smile.

“So, Y/N, I’ve heard that Wilson has become your knight in shining armor,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You blushed slightly, but you didn’t let House intimidate you. “Yes, you could say that,” you replied calmly.

House nodded, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Interesting. But tell me, do you really know everything about your valiant knight? Because, you know, Wilson has always had a knack for hiding his little manipulations.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of concern. “What are you trying to say, House?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing specific. Just an observation. Be careful, that’s all. Wilson has a dark side, and sometimes he thinks his actions are justified by noble intentions.”

Before you could respond, James entered the room, a defiant expression on his face. “House, maybe you could find someone else to annoy,” he said tersely, positioning himself protectively between you and House.

House raised his hands in surrender, but his sneaky smile didn’t fade. “Alright, alright. I’m leaving. But remember, secrets have a way of surfacing.”

He left the room, leaving you with a sense of unease. James turned to you, his eyes softened with concern. “Don’t let him get to you, Y/N. House likes to sow doubt. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, trying to shake off the doubts sown by House. “You’re right, James. We know what we have.”

Weeks passed, and although House never missed an opportunity to make a pointed comment or cryptic remark, your relationship with James continued to grow stronger. You found comfort in each other, and despite the shadows of the past and James's subtle manipulations, you felt increasingly rooted in this new life.

The moments you shared had become anchors in your daily routine. Whether it was having lunch together, sharing laughter during quiet moments, or finding solace in each other's arms after exhausting days, every instant deepened the bond between you.

And so, despite House’s warnings and the shadows of the past, you found a new reason to live and smile every day. It was quite common for you to dream of James, Blake, and yourself as a family. You promised yourself to nurture your relationship with James for Blake, for the family that should have been.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The sun was barely rising, its first rays filtering through the curtains in James's bedroom. You opened your eyes, feeling the comforting warmth of James's body against yours. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and free from worries and House. You took a moment to watch him, letting a sense of happiness wash over you.

You got up gently so as not to wake him, slipping into one of his oversized t-shirts, and headed to the kitchen. Preparing breakfast had become a sort of ritual. You set water to boil for coffee and began making pancakes, a specialty you had perfected for James. Adding fresh fruit and maple syrup was your way of starting the day on a positive note.

James arrived shortly afterward, drawn by the delicious aromas filling the kitchen. He came up to you, kissed your cheek softly, and murmured a sleepy "good morning."

"Good morning to you," you replied with a smile. "Breakfast is almost ready."

You sat down at the table, enjoying the pancakes and discussing plans for the day. The subject of Blake rarely came up in your conversations, to avoid a constant reminder of the promise you had made to cherish this relationship.

After breakfast, you both got ready to head to the hospital. The drive to Princeton-Plainsboro had become a well-practiced routine, and even though the trip was short, it was filled with discussions and exchanged smiles. At the hospital, you parted ways to join your respective departments, but not without a final quick kiss and a knowing look.

The morning was as busy as ever. Between consultations, diagnostics, and meetings, you threw yourself into your work with the same passion that had driven you since the beginning of your career.

At lunchtime, you met up with James in the cafeteria. House made his usual appearance, throwing out some sarcastic remarks that made everyone smile. Despite his sharp attitude, there was an unspoken respect and camaraderie in his interactions.

“So, lovebirds, how’s the couple life?” House asked, a smirk on his face.

James responded with a similarly playful smile. “Better than your social life, House.”

Exchanges with House had become an integral part of your daily routine, a kind of game to which you had now grown accustomed. After lunch, you returned to your department, your mind still partly occupied by James’s reassuring presence.

The afternoon flew by, marked by consultations and surgeries. But whenever you had a moment of respite, you couldn’t help but think about the promise you had made for Blake.

By the end of the day, exhausted but happy, you met James at the hospital exit. You went home together, discussing the events of the day and sharing your thoughts. Once home, the evening ritual began: a simple yet delicious dinner prepared together, followed by a few hours of relaxation in front of a movie or a series.

That evening, as you sat side by side on the couch, you snuggled up against him, feeling his arm close around your shoulders. The day had been long and tiring, but it ended on a note of tenderness and intimacy.

“You know, James, sometimes I think about what Blake would have wanted for us,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the TV screen.

James tightened his embrace a little, his soft voice responding to your murmur. “He would have wanted us to be happy, Y/N. And I believe he’s watching over us, wherever he is.”

The following weeks were marked by camaraderie and teasing between you and James. Your relationship evolved gently, blending tenderness and playfulness, turning each day into a shared adventure. Beyond the consultations and emergencies, there were these stolen moments where you teased each other, making daily life at the hospital much brighter.

Each morning, your drives to the hospital were filled with little jokes and lively discussions. James particularly enjoyed teasing you about your music choices, and you retaliated by commenting on his sometimes overly bold ties. These light-hearted exchanges allowed you to start the day with a smile.

At the hospital, you found moments to reconnect, whether it was for a quick coffee between consultations or to share an impromptu lunch in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. The exchanged glances, knowing smiles, and discreet yet meaningful touches all reinforced your connection.

House, of course, never missed an opportunity to tease you both gently. One day, while you were having lunch together, he approached with a sly smile on his face.

“So, you two, still playing cat and mouse?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“We prefer to call it chemistry,” you replied with a wink at James.

House raised an eyebrow, amused. “Chemistry, huh? Just be careful not to blow anything up like like Wilson and cheating.”

The following weeks were filled with camaraderie and playful teasing between you and James. Your relationship evolved slowly, mixing tenderness and playfulness, turning each day into a shared adventure. Beyond consultations and emergencies, there were these stolen moments where you teased each other, making daily life at the hospital much brighter.

Each morning, your drives to the hospital were punctuated with little jokes and lively discussions. James particularly enjoyed teasing you about your music choices, and you retaliated by commenting on his sometimes overly bold ties. These light-hearted exchanges allowed you to start the day with a smile.

At the hospital, you found moments to reconnect, whether for a quick coffee between consultations or to share an impromptu lunch in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. The exchanged glances, knowing smiles, and discreet yet meaningful touches all reinforced your connection.

One day, you decided to play a bit more daringly. Having discovered that James had a weakness for chocolate, you prepared a little surprise. You had found some special chocolates infused with aphrodisiac ingredients, and you were curious to see how he would react.

You waited for the right moment, choosing a day when you both had some free time. After lunch, you invited him to stop by your office for a sweet little break.

"I have a surprise for you," you announced, pulling a box of chocolates from your drawer.

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A surprise, huh? I like surprises."

You handed him a chocolate with a mischievous smile. "Try this and tell me what you think."

He took the chocolate, looking curious, and put it in his mouth. From the first bite, you saw his expression change slightly, a glimmer of surprise passing through his eyes.

"It's… interesting," he said as he finished the chocolate. "There's something different about it."

You just smiled, holding back your little secret. A few minutes later, you noticed a subtle change in his behavior. His eyes grew darker, his posture more assured.

"Y/N," he said in a deeper voice, moving closer to you. "What did you give me?"

You laughed softly, taking a small step back. "Just a bit of chocolate. Why? Didn't you like it?"

He stared at you intensely, a half-smile on his lips. "Oh, I loved it. But I think you knew exactly what you were doing."

Before you could respond, he pulled you by the waist and drew you close. His burning gaze never left yours, and you felt your heart race. The weeks of teasing and flirting had led to this moment.

"James, we're in the hospital," you whispered, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"I know," he replied, his voice husky. "But I can't wait any longer."

He kissed you with a new intensity, his hands exploring your back with a possessiveness that made you shiver. You let yourself sink into him, your own desires taking over. The door to his office closed behind you, isolating your little world from the rest of the hospital.

James lifted you and placed you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours. Papers and pens fell to the floor, forgotten. His hands slipped under your blouse, and you felt a shiver of pleasure course through your body.

"You've driven me crazy, Y/N," he murmured against your skin. "And now, you'll face the consequences."

He kissed you briefly, and you wanted more. You opened your mouth, and your tongues met. You felt his hands grip your hips and shift your body on the desk, pulling you closer to him. His tongue explored your mouth as if he, too, enjoyed the blend. He pulled away slightly and looked down at your outfit, which revealed your hardened nipples, due to the passionate kiss and the moisture that had dampened your clothing.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes out before lifting you off the desk, your legs wrapping around his torso. He kisses you again, much more fiercely, as if you were his prey. His tongue battles to dominate yours, and you give in, wanting him to take control. He presses you against the office door and takes the opportunity to ensure it’s locked. He kisses you as if you had always done this and as if it were your last kiss. You moan against his lips as his hand moves between your thighs, massaging them before sliding into your pants and removing your clothing until your panties fall to the floor. You try to close your legs, the cool air hitting your core, while his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck as if he’s devouring every part of you.

His kisses are wet, and you hear him moan before pressing his body against yours, you feel his erection.

"Are you sure ?" He says before completely losing control and he rubs his covered erection against your exposed pussy "mmh", you moan being the only noise you can make to respond and nod at him. He pulls down his pants and boxers at the same time. The shy one, you would have stopped him. He pulls the bottom of your t-shirt up to your chest and his cock brushes against yours making you moan his name.

"Moan my name again. Otherwise I wouldn't give you what you want" and he rubs his cock again between your thighs, his fingers place one of your locks of hair behind your ear, then go down all the way down your body to your clitoris.

“Wet, just for me” and he presses his fingers against my skin a little more before stroking my clit with his thumb. Long ones caresses, giving me pleasure but increasing my impatience. You feel his whole hand between your thighs, his fingers continuing to caress you relentlessly.

“James, please” you moan.

“Fuck” he removes his fingers and thrusts into you, making you moan in surprise and pleasure. The door is locked, and House music prevents everyone from hearing you. He pulls out of you only to come in again, harder, you moan and bury your head in the crook of his neck, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Y/N, I want to feel your hands on me” he moaned before helping you take off his t-shirt and swinging it behind him. He still carries you, he pulls you away from the door and suddenly slams me on top of him, entering me again. The pain in my back and the lust flowing through your veins makes all your sensations stronger. He speeds up his movements and your nails dig into his shoulders. He goes faster and nibbles your skin, in your neck, your chest, anywhere your skin is exposed.

“James, I-I’m going to-” you’re cut off by another moan that leaves your mouth. He understands what you are trying to tell him and growls "Go on princess, I'm waiting for that", you feel your body reach its climax and he gives one last thrust, harder than all the others while his hands massage your thighs.

You sigh in pleasure and release all the tension your body was holding and cum. He doesn't stop moving back and forth and waits for you to finish. You seek his mouth and kiss it, he moans into yours and still doesn't stop, you feel him cum inside you and he parts into your lips to blow.

“Y/N, are you-” he moans again, the sound leaving his mouth and the music turning you on, you grind my hips against his and he moans louder and louder. You have control.

“Y/N – don’t stop” you continue to move your hips and with each movement you sigh in pleasure. You feel him finish completely and he catches his breath heavily his head still in your neck. He slowly pulls out of you and gently places me back on the desk. He quickly puts his boxers back on before putting your panties back on. You get off the desk and put your clothes back on correctly. He stares at you through his loving eyes and smiles viciously before saying "we'll do this again whenever you want but no need for an aphrodisiac" and he winks at me with a kiss on the forehead.

The tension of the past intimacy transforms into a soft and tender atmosphere. You stay embraced for a moment, savoring the warmth of your bodies and the deep connection you’ve just shared. James shifts slightly, looking at you with infinite tenderness.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly, caressing your cheek.

"I feel… good," you reply with a smile, your eyes shining with happiness.

You spend a few more minutes talking softly, your laughter and murmurs blending with the gentle light of the office. But the reality of the hospital eventually catches up with you. James stands up first, helping you to sit up and tidy your clothes.

"We should get back to work," he says with a smile, but his eyes reveal a desire to prolong the moment.

You quickly rearrange yourselves, trying to regain a professional appearance. Once outside the office, you share one last knowing glance before returning to your respective tasks. The day continues, but the excitement and warmth of your intimacy remain with you, giving you renewed energy, knowing that he was going to get his revenge.

#fanfiction #dr house #doctor house #house md #housemd #rsl #robert sean leonard #james wilson #dr james wilson #dr james wilson x reader #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you

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ohthewh0rror · 10 months

Text

YOU TOLERATE IT.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — “hey i love your writing. Can you write a tom riddle x reader with tolerate it by taylor swift”

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I’m starting to realize Tom is perpetually broke in most of the one-shots I write about him, but like, it’s the late 40’s and bro is working in retail while living in the city. My man is not gonna be rolling in money by any means (lmao). Also, let’s act like living together unmarried is cool in the 40’s.

“I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it”

The bitter December winds left you shaking, the cold seeping beneath the layers of your clothes and settling deep into your skin. Winter was never your favorite time of year, it was far too cold and wet for your liking. The only good thing that came out of this wretched month was your lover's birthday, which is what brought you out of your flat and out into this dreary weather.

Tom may not care much about celebrating his birthday, seeing it as just another day of the year, but you always tried to do something special for him anyway. The past three years you had bought a cake and a handful of little gifts, but money was tighter than usual this year, as your hours had been nearly cut in half, leaving the two of you to rely more on Tom’s salary at Borgin and Burkes, so just a single present with no cake would have to suffice this time. To make up for only getting one thing, you decided to get him something special, and it took almost 3 months of saving and cutting corners in certain areas just to save up for the gift you were getting for him.

It was a limited edition book Tom had been eyeing for a while. You weren’t exactly sure what it was on, as Tom wasn’t one to share his work or research with you, but it seemed awfully important to him. So, with the little money you had saved you set out for the day to purchase it. Luckily the store was fairly empty, letting you get in and out quickly, now all that was left was to get home and find the right time to give it to him.

Stepping through the door of your shared flat had never felt like such a relief from the biting cold that was unable to reach you here in the warmth of yours and Tom’s place. You were careful to hang your coat and purse on the appropriate hooks, knowing Tom would ask you to straighten it if it wasn’t placed in the correct spots. You placed the bag containing his gift on the countertop, not bothering to hide it, as you knew Tom wouldn’t ask about it.

While you were happy to see Tom, he didn't seem to share the sentiment as he only spared you a quick glance before going back to reading the documents that sat before him on the table, the work before him apparently far more interesting than you at the moment. You tried not to be disappointed as you walked to him, rounding the table to where he was sitting. You least hoped to receive a ‘hello’ kiss from him, but, as you dipped down to place a kiss on his lips he flinched away from your touch causing you to stop where you were.

You could feel his breath fan across your face as your face hovered close to his, a feeling of hurt spreading through you. Tom must have seen the look on your face because he quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, darling, you took me off guard.”

Meeting you the rest of the way, he gave you a quick kiss, but you were still unsatisfied. His kiss seemed detached, almost impersonal, as if he was doing the action out of obligation and not love. You tried not to think too hard on it as Tom has never been very passionate, but it seemed like lately the love that was once there was being replaced by indifference. You knew every relationship had its ups and downs, but it was still difficult to work through as your presence felt as if it was being merely tolerated instead of sought after.

“Have you eaten lunch yet? I can make us something,” you offered, hoping he’d agree to it, as you couldn’t guarantee he’d be here for dinner and you wanted to give him his present. Tom gave you a simple ‘that’s fine’, before going back to his papers, leaving you to get to work.

As you made lunch you told Tom about your day and other small happenings in your life, just trying to make conversation with him. What Tom was working on must have been important because he was quieter than usual, not giving more than a one or two word answer. “—I mean, can you imagine?” You asked with a giggle drawing your lengthy story to an end, expecting to hear Tom’s amused voice in response.

Instead you were met with the opposite, “come again? I didn’t hear what you said.” Tom sounded unimpressed, making you falter, another wave of disappointment sweeping through you at the fact that he wasn’t listening to a word you said. “It’s nothing, just something silly that happened…” you trailed off at the end, not wanting to even bother finishing your sentence. Tom said nothing, and you didn’t bother saying anything else.

You and Tom sat in silence while you both ate, and though it wasn’t tense, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. At least not to you, who now worried about giving Tom his birthday present. While you shouldn’t be worried about giving it to him, as you knew it was something he actually wanted, you couldn’t help but worry that you’d be met with the same unimpressed response.

You couldn’t just keep the present all night though, and if there was any time to do it, it was now. So, you got out your chair and grabbed the book from the bag it was in off the counter. Walking up to Tom you stopped just before him, causing him to set his fork down and look at you expectantly. You took in a breath before forcing the words out, “Happy 22nd birthday, Tom.” You held the book out to him, and he gently grabbed it from you, reading over the title.

You weren’t sure what you expected. A passionate kiss? A genuine thank you and declaration of love? Or maybe even just a grateful smile? Because what you got was none of that. No, you were met with a strained smile and a small thank you before he went back to eating.

You stood there for a second longer before going back to your seat feeling embarrassed. You saved for so long and put so many of your own wants aside in order to save up for this gift only to get nothing in return. You bit down harshly on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying at how truly unappreciated you felt by him.

Maybe it is time to leave and end things for good, you’re sure he wouldn’t be bothered by the absence of your presence. You could leave and start over, get a new job, a new place and find someone else.

Someone who actually loved and appreciated you.

But as you looked up from your plate and gazed upon his face you knew that you’d never be able to just up and leave. It would only leave you with a heavy ‘what-if’ hanging in the back of your mind. What if you were just overthinking his actions lately and this was just a normal rough patch? What if you hadn’t left? Would it have worked out?

You didn’t want to live with that ‘what if’, you would stay until he forced you away. So you keep quiet about your displeasure and just sit and watch him flip through the book, dreaming of a life where Tom is as madly in love with you as you are with him.

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you

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madomens · 4 months

Text

Apocalypse mini series- Chapter 3

TW: gore(typical zombie gore), p in v unprotected sex, oral(f receiving), DRUNK SEX(all consensual of course)

side note: this is my first time writing smut so if it isn’t the best, yes it is

“There’s no way you guys thought Noah’s card was funnier than mine!” Folio shouts.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his outburst, especially considering the winning card was “zombie apocalypse” and the question was “what has been making life difficult at the nudist colony?”

Everyone has let loose more now that everyone is at least tipsy. You haven’t been able to feel this way in years.. Including how the alcohol makes you feel. Looking back and forth between the four of them, you stop as your eyes land on Noah, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

Would it be so bad if you jump his bones right here right now?

Noah hasn’t given you the attention you’re craving, but him calling you “princess” has made you feel some type of way. Thinking of him using “princess” in a more intimate manner makes you squeeze your thighs together to get a taste of some kind of friction.

With the tequila flowing through your system, you have more confidence. When Noah has to go to the bathroom, you decide this is your chance.

“Now that you mention it, it is time to break the seal,” you giggle, getting up from your spot to follow Noah into the shared bathroom.

Folio gives a questioning look but you chalk it up to having too much to drink and continue walking slightly behind Noah, both of you stumbling a bit.

When Noah starts to leave the bathroom, you stop him. With the tequila coursing through your veins, you speak up again.

“I know this may sound like a crazy idea but I was having some thoughts,” you begin.

Noah raises an eyebrow at you, not sure where this conversation is going. “Yeah?”

You take a shaky breath and decide to just spit it out already.

“I’m drunk, obviously. I assume you’re about as drunk as me,” you have the hardest time making eye contact right now because not only has it been a while, but you’ve never had to initiate sex with anyone. He nods his head slowly, waiting for you to finish.

“I’m sure it’s been a while for you. It definitely has been for me. You’re very attractive to me.” Why is it so hard to just say it?

Noah knows where you’re going but he wants to hear you say it. Eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face let’s you know he just wants you to keep going.

“I think we should hook up,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip a little too hard. “I mean, if you’re down.”

The smirk never leaves his face as he walks slowly toward you and leans down so his mouth is dangerously close to yours. You can smell a hint of tequila and the gum he was chewing earlier.

“Was that so hard princess?” is all he whispers as he brings his lips to yours. The kiss starts out slow but it doesn’t take long for it to become heated, lips crashing together with such need that no one could pull you away if they tried.

Without detaching from each other, you both quickly stumble back into one of the showers. Noah pulls your shirt and bra over your head before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You let out a low moan at the contact and arch your back off of the cold, tiled wall, practically begging for more.

After four years of no intimacy, who wouldn’t beg for more? Leaving your lips, Noah finally decides to give your aching cunt the attention it deserves as he all but rips your shorts and underwear down your legs leaving you completely vulnerable. He sinks to his knees and palms at your exposed breast.

Noah wastes no time wrapping his perfect lips around your clit and sucking harshly, and one of your hands immediately grips his hair as the other holds yourself steady. “You’re so wet for me princess.”

“Fuck, Noah,” you whimper as you rut your hips against his face, legs shaking. His talented tongue draws small circles on your clit and you grip his hair even harder, trying not to cum already. He can sense how close you are so he slips a long, tattooed finger in your pussy and curls just right, sending you over the edge. You moan his name so loudly, you wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the guys can hear you. He wraps an arm around your thigh so you keep your balance as he continues finger fucking you through your orgasm.

You regain your vision a minute later and Noah is in the process of removing all of his clothing, leaving him only wearing a gold chain around his neck. Your mouth waters looking over all of the ink that almost completely covers his perfect body. He walks back over to you and gently grabs your face, kissing you again. You can taste yourself on his mouth and the coil in your belly tightens again, thinking of what’s to come.

“You ready?” He asks gently, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit. You hum and lean your head against the shower wall again, reveling in the feeling.

“Use your words,” he halts his movements on your clit earning a groan in protest from you.

You choke out a quick “please” and he turns your body so you’re facing the shower wall, ass perked up as much as you can and one hand gripping the rail. He teases your entrance rubbing his cock up and down your folds before slowly easing into you with a groan.

The sounds of moaning and skin slapping together are the only things you can hear, the echoes bouncing off the walls of the open room. His pace quickens and he reaches a hand around your waist to rub your clit again. With one hand on the shower rail, you instinctively put your other hand over Noahs to feel his fingers playing with your clit.

The feeling of his cold chain against the top of your back along with his fingers and his cock, you know you can’t hold out much longer, overstimulation hitting you in the best way.

Suddenly the creak of the bathroom door rings out as Matt steps in, not anticipating what’s going on in the shower of the shared bathroom. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” can be heard before the door opens and closes once again. You aren’t sure if it’s because it’s been so long or if you’re both just really in the moment, but neither of you showed any signs of slowing down. Noah lets out a slight chuckle and continues his thrusts. You can feel him getting sloppier and his fingers losing the rhythm they carried and you can tell he’s close.

You push your ass up a little more and it gives his cock perfect access to your sweet spot, causing a second orgasm to rush through you, clouding your vision once again. Your cunt tightens around him and he let’s out a string of curses as he pulls out and cums on your ass just as you start coming down from your high.

“Holy shit,” Noah breathes out, eyes still closed.

When both of you finally catch your breath, you decide it’s probably a good time to shower. Much to your surprise, Noah cleans you up and even washes your hair for you before taking care of himself. Not much is said while you get cleaned up but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you mind.

“I do have to wonder why you decided to ask me. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad you did, but you haven’t shown any interest in me since we brought you here,” Noah finally breaks the silence as he pulls his plain black t shirt over his head.

You nibble on your lip for a second, not really having an answer. “I don’t actually have a good answer to that. Something in me just told me to go for it. There’s something about you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

He chuckles at your confession, turning to face you again. Instead of giving his own input, he just replies with, “ Well you finally got to meet Matt.”

Your face turns a bright red as he reminds you that you haven’t in fact, been introduced to Matt and his first impression of you is seeing you getting railed in the shower by one of his friends. “Oh fuck me,” is all you can say.

“Again already, princess?” He smiles a genuine smile and you could melt into a puddle right then and there. It’s hard to tell if you would have liked him if it wasn’t for the end of the world. You’ve always been more into guys who dress like they’re about to go to a business meeting, and this is for sure not him. But there’s just something about the way Noah carries himself that you can’t seem to stop thinking about, and the fact that he’s one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever laid eyes on. There’s something about a man who is so unapologetically themselves that’s such a huge turn on.

You choose to ignore his comment and decide now was the best time to introduce yourself to Matt before the liquor starts wearing off more than it already has. Maybe one more shot first?

Walking back up to the guys, all of their eyes land on you and Noah, each with a hidden smile on their faces, apart from Folio. You finally see Matt, who looks nearly the same as the rest of the guys; straight out of Hot Topic.

A blush returns to your cheeks as you try to hide your face with your long, wet hair.

“Don’t be shy now. I’ve already seen everything you have to offer,” a new voice sounds. You start to think maybe going outside in the middle of a zombie apocalypse would be better than this conversation. You look up, slightly moving your hair out of your face to see Matt with a huge smile on his face. “I’m Matt. You must be y/n I’m guessing.” You give a tight lipped smile in response.

Folio doesn’t look up from his drink during the entirety of the conversation, you notice. Jolly and Nicholas don’t say anything, but the looks on their faces tell you everything you need to know.

Noah walks to Matt and gives him a hug, asking him where he’s been, as if he didn’t just see him pounding into you relentlessly.

“Just needed to chill out for a few hours.I Thought I would come back and get a shower but it was occupied,” he lets out a laugh. At least he isn’t mad about it like you assumed he would be. You take your spot back at the long plastic table and chug the rest of your drink, trying to forget this ever happened. You pick up your cards and pretend to read them over while Noah and Matt converse about the days happenings.

“So,” Jolly starts. “You’ve met Matt now.” You look up from your cards to give Jolly a quick smile and hum lowly.

Folio clears his throat and stands up from the table, stumbling a little as he starts walking toward the furniture store. “I don’t think I can hang anymore, guys. I think I’ll just call it a night.”

Everyone says their goodnights to Folio before he retreats to his own bed.

“Is he okay?” You nudge Nicholas with your elbow to get his attention.

He looks at you in the middle of stacking the black cards together to put the game away. “Oh yeah he’s fine. He’s an early bird most of the time,” he shrugs it off.

You start helping Nick by grabbing all of the white cards you can see and stacking them together.

After everything is back in the box, everyone hangs out for another 30 minutes or so before it’s time for everyone to go to bed. You and Noah hang back for a minute at his request and your first thought is he’s about to tell you that should have never happened and he regrets it.

Instead, he pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips. “I think we should make this a thing,” he smiles slyly. You furrow your eyebrows and nod your head slowly. How could you possibly say no to the best sex you’ve ever had?

“I think we should. But I also think we shouldn’t continue if either of us starts catching feelings. This is the end of the world; I couldn’t let feelings get in the way of my safety and neither should you,” you point out.

He agrees wholeheartedly and both of you return to the bedroom for much needed rest, in your own separate beds of course.

Waking up before the other guys, you decide this is the best time to get a quick shower. You grab your clothes and a new towel and hit the shower, letting the hot water relax your tired muscles. You, Noah, Nicholas, and Matt are going by the cabin you were staying in to get the rest of your supplies today so you’re probably getting two showers today. You aren’t complaining, because GOD have you missed showers.

“There you are,” Noah smiles as you walk back into the bedroom. You give him a small smile in return and throw your hair up in a bun since you’ll be going out today.

“Do you know when we’re heading to the cabin?” You question right as Folio walks into the room.

He strides across the room to grab his fishing gear and mutters a quick “hey” before walking out.

“Uh it shouldn’t be too long. Matt and Nicholas are getting a few things ready for the road. I’ll go check in a second,” he walks closer to you and you freeze for a minute. He grabs a piece of hair you missed and wraps it around your bun, letting his hand linger on your cheek for a few seconds. Even the smallest touch was enough to make you shiver.

“Thanks,” you respond, blushing again. He walks away to see how Matt and Nicholas are doing, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s about an hour walk to the cabin you were staying in so you all packed plenty of supplies for the walk. Halfway there, you stumble onto a small horde, around thirty zombies. Thankfully, there are four of you so taking out thirty dead ones wouldn’t be too difficult. You notice one of them sneaking up behind Nicholas as he’s busy killing the ones in front of him, so you act quickly. Right before it’s about to bite him, you quickly finish off the one you were working on and rush to stab the monster in the head.

Nicholas turns swiftly, nodding a thank you for saving his life before getting back to finishing off the few in front of him. After killing all of the zombies and making sure there aren’t any strays, Nicholas pulls you in for a hug.

“Thank you for saving my ass back there. I owe you one,” he gushes.

You pull away and wipe your knife on the leg of your pants. “Don’t mention it. We really should start looking for a vehicle so we can worry less about this kind of thing.”

“Everyone okay?” Matt asks, checking for bites and scratches on his arms. Everyone checks themselves and after seeing that no one was hurt, continues on to the cabin.

You finally make it there after what feels like a year later. In a weird way, you kind of missed being there. Being alone wasn’t always the best but you didn’t have to worry about other living people and their feelings as well as your own. The makeshift bed you made is untouched and everything looks exactly the way you left it. Nicholas and Matt get to work gathering the remaining food, water, and medicine while you have your own mission.

You grab the baby blue blanket off of the bed admiring it for a minute. The once soft material has turned into a scratchy, coarse piece of fabric. It belonged to your dog, Taz, who you lost at the beginning of the apocalypse and it’s all you have left of him. Most people would probably not bother coming back for a silly little blanket but Taz was everything to you. He was all you really had for years so when you lost him, it turned your world upside down all over again.

Noah notices your red, watery eyes and walks up beside you putting his long arm around your shoulder. “You okay princess?”

You snap out of your thoughts and wipe your eyes quickly responding with “yeah, sorry.” He gets a feeling that you don’t really want to talk about it so he doesn’t push you any farther, just rubbing your shoulder with his tattooed hands.

Nicholas and Matt basically did all the work themselves while Noah was busy looking through the books on the old bookcase in case he found one he hasn’t read yet. They don’t really mind, afterall, free food and water so who can complain?

The walk back to the mall isn’t nearly as bad as before and for that, all four of you are grateful. Being covered in blood and guts isn’t exactly the way you like to spend your time but this is the world now. It’s better than being one of those things chewing on people like they’re nothing.

Back at the mall, Folio and Jolly have their catches of the day laid out on the ‘Chik-fil-a’ counter in the food court. They definitely had some luck out there because not only are there around 15 decently sized fish, there is also a deer they must have gotten to before the zombies did. Do any of these guys even know how to skin a deer? If anyone, you’d think it would be Folio since he seems to have the most knowledge in these types of things.

Staying at the cabin on your own for so long, you taught yourself how to skin smaller animals like rabbits and squirrels, but never game as big as deer.

Matt and Nicholas take turns high fiving Folio and Jolly, who look very pleased with themselves. You decide to take your second shower of the day to get the blood and dirt off of you, but not before Noah invites himself to shower with you.

“Room for one more?” He asks slyly with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Even covered head to toe in blood that isn’t his, he’s still so beautiful.

You nod and move over slightly so he can get into the shower with you and he immediately starts washing your back. You can’t help but wonder who will be the first to catch feelings with him doing sweet things for you mindlessly. Probably you.

After both of you are clear of any more blood on your bodies, you turn to face him to see him already looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. His smile is intoxicating and as much as you hate to admit it, you may have already started catching feelings in the short amount of time you’ve been around him. He leans down to kiss you in the gentlest way possible, making you weak in the knees. There isn’t any rush to this kiss unlike the one you shared the last time you were in this position. This one was slow and sweet. You could taste the faint mint from his toothpaste as he slipped his tongue into your mouth causing you to let out a low moan.

“We should probably let everyone else shower,” you state as soon as you pull away from his kiss. As much as you want him to throw you against the wall, you’re sure Nicholas and Matt are uncomfortable sitting around smelling like yesterday's ass.

“Jeez took you long enough,” Nicholas teases as you and Noah finally walk back out to the hangout area. “Matt was scared to go in there again.”

Noah laughs and playfully shoves Nicholas. “Don’t worry, it was just a shower. Conserving water,” he winks and turns to smile at you.

You walk over to where Folio is preparing the fish him and Jolly caught earlier. “Need some help?” You ask, startling him. “I’ve gotten pretty good at skinning smaller animals but it can’t be too different from a deer, right?”

“Sure,” he replies after a few seconds and smiles one of his toothy smiles you haven’t seen in a few days. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.”

anywayyy lmk what you think

love u❤️❤️

Last Chapter

#bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #nick folio #nicholas ruffilo #joakim jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson #matt dierkes #noah sebastian smut

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justghoulythingz · 5 months

Text

i want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you…

a drabble for anonymous taken from this prompt list.

pairing : ghoul/lucy maclean

word count : 846

warnings : some good old fashioned self-loathing, rope to restrain, mentions of sex. 18+, mdni

divider credit

It’s been centuries since Cooper Howard has gotten this involved with anyone.

He’s a bit like a stunted foal: clumsy yet reluctant to admit it; so used to being somewhere dark and grisly and detached that when the sun hitched to Lucy MacLean shines, it burns his irreversibly damaged skin. Gives it a kind of glow that he has to kill every time it threatens to bloom.

Self-inflicted wounds are easier to nurse. What’s the point of watering the dead garden his innards are overgrown with?

He winces when she touches him. That’s why her wrists need to be kept bound when he explores her. So she can’t feel how much she affects him. So she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

This ain’t love. Not that she has much experience with the romantic variety. He’s got plenty to keep close to the chest.

He gave himself to his Barb and she trampled him so far into the dirt that he might has well have been buried that fateful day.

The consequential marks don’t seem to bother Lucy. She’s a curious sort. One of the things Cooper admires about her. In the same breath, however, he doesn’t mind if for once she’d give it a proper fucking rest.

She moves too fast for him. He’s not entirely certain he wanted to budge in the first place.

Here she is with his face entombed in her neck, kissing and licking and nibbling as she opens herself to him. Thinking about how he would drag his nose along the slopes and valleys that comprise her if he could. How she deserves a man who’s whole and not whatever husk was violently spat out.

He can plainly see she yearns to reciprocate. Restless energy makes her grit her teeth and clench her thighs, squirming about as he gets to roam free. A low, long-winded hiss manages to escape between the soft, swollen lips he’s already branded.

“Tell me what y’want, angel wings. Use your big girl words. Y’had no trouble up t’this point.” He smiles against her throat, keeping her body caged. His voice cuts through like a saw hacking down a tree. Chop chop chop. Devastation as it crashes to the ground.

She sighs heavily and attempts to fix her posture. He’s very skilled at distracting. It’s not lost on her that he does so on purpose.

“Can you look at me first, Cooper?” she asks, chest heaving. He wonders how their hearts would feel galloping together. He doesn’t take his clothes off for her.

Some days, he wants to.

“Alright,” he begins, angling himself backward and resting one palm on the wall above her head. He can humor her. “I’m lookin’.”

And boy does he look. How can one not, with those doe eyes, large and all-encompassing like a lush forest of green and brown and gold?

His expression takes on that of a predator’s honing in on its prey. Except she’s taken hold of his hide and shredded it until it’s all mangled and indistinguishable. He feigns he has the upper hand. He feigns many things.

Lucy utilizes a few more moments to compose herself. Logic has been replaced with emotion. That requires a different type of effort to navigate.

Normally he would hurry her along, he don’t got all day. But really, he does. Why not spend it admiring a work of unabashed art that spawned from, according to him, the depths of hell?

“As much as I enjoy you getting your excess of me, I feel…” She exhales, shaky. “I feel like that excess has snatched away my enjoyment of you. I, I feel incomplete. It’s not as satisfactory as I know it could be.”

The old, tattered cowboy doesn’t answer. It’s difficult to swallow. She is expectant, but she’s also learned to lower said expectations when it comes to him. So she carries on of her own accord.

“What I want, Cooper, is you. All of you. I’m not satisfied with this half-baked sex we’ve been having. I want to pleasure you. Have you gasping for air and unable to think clearly.”

If she only knew.

“I want you to orgasm in my vagina and mouth and hand and, and wherever else, I don’t care! Except that’s really not true. I do care. I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you. And I want you in all the ways you haven’t let me have you. That’s what I want.”

She’s so technical sometimes that it usually makes him roll his eyes or laugh. Now, he doesn’t do either.

Instead, he grasps her chin and tilts it upward. He shoots her one last isolated once-over and seals their fate with a fervent kiss. The hand once above her travels below and deftly releases her from her binds. The rope falls to the dusty floor with a resounding thud.

“Best get t’work then,” Cooper murmurs against her cushioned mouth. Like a warm, forgiving blanket waiting to surround him, even after being away from home for months, years.

“‘Fore I change my mind.”

#ghoul #the ghoul #cooper howard #lucy maclean #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #ghoul x lucy #lucy x ghoul #fallout #walton goggins #ella purnell #drabble #prompt #i want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you #my writing #first foray into this fandom! i hope you enjoy! thank you so much for requesting and reading 🥹🥰

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atlasscrumpit · 1 year

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Medication

You held Layla’s hand in yours as you helped her get up the stairs to your apartment.

The entire walk home from daycare she hadn’t stopped talking, but you loved every second of it. You got up to your apartment and opened the door and let Layla inside.

You saw Miguel sitting on the couch and just by his face you could tell something was wrong.

"Where the fuck were you?" Growled as you knelt beside Layla.

"You remember what mommy said to do when daddy isn't feeling well?" You asked as she nodded.

"Go in my room and watch my shows on my ipad." She said as you smiled.

"Exactly, love. Get some snacks from the kitchen then go to your room okay, sweetheart?" You said as she smiled happily and ran off.

You waited until she was in her room with the door closed until you spoke.

"I was picking Layla up from Daycare, love." You said as he chuckled coldly.

"We both know you're using that little bitch as an excuse." He said as you took a deep breath, you knew you didn't mean that.

"Did you take your medication this morning?" You asked as he stood up and towered over you.

"Hmm? You mean those pills you force me to take? The ones that make me nice and fucking obedient for you?" He growled backing you against the door.

"Darling, that's not what they are. It's okay, I promise you that you're safe okay?" You replied before he slammed his hand close to the door making you jump.

"Go take care of your fucking kid, I'm going out." He growled before pushing you off the door and walking out.

You sighed a little and let him leave before you called up his doctor incase it got too serious.

You explain to him what was happening and you had all the numbers ready incase Miguel got violent, the main thing you needed to do was get him to take his pills.

Luckily he had his phone with him and you could track it and make sure he wasn't in danger anywhere.

Miguel didn't come home for a while but luckily when he did Layla was asleep in bed.

You heard the door open and looked up to see Miguel entering, he looked very confused.

"Layla? Where is she?" He whispered as you stood up and gently took his hand.

"Hey, it's okay. Layla's safe she's just sleeping." You said as he looked at you and shook his head.

"You're trying to take her away from me aren't you?" He muttered as you led him to sit next to you on the couch.

You made sure to hold onto his hand, you ran your hand over his wedding ring.

"See this, love?" You whispered before showing your ring to him.

"I'm your wife." You said as he looked at you in confusion.

"What's happening to me?" He whispered with tears in his eyes.

You hated to see him like this, completely lost and scared.

"You're just having an episode, sweetheart. For some reason you must not have taken your medication this morning." You explained as he looked down at your intertwined hands.

"Why do I have to take medication?" He asked as you offered him a soft smile.

"It helps with your mind, sometimes if you don't take them your mind can see and think things that aren't real. You tend to get paranoid and detached from me and Layla." You replied as he nodded a little.

"Did I hurt you?" He whispered as you smiled and shook your head.

"No, not at all. But, I need you to take the medication, okay? Is that alright, baby?" You asked as he nodded.

You got up and grabbed his medication before returning with water and his pills.

You handed them to him and he thankfully took them.

You sat beside him again and rested your hand on his leg.

"It's not fair... It's not fair that I have to rely on these to not be a monster." He whispered as he began to cry, you looked at him sadly and pulled him to lay on your chest while you stroked your hands through his hair.

"Shh, it's okay. I know it's hard, love. But, you're far from a monster. You have an illness and it makes life difficult and having to be on these pills the rest of your life doesn't feel right. But, these medications help you and they help us too, they help stabilise everything. I know your mind is afraid right now but I promise Layla and I love you so so fucking much and would never think of you as weak for any of this." You whispered as he cried into your chest and you cradled him.

"Mommy? Is daddy better now?" You heard Layla say as you looked to see her clutching her teddy and looking at you both.

Miguel looked at her and smiled.

"Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's all better now, do you want to come sleep with mommy and daddy?" He asked as she smiled and ran up to him and practically crawled into his arms making you chuckle softly.

He carried her to your shared room and you climbed in beside her, Miguel got in as well and you all huddled together with Layla still hugging her teddy but making sure she was as close as possible to the both of you.

Miguel looked at you in the soft light.

"I love you both so much." He whispered as you smiled and felt tears in your eyes.

"Teddy loves you too." Layla muttered sleepily making you chuckle.

"We all love you very much, love."

#Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x reader #across the spider verse

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win-writes · 2 years

Text

𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘦

༶ contains: fluff, overwhelmed!jouno, jouno using mobility cane, established relationship

༶ word count: 0.8k

༶ a/n: based on this post that got way more attention than i thought! i feel like jouno's disability isn't talked about enough throughout the manga, so I'm trying my best to make up for it! always open to constructive criticism by anyone who can help me be more accurate when writing for jouno

To say working as a Hunting Dog isn't easy, would be an understatement. Especially for the man who depends on his sharp hearing to make up for his lost vision. Sure, it comes really handy when it comes to interrogations or investigations, but it's times like this very moment when Jouno feels as if he's no different than an average human being with the same disability as his.

After a tiring week full of missions, Jouno finally has the chance to spend some time with his dear darling. Your date at your favorite café filled your heart with so much joy and warmth that only he could bring you. Of course, the same goes for him.

On your way home, unfortunately for your boyfriend, the streets are relatively busy. Countless cars passing by, crowds chattering, loud music from the local shops. Smoking cigarettes, a plethora of perfumes and scents. All kinds of sounds and smells attack Jouno's senses, making it difficult for him to navigate on his own.

"Baby, are you sure you're okay?" your voice is filled with worry for your partner, who can't seem to be able to hide how overwhelmed his surroundings make him feel. He gives you one of his soft genuine smiles "Yes my love. I'm just tired, that's all"

You may not have the ability to hear his breathing, but you know Jouno like the back of your hand, you don't need to put much effort to tell he's lying "It's alright" you caress his back ever so softly and Jouno swears he can feel his heart melt at your loving touch "do you need help?"

Much to his displeasure, Jouno knows he can't take more than two steps forward with the amount of information he has to process to do such a simple thing like walking home. He simply nods his head to you, too proud to admit out loud that he indeed needs guidance to continue.

You detach your hand away from his back to reach out for your bag. The loss of contact forces Jouno's hand to subconsciously tug on your arm, ensuring you are right next to him "I'm right here baby" a simple sentence like this is enough to cancel every backround noise for a moment and fill Jouno's ears with nothing but your lovely voice.

You're quick to take out his cane, carefully unwrapping it before handing it to him "There you go my love" Jouno lets out a quiet sigh before taking his cane in his hand. You don't fail to notice the change in his expression, his sad closed eyelids, his smile turning into a thin line and his head slightly titling down.

You know how stubborn your boyfriend is and how he easily lets his pride get the best of him at times. Combined to how exhausted he is right now, it's only natural for him to feel self conscious about his current public presentation.

You gently wrap your arm around his own "It's okay" you whisper before placing a kiss on his cheek "Are you ready to go my love?"

A wave of sharply edged euphoria washes over him at your affections. His smile slowly takes its place back on his lips, before turning his face to your side "Of course angel"

With your arms perfectly linked together and the assistance of his tool, you successfully make it pass the sea of people, steadily gaining distance from the lively street. Throughout the whole way, Jouno felt his heart skipping numerous beats every time your delicate fingers drew random patterns on his limb. Normally he would tease you for being so openly affectionate, but today he couldn't help but just let himself enjoy your warmth and love for as long as he possibly can.

At last, the noise eases and the fog inside jouno's mind finally clears away. He sighs with a smile on his face, relieved that the world around him finally starts making sense again.

"Feeling better?"

His arm that was previously wrapped by your hand now moves to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You giggle at the way your noses brush against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure to his entire body.

Jouno could never imagine himself being so vulnerable around anyone. Throughout his whole life, he had to live in constant alert to danger; both as a criminal executive and as a hunting dog. Never once in his life did he believe someone as pure as you would take him in and shower him with so much love to finally allow him to have his moments of weakness.

"Much better"

He whispers before capturing your lips into a sweet kiss, thanking his lucky stars for sending him an angel like yourself to lighten up his days and helping him escape the darkness that surrounds him when he needs it the most.

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modevernon · 11 months

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rainy days # chwe vernon

pairing: vernon x gn!reader genre: f2l, comfort warnings: cursing, mentions of food word count: 1.25k

ever since autumn fell into your hands like a stale, unwanted gift, vernon had been acting strange. well. ‘strange’ was difficult to define. vernon was, by nature, pretty strange.

rather, he ceased to act in his normal, strange way, and that was what bothered you — where were the out-of-the-blue “fried chicken, my place, shrek” text invites? where had those gone? where were the absurd, vine-reminiscent tiktoks and goofy screenshots of infinite challenge? where were the multitude of beanies strewn across your house? where, and when had he taken them back? where was he?

yes, seasonal depression existed. but he had explicitly told you, as you were munching on a cinnamon roll for breakfast three months ago, that fall was his favorite season. and yes, you two had only started hanging out this year, so it wasn’t as if your friendship had ever been set in stone. but even so, you didn’t deserve to be ghosted, or slowly distanced from until he had erased you from his life.

and yet, you could pinpoint the day, the moment, the very conversation during which his demeanor shifted so precisely that you figured something must have gone wrong then, and maybe it was your fault.

so you ran back the dialogue to the best of your recollection: it had been a rainy saturday, the kind of humidity that simply begged you to stay inside, and vernon had been making cold hot chocolate (“so… chocolate milk?” “no, you don’t see the vision!”) as you drafted emails at your desk.

when he completed his little concoction and entered your room with a mug of it, you were enjoying a self-proclaimed break, perched on the edge of the table, scrolling through instagram.

“bro, you have to see this,” you called to him casually, hearing his footsteps approach.

he did approach — slowly. stopping before you, he placed the mug on the table. “am i your bro now?”

eyes still glued to your phone, you knocked jokingly at his arm. “sorry.”

after a beat, you looked up, as if finally absorbing all of what had been said so far. “wait.” vernon gazed back at you patiently. “you’ve never complained about that.”

he opened his mouth slightly, some unforeseeable sentence at the tip of his tongue, then closed it and glanced away. “yeah, well,” and he took a step back, “never said i was complaining.”

then you had taken a sip from the mug, and said to him that it tasted just like chocolate milk, but lukewarm, and he had laughed softly without a rebuttal, and you had showed him the instagram story you had found funny, and he had laughed again without comment, and half an hour later he had left from your apartment and the rain had kept falling and everything had seemed eerily quiet. the end.

except it wasn’t the end — it couldn’t be the end, when vernon’s pretty little face was all you could think about even as weeks, months passed without his presence.

today, you were feeling especially fed up, inhaling a cinnamon roll from the same café you’d visited with vernon in the heat of summer. it was suspiciously warm for late october, as if the weather was actively forcing you to reminisce, and it stayed warm until the sun slipped down and suddenly it was cruelly, unbearably cold — and rainy. wrapped up in blankets, you stirred your (real) hot chocolate, watched the downpour vandalize your windows, and wondered what to do with your fraught, ambivalent heart.

vernon was surprised to get a call past midnight, and more surprised that he was on his phone at the exact minute to pick up. he swiped right, forgetting to read the contact.

“hello?” he spoke first.

“hey.” vernon could tell by one syllable that it was you. he checked the screen to confirm anyway. you continued, voice inexplicable: “what’ve you been up to?”

first question, and he was already feeling guilty. “work,” he replied, with faux detachment, “kinda tiring.”

“tiring?”

“mm-hmm.”

“busier than usual?” your tone was veering from innocent to interrogative.

“yeah, you could say that.” what excuse could he give that wasn’t the reason?

“you still could’ve kept in touch, you know,” you hit back. quiet on the other end of the line. “i had to watch bottoms without you.”

“oh, that’s a great movie,” vernon blurted, then immediately regretted.

he could almost see your eyes narrow. “so you watched it on your own?”

“… yeah. on my own.”

you let his response hang embarrassingly in silence. after a beat — “do you have anything to tell me, hansol?”

oh. hansol. shit was getting real; but vernon tried to dodge the fact. “do you have anything to tell me?”

“stop acting cheeky. it’s not cute.”

“no, i’m serious. you must’ve called to say something.”

“i can’t just call to say hi?”

“that’s what you wanted to say? hi?” the words came out far more acerbic than he had intended.

and for the first time, your voice faltered. “didn’t… didn’t you miss me?”

to answer that would be to burst a dam. he felt no choice but to fall back on old tricks. “did you miss me?”

you huffed. vernon knew he was pushing your limit, but it was all he could do. now it was quiet on your end, and he was contemplating a better way to weasel out of this when the bell of his apartment abruptly rang.

perfect. “um— hey, so sorry to cut this short, but i just— there’s a friend coming over, they’re at the door—” and he walked hastily toward it. “we can talk later.” and he hung up before you had the time to reply, simultaneously opening the door to find you, drenched, no umbrella in sight, staring daggers into him.

he was so stunned that he couldn’t exclaim. you kept staring until you grew tired of it, and blinked away. with your hair dripping so much, it was impossible to tell whether your face was wet with tears or rain.

just as vernon began to take up his hand to wipe your cheek, you spoke again. “really hard fucking way to get me to ask you out.”

his hand froze. to what? “of course i missed you, hansol. i missed you so much, i couldn't do anything else. i missed you so much, i ran here while it was pouring, and you know i hate going outside when it's like this. i missed you so much, it’s been driving me insane! what the hell did i do that was so wrong?” your voice was breaking, fracturing. “can’t you tell me?”

the way vernon stood made him look like a film on pause. only his eyes trembled, ever so slightly, drinking you in with excruciating care because heaven knows how much he missed you too.

before he could think of what to say back, his body moved reflexively into yours, arms wrapped around you, head buried in your neck. you were so cold against him, so tense with emotion that his embrace left you melting.

“i thought you didn’t want me,” he breathed, still enveloped in you, “the way i wanted you.”

you sighed, somewhere between relief and exasperation. “why would you assume that, idiot?” it wasn’t really a question. “someone who’s usually so slow to act.”

at that comment, vernon peeled — slowly — away from you to face you again. “i’ll be fast this time,” he vowed, and you tilted your head in puzzlement. “you’re asking me out? my answer is yes.”

a/n: excuse my like two month hiatus. kung chi pak chi summoned me back.

#seventeen vernon #svt vernon #chwe vernon #chwe hansol #vernon #vernon x reader #vernon comfort #vernon fic #vernon imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader

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babyblue711 · 1 year

Text

Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 1/Part 2 Summary: You and Will reconnect after spending some time apart and learn that each of you has gone through their own difficult circumstances in those years. Your friendship develops into something more as you help each other heal from the past. Words: 5.3K

Warnings: NSFW, language, sexual content (18+), mild BDSM (part 2), miscarriage, prison, divorce, infidelity, alcohol, mention of death A/N: This is my first attempt at fan-fiction ever, so please be kind. Thank you to my incredible beta readers for their expertise @megatardisbaby and @arcielee; your enthusiasm kept pushing me to continue writing this. And thank you to @myfandomprompts for encouraging me to start writing in the first place and for your amazing gifs. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk through the parking lot and a warm summer breeze blows through your hair. The air shimmers with a sense of unreality, a blur of colors and images that swirl around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar sight. You turn and realize you are looking at the back of your old black Jeep Wrangler. You know it’s yours because of the custom California license plate MRS M 97. You want to scoff just looking at the plate, a wave of unease floods you, and confusion tugs at the back of your mind. How did it get here? You had left it behind as you had left everything else behind when you broke free from your cheating ex-husband. Your gaze lingers on the car for a moment.

“Well, ‘elo, love,” a soft voice teases in your ear. You whirl to see an old friend standing before you. Your brain feels like quicksand as you try to make sense of his mirage-like presence; you aren’t even sure he is real. You hadn’t seen him in years, but when you look at him, it feels like yesterday. You puzzle at him, bemused by his attire. He’s wearing a grey hoodie under a black bomber jacket, joggers, and his typical black Adidas trainers. Very warm clothes for such a hot summer’s day. He’s tall, lean, and angular just as you remembered.

His lips curve into a cocky smirk, while simultaneously exuding a sort of shy, quiet confidence. The merriment in his eyes slowly fading only to be replaced by something else. He suddenly grows serious, a haunted look in his deep blue eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t want you to go,” he says unexpectedly.

Your eyebrows knit together, not understanding what he means. Go? You think to yourself. Colors swirl, the glare from the sun seems to become blindingly bright but he’s the only thing that remains a sharp, clear image. You start to open your mouth to ask how he got there, when he suddenly steps towards you, crowding into your space. Your sense of reality is almost detached, like you are watching yourself from the sidelines. He looks down at you intensely as if making a decision.

His eyes snap to yours. He presses his lips together as he raises his hands and lightly gives your shoulders a slight shove. Off balance, you fall backwards onto your Jeep. Your back hits the hard surface of the spare tire, bruising your spine but you don’t feel any pain. You huff out a breath and his lips are suddenly on yours, you tangle your hands into this hair as if it's the most natural thing to do, his body presses you firmly against the back of your car. You aren’t sure how things have escalated so quickly but realize you don’t care. You wanted more.

“Oh.…Will,” you sigh into his mouth.

The sound of your alarm suddenly jolts you awake.

You shut it off with a groan and close your eyes again, hoping for more sleep. As your subconscious starts to drift off, you see Will’s face drift through your mind and your eyes snap open again, your heart jumps. Did you really just dream about making out with a childhood friend, let alone someone you hadn’t seen in years? What the hell?

You curse your brain for bringing up the past, mentally shaking your head as the memories flood you. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being back home that had conjured him up in your dreams. The last you had heard of Will was him being sent to prison. You didn’t know what became of him and you doubted you’d ever see him again.

You continue to lay in bed as your heartbeat returns to normal. The image of your old car, a gift from your ex-husband for your birthday one year, floats in your mind and gives you another jolt. You cringe inwardly at the bad memories it brought back of the life you used to have...before everything fell apart.

With a sigh, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and gaze out the window. The view from your childhood bedroom felt so familiar, yet so suffocating. It had been years since you left this place, seeking adventure and a sense of independence. After uni, you spent some time traveling and living abroad. While you were in America, you met, fell in love, and married the perfect man. You loved how easy your relationship was - memories of laying in bed together, giggling over silly TikTok videos or sharing stories of your childhood; he was your best friend, your confidante. He was warm, caring, and compassionate...until he wasn't.

For a few years, you were happy; you both had great jobs, you bought a home and settled in California where his tech company was located. Then, as is the natural progression of any married couple, you tried for a family and quickly learned the hard way that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. Each miscarriage that you suffered began to take its toll on you mentally, emotionally and physically. You became a shell of the person you once were, haunted by the immeasurable grief of your losses.

Your perfect marriage took a nosedive. He tried to be supportive but you just felt as if he blamed you. The final nail in the coffin was when you caught him cheating with his secretary. You knew at that moment that your marriage was broken beyond repair.

Unbearably heartbroken, you left him and everything behind in California. You fled back home to the UK and wished with every fiber of your being that you could just leave your old life behind in America. That the ocean between the two countries would swallow up your pain so that you couldn’t bring it with you.

Your parents were loving and supportive and had welcomed you back home with open arms, but you sunk into a deep depression. Your anxiety was so bad that anything that reminded you of your ex would make your heart race in fear; you couldn’t look at anything related to babies or children without wanting to vomit. Every breath you took felt like it cost you everything just to inflate your lungs, the weight of your grief felt like it was crushing you. You longed to escape the suffocating grip of your emotions but felt trapped, caught between the life you had lost and the uncertainty of the future.

Eventually though, you slowly began to heal. Every day, you put energy into rebuilding the life you had before you met him. You still couldn't recognize who you had become whenever you looked into the mirror, hating the feeling that you were back at square one, that you had made no actual progress with your life. You would forever be scarred by the events of the past, but you finally started putting one foot in front of the other again.

You got a job you mostly enjoy and your day now begins with a sigh as you start to get ready for work. You were traveling into Nottingham to run a small errand for the company you worked for and was glad for a change of scenery beyond the four walls of your dreary office cubicle. You change into a royal blue sundress, attempt to fix your hair and apply a little bit of makeup. You take a deep breath as you look at your reflection in the mirror and promise yourself that today was going to be a better day. After saying a hasty goodbye to your parents, you leave to catch the train into the city.

Finishing up work early, you step out from the office building. For once, the rays of warm sunshine seem to lift your mood. Feeling lighter, you decide you are not ready to return to the monotony of home life just yet. Retracing your steps, as you had done many times in your youth, you venture up the cobbled path of Stoney Street, the bustle and charm of the city making you feel a little more alive. Nostalgia swirls through you in waves as you realize so much had remained the same since you’d been gone, yet it felt like everything had changed.

To your left and right was a colorful array of independent shops that lined the street, their inviting storefronts displaying an assortment of wares. The sunshine seems to brighten everyone’s mood as laughter and animated conversations spill out from cozy pubs and lively cafes, creating an ambiance of warmth and camaraderie. As you walk down the street, you admire the cute coffee shops, stylish boutiques, and quaint bookshops passed along the way.

Although you considered yourself “well-traveled” by now, you can’t help but smile at how charming Nottingham truly was. Centuries-old architecture, with its intricate detailing and timeless beauty, stood side by side with modern storefronts, old and new melting together harmoniously.

You didn’t intend to stop anywhere, but your eye catches sight of an old favourite haunt of yours during your school days. You reach for the door handle of The Lace Market Fish Bar, deciding you were hungry for a snack. The door swings open and you almost run headlong into a familiar face. A bolt of electricity courses through you as you realize your dream has spilled into reality.

“Oh, sorry,” Will mutters absentmindedly as you instinctively retreat a few paces. His gaze sweeps over you and it’s evident he doesn’t immediately recognize you. You hold your breath, unsure if you should say anything.

Suddenly, recognition flickers in his eyes. “Wow, hey, Y/N,” he blinks rapidly, completely caught off guard. “Never expected to see you ‘round here again. Thought you moved away a long time ago.”

“Will!” you exclaim, just as startled and caught off guard as he is. “I…. I did move away, I’m back now,” you try to contain a grimace. Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for a beat as you both try to process seeing each other again after such a long time apart.

A sense of surrealism washes over you, just like in your dream. You can’t help yourself from checking him out. Tall and lean, just as he was in high school, perhaps a little more filled out now. His light brown hair is tousled and shaggy, framing his face. While you always considered him good-looking, age only enhanced his beauty as a grown man now. His face has become a touch more angular, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his jaw defined; his nose, as ever, is sharp and straight. And his lips still curve seductively into the most perfect cupid’s bow that you had to remind yourself not to stare. He swapped his usual black joggers for dark jeans today, with a black t-shirt exposing his toned arms. He looks good, better than you remembered.

“Back?” he asks curiously, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “As in…for good?”

“For the time being,” you say, not wanting to get into the nitty gritty details. “It’s good to see you though,” and you mean it. “How’s your Nan?”

“She’s good, gettin’ on a bit now but she’s doing fine,” his tone is light but his smile is a little stiff. “I gotta bring her this now, actually,” he gestures at the takeaway in his hand. “It’s good seeing you...” he trails off, a little awkward.

“You too, Will,” you reply, unsure where to go from here. He gives you a small smile, then turns and heads up the street.

You venture into the shop and take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the present moment. You had not been expecting to run into anybody you used to know and you felt like your heartbeat was racing more than it should. Or perhaps it was the strange coincidence that you had just dreamed of him last night? You approach the counter and order your food, your thoughts drifting to memories of Will and his friends…

You and Will were a part of the same group of friends in your youth. You took turns hanging out at the chip shop, smoking and chatting at the park, or going to the cinema. You smirk a little to yourself, remembering the crush you had on him throughout most of high school. But, at that age, you were the painfully shy type, both introverted and quiet. You wouldn’t really gain confidence and find your own voice until you went away to university.

But as you were crushing on him, he was crushing on your best friend, Leah. She, on the other hand, was like a shining star, the object of desire for most boys in school; popular, bubbly and sweet, it was easy to see why Will preferred her to you, her quiet wallflower of a friend. You settled for just being his friend, figuring it was better than nothing. The two of you would text almost every day, and hang out together after school sometimes, but it never crossed over into anything other than “friendly”.

In high school, a tragedy struck Will’s life. The loss of his parents in a fatal car accident cast a dark shadow over his soul, forever altering the person he once was. He had a coolness to him now, like he was trying to become untouchable; still cocky and confident, but never loud or boisterous. There were times you would catch him silently brooding when he thought no one was looking, and it was then that you saw the pain behind his eyes. You never wanted to approach him about it, afraid bringing up the topic would only make it worse. Thus, you kept your concerns at bay, choosing silence over potential harm, all the while wishing for a way to ease his burden without risking further damage. When most of your mutual friends were getting ready to leave for school after graduation, essentially leaving him behind, that’s when the trouble worsened.

Lost in your memories, you think back to the last time you saw him….

Flashback

It was the day before you left for uni. Your friend group had one last “going away” party but Will, Tom, and Matt were mysteriously absent. No one could reach them.

He had never not answered your text messages. Concerned, you decided to stop by Will’s house where he lived with his Nan the next morning before you left; one look of his face was enough to know something terrible had happened.

“Let’s take a walk,” you remember him saying. You walked together for a long time in silence, ending up alone with him in a grassy field, away from the town.

“Look, Y/N, I did something terrible,” his lower lip trembled as he stared out into space, his eyes so lost. You had never seen Will cry, not even when his parents died. Alarm bells rung in your head, your heart pounded in your chest at seeing this side of him.

You grabbed his arm, turning him to face you. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, only staring down at his shoes.

“Will, please tell me what has happened. Maybe I can help you!” you begged.

“I don’t want to implicate you,” and your blood chilled with fear. Implicate? Could he be in trouble with the law? You didn’t know what else to do. You hugged him, wrapped your arms around his middle as he sobbed quietly in your ear, his tears terrifying you even further. You felt like crying yourself.

After a moment, he regained his composure, still holding onto you and whispered in your ear “I gotta get back to Nan, but, Y/N, if you hear anything…that something’s happened…just know I never meant for it to go that far.”

He refused to say more. You looked up into his face and saw his haunted, sad eyes pleading into yours. You nod, unsure of what else you could do to help him at this point.

While at uni a few weeks later, you were chatting with your mum one evening when she broke the news to you. Will, Tom, and Matt had been caught stealing from the post office with a stolen firearm. You were shocked. Although they were always a mischievous and slightly troublesome trio, nobody had known that the boys had started breaking into homes and stealing for extra cash. Your heart broke upon hearing the news. The Will you knew was a good person, he had just traveled down a dark path and lost his way. Your mum explained that Will was most likely headed to prison for theft and possession of a firearm...

Your order is ready, snapping you back to reality for a moment. You take your food and approach an empty booth, your mind still on Will. You wondered what had happened to him in the time that you had been apart. He obviously was out of prison now and he looked well cared for. You were glad to hear his Nan was doing ok, since she was all the family he had left now. You hadn’t heard about Matt, Tom, or Leah, as you had lost contact when you went away to school. Memories of the past consume you as you sit in the booth and attempt to enjoy your fish and chips, not nearly as excited about it as you had been before your chance encounter.

Late that night, you were mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for sleep to take you. You see a Facebook notification indicating a new message. You click it and see Will’s face.

[Will]: Hey

You stare at it for a minute until curiosity gets the better of you and you reply back.

[Y/N]: Hey?

You can’t help but be a bit surprised. The Will you used to know never had Facebook and hated all forms of social media. You tap on his profile to stalk him, but, aside from his photo, nothing else jumps out at you. His profile is quite blank.

[Will]: I’m sorry about earlier when we bumped into each other. I was so short with you.

Intrigued, you hadn’t expected an apology. You can see he is still typing so you wait.

[Will]: You know... if you ever wanted to meet up sometime for a drink, I’ll always be about. Catch up for old time’s sake?

You stare at his message. You reason that it would be good for you to get out of the house for once and you were curious to discover what had become of him. You type a reply, and you both agree to meet up after work on Friday.

[Will]: Brilliant. See you then.

[Will]: Oh and just so you know, I created this profile just to find you. I still fuckin’ hate social media. What’s your number? I want to delete this already.

You press your lips together to try to contain a smile, that’s the Will you used to know. Impressed by the effort he went through to find you, you give him your phone number and he returns his. You go to sleep that night, your thoughts on him, again wondering how in the hell you had just dreamt of him and then he materializes like some sort of fucking premonition. For the first time in a while, you fall asleep easily, hoping to see him again in your dreams.

A few days later, you sit across from Will at the pub, enjoying a pint and each other’s company. Everything about him seems familiar yet different at the same time. He’s back in dark jeans again but has swapped his black t-shirt for a white one. Because of the heat, you have opted for a light summer dress, your favorite color, blue, with sandals. As usual, he’s a little quiet at first, but eventually warms up, telling you about his life since you had left. For the first time in a long time, you forget about your own painful past as you focus on him.

He looks down as if ashamed to meet your gaze, his knee bouncing up and down, slightly agitated as he recalls the bad memories. “I did a few years in the pen after Tom, Matt and I were busted for stealin’ from the post,” he said. “But after that, I knew I needed to turn my life around and be better, ‘specially for Nan,” he pauses and takes a deep breath through his nose. “After everything that had happened, I just wanted to make her proud,” he adds quietly.

You nod sympathetically, “I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must have been tough but I’m glad to hear things are better now, Will. And what about your mates? What happened to them?"

He frowns, “Haven’t seen any of ‘em since we were busted. Last I heard, Leah had Matt’s baby but they aren’t together anymore. Tom went off to school. I know nothin’ else. It’s no loss, really.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care but you know better than to believe his nonchalant attitude. His first defense mechanism was always to pretend to be tough and unbothered. You can see through his facade more easily now than when you were younger, the lingering hurt evident by the way he delivered the words. You remembered how tight-knit their group used to be, facing the world together with a sense of invincibility. It was a shame that his friendships didn’t withstand the trials and test of time.

“Wha’ about you, though? Thought you married some fancy lad and moved across the pond, eh?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows, taking a sip of his beer and you suddenly feel like you’re sitting under a bright light. The memories you’ve tried so hard to bury resurface, anxiety blooming in your chest, attempting to claw its way up your throat.

It must have shown in your face, for Will leans forward and places his hand on yours, looking concerned. “Hey, it’s ok, I’m sorry I asked. Just curious was all. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, “ he says softly, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand.

You feel your breath hitch a little at the unexpected touch, but something about it calms you slightly, keeping you grounded. You decide to keep your sob story short, just as he did.

“He cheated on me with his secretary so I divorced him. I told him I didn’t want anything from him. He kept everything, including our savings account. I….I just wanted to be done with him. So I came back home to stay with mum and dad for a bit while I get back on my feet,” you ramble quickly as if saying it fast wouldn’t hurt as bad, but you knew you kept the worst part of your pain to yourself. You couldn’t find the strength to tell him about your miscarriages; the pain that you carried with you everywhere, thrumming underneath, was still too deep and too raw to talk about so casually over beers. Even though you hated your ex-husband, your babies would still always be yours.

You take a deep breath through your mouth and raise your eyes to meet Will’s gaze. He’s studying you as if he knows there’s something you’ve left out. His blue eyes seem to burn into yours, like he can sense the storm beneath your surface. Or maybe that was just your paranoia? You blink and look away, fearing that if you maintained eye contact, you’d start crying.

You sit like that for a minute, focusing on your breathing as you try to control your anguish. You hate the way the memories still traumatize you after all this time. You squeeze his fingers, thankful for his calming reassurance. He squeezes yours back and you can feel the tightness in your chest dissipate slowly.

“He didn’t deserve you anyway,” Will says quietly. Then, “Besides, you were obviously in America too long. You’ve barely got an accent anymore. Doubt you even remember how to make a decent cuppa.” He teases you, trying to lighten the mood. “I bet they don’t even have proper tea over there.”

You can’t help but manage a small smile. “No, they really don’t”.

“How did you survive?” he asks in mock horror.

You roll your eyes, enjoying his teasing, “I managed,” you chuckle and swat at his arm; he grins back at you, pleased to see you smile.

“You’ve changed too, you know,” you say after a beat. “You’re not the boy I used to know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he leans back in his chair, assuming a relaxed posture. He intertwines his fingers behind his head, as if inviting you to take a closer look. His confident demeanor seems almost intentional, like he’s on display for you.

So you observe him, a small smile tugging at your lips. You shake your head, suddenly feeling shy just by looking at him. “I just think you’ve grown up, Will. You seem confident, happier now. Like...you’ve finally found yourself and know who you are.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, maintaining his smirk, but there's a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "And you," he counters, his voice laced with his playful banter, "you've finally outgrown Leah's shadow. You were so shy and quiet when we were younger,” he pauses as he studies you a bit, his eyes flicking over you. “I see that you’re not that same girl anymore. Life has dealt you a shitty hand, but it’s nothin’ you can’t overcome.”

You look down, trying not to blush or look too pleased. It had been ages since you felt “seen” by someone. Silence envelopes the conversation, but it’s not uncomfortable.

You debate with yourself for a minute as a memory from the past nags at you and decide you have nothing to lose by asking.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Will? The last time I saw you…” you trail off, looking up at him. You know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

His face falls a little as he grows serious again. “What could you have done for me? I would have had to admit to your face what I had done, how stupid I was. I was a coward and afraid. I couldn’t stand to see your disappointment,” he grimaces. “And I didn’t want to bring any trouble upon you either, with you headed to school and all.”

You nod, already expecting an explanation of this sort.

“We’ve really been through some shit, haven’t we?” you remark with a small smile trying to make light of the past. You take a sip of your beer, realizing that by sharing each other’s pain and hardships, you feel less alone.

“No kidding,” he huffs, then “C’mere,” he stands and pulls you to your feet. You are hesitant to stand, unsure of what he was doing. Will steps closer, lifting your arms slightly to indicate that you should wrap them around his neck, bending forward and embracing you into a tight hug, his own arms around your waist.

You aren’t even sure when the last time somebody who wasn’t your mum hugged you like this. You want to scream and cry and crumble into his arms, the pain and memories of the past threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you take a few deep breaths while Will whispers encouraging words into your ear. You aren’t even sure how long the hug lasts, but when you break free, you inexplicably feel a little lighter, as if the weight of your grief was crushing you a little less.

Will was the last person you thought you’d reconnect with when you moved back home. Both of you were essentially rebuilding your lives from scratch. Will, having gone through the turmoil of being in prison, understood the weight of redemption and second chances. And you, having endured the pain and upheaval of divorce and multiple miscarriages, were struggling to pick up the broken pieces while navigating the grief that accompanies such profound loss.

You continue to see each other semi-regularly over the next few weeks. Over time, you start waking up feeling hopeful again. Anytime you see he has texted you, your heart skips a beat. You love hearing the sound of his voice: soft and low, it always brings you a sense of comfort. You fought to admit it for a long time, but you realize deep down that he has given you something to look forward to, and you haven’t felt that in such a long time.

You didn’t necessarily know how to define your relationship as you were very much only looking for friendship. But there was something different about Will. You realize he had already secured a small piece of you, although you didn’t remember giving your heart permission to grant him any space. Your shared past pain of broken circumstances bonded you together and you were more than happy to take things slow while your broken heart mended.

A few weeks after seeing him at the pub, he invites you to go to the cinema with him. He bought the tickets, you bought the drinks and popcorn, enjoying being able to treat him too.

After the movie, as you head out of the theatre, you discover a rainstorm is pouring torrentially. You both hover underneath the awning of the cinema, not wanting to be completely soaked from the storm.

After a few minutes, the rain shows no signs of letting up; Will turns to you and smiles.

“A little bit of rain never hurt anyone, right?” he asks, grinning as he holds out his hand. “I say we make a run for it.”

So you take his hand and, together, you sprint towards the car, becoming completely drenched along the way. You shriek with laughter as you feel like you're getting hit by a waterfall, not just simple rain. Upon finally reaching the car, you wrench the door open and throw yourself inside the dry interior.

Once safely inside the car, you turn and look at each other, giggling at the other’s soaked appearance, exhilarated from your sprint and from the chill of the rain. Will’s t-shirt is completely wet, his hair plastered to his forehead. You are quite certain you probably look just as bad, if not a little worse as you wipe mascara from under your eyes. You shiver a little in the passenger seat and Will places a warm hand on your knee as he starts the car to drive off and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on your wet shirt, now clinging to your body.

The rain has let up by the time he pulls up to your home. He stops in front of your house and, like a gentleman, walks you to the door.

Turning towards him, you thank him again for the movie and lean up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek, expressing your gratitude.

You can hear him hold his breath at your closeness, you see the way his eyes watch you as you lower yourself back down. Wordlessly, he grabs both sides of your face in his warm hands, holding you there. You stare up at each other for a beat; you had felt this coming in your gut and you wait for him to make the next move.

He leans down and kisses you, softly, sweetly, his lips molding into yours. You breathe in, inhaling his breath into your lungs, suddenly feeling your head spin, your heart race.

He breaks the kiss after a moment. “I hope that wasn't too bold,” he says quietly, hands still cupping your face.

“Not at all,” you breathe back, sincerely meaning the words.

It was at that moment you knew he had the potential to be more than just your friend.

>>>Part 2

#ewan mitchell #will salad days #salad days #smut #aemond targaryen #tom bennett #fanfic #ewan nation

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