#but when I go a day without drawing I end up feeling terrible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azsazz · 29 days

Text

Hide (Part 3)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,447

Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙

[Part One] [Part 2]

_________________________________________

You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.

Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.

This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.

Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.

You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same.

Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.

With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.

Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.

Get out of my court.

Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.

You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.

Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break.

The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.

Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before.

His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.

Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.

“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is.

You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.

You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand.

Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach.

Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts.

“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”

“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”

The silence that follows your words is scorching.

Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.

Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.

When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.

You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.”

Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.”

Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”

You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.

His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason.

“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night.

You can’t help but to think about your brother.

You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.

You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground.

“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”

You hope.

You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now.

Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.

It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating.

You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.

“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his.

He doesn’t like this anymore than you do.

Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.

When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood.

A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.

Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other.

The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—

Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”

_________________________________________

Hide taglist: @littlesw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @meritxellao @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @kennedy-brooke @melsunshine @starsinyoureyes @sleepylunarwolf @actuallykate777 @lilah-asteria @acourtofbatboydreams @misskennygirl

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #hide #eris angst

662 notes · View notes

punkshort · 2 months

Note

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #requests

436 notes · View notes

luveline · 5 months

Note

I love your KBD universe it is soo adorable!! All the kids are written so cutely! I relate to Avery so much! I was thinking about what if mom is super pregnant and she always wants to be near Steve, like she almost doesn’t even want him out her line of sight. Always wanting to touch him and get kisses from him. Love your blog!!

kisses before dinner ♡ you're pregnant and steve is lovely

There is a silver lining to being eight months pregnant (that isn't the baby at the end) —your husband.

Steve gets soft. When the physical evidence of your pregnancy becomes unignorable, and then glaringly obvious, he treats you with exceptional care, love and tenderness. You can't get enough of it or him.

And you're like a lost puppy when he's not near. “Steve,” you say, feeling rather morose about the whole thing, “where are you?”

“In the kitchen! Do you want something?”

No, you think, just you. “What are you doing?”

“Babe, I'm making you and Ave your drinks!” A telltale plink of ice cubes knocking against glass follows. “Don't get up, okay?”

You squeeze Avery's hand where it's held in yours. “Does he think I'll explode?”

She giggles, her almond eyes lit with her laughter. “Maybe, mom.”

“Do you think I'll explode?”

“No way. You didn't explode before.”

“‘Xactly.” You'd offer to carry her, or simply scoop her up without asking, but being so pregnant actually does feel like you're going to explode sometimes and you figure it's a bad idea. “Let's go see what he's doing.”

You and Avery pick over Dove's tea party, abandoned sadly in the middle of the living room, and make your way into the kitchen, which is less hecticly messy but a tad grimy after a long week. Grease clings to the stove top and there's a cherry red stain down the front of the refrigerator. Death of a stolen popsicle.

Steve sighs when he sees you, too much love around his eyes for any believability when he chides, “You can't sit down. It's impossible.”

You push yourself back against the counter next to his hip. Avery does the same immediately, giving him a similar look, you're sure.

He tries to hide his smile with a sip of Avery's too full drink. “Here,” he says when it's at a safer level, “apple juice for you. And ice, princess.”

“Thank you,” she says, eyes wide as her open palms. She takes it and drinks at it greedily, the sweet taste of concentrated sugar enough to steal her attention. She walks out of the kitchen calling for Beth. “Come have some juice!”

“That's adorable,” Steve says.

“You tend to make them that way.”

He throws an arm against his forehead, slouching beside you, the other wrapping behind your back. “I know. It's exhausting.”

You spy your youngest under the kitchen table. The girls are fascinated with alcoves and small spaces. If they can fit into a nook, they will, and if they can't, they'll squeeze in anyhow. She breathes through her mouth over a pad of paper with a shard of a crayon in hand, drawing rather intricate things, considering her age.

“Are those flowers?” you whisper.

“Think so…” Steve lifts his head high to kiss the top of yours, his arm moving up to your shoulders. He rubs at them like he's trying to relieve a pressure you haven't announced. “You really need to stop getting up all the time. You're at risk–”

“No, the doctor said if I'm not careful I'd put myself at risk.”

“And what are you doing?” he asks, voice like velvet, smooth and soft as he looks behind your ear. He must see something, petting away a flyaway or a loose strand or something, his touch as tender as his voice.

You tilt your head away from him. After as long in love with one another as you have been, he knows you're asking for something rather than moving away, and he leans in again to kiss your cheek, rubbing behind your ear all the while.

“Let's go sit down,” he suggests.

“In a second.”

You're terrible lately but it's all his fault. You crave his affection both big and small, all the time, and in every place. You'll be off work any day now and you're sure you'll spend that time soaking him in while he runs ragged trying to get things ready. You've done it before. Steve in the grocery store looking for a hundred different things while you draw stars into the backs of his hand, or trying to fix the baby gate onto the wall while you sit on the stairs making googly eyes at him.

“My boy,” you say stupidly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Regrettably, he can't continue to dote on you like that, but it prompts him to hug you as close as he can manage. “I love you.” You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “You smell really nice.”

“I love you too.” Pine, today. Fresh. “I see what's happening.”

“What's happening?”

You think he's going to put you down. The baby hormones are making you clingy, he might say, but he doesn't. “You've realised how hot I am. You're late, but I'll forgive you. You know, ‘cos of your predicament.”

“Thank you,” you say, kissing his neck gently.

You leave a series of butterfly kisses down the column of his neck before squishing yourself into the curve of it, resting too much weight on him. He takes it all without complaint, hugging you tighter, the distension of your bump a beach ball between you that makes you unfortunately shorter, bending as you are.

His breath is a pleased sound in your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You hug until you have a strange pain in your neck; he encourages you away from him like he can sense it.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb under your eye, a millionth sweet touch to add to the mountain.

“I'm great.”

“Yeah?” He holds you in place and kisses you. “Love you,” he says, his bottom lip jutting against yours. He kisses you again, and then he pulls away completely, a hand between you both the only tether. “Time to sit down. I'm gonna take your blood pressure.”

There's no need. If anything, the way he's looking at you might give an inaccurate reading, but you think of the fawning and fretting and the rough of his fingertips digging into the top of your arm and smile, giddy. “‘Kay.”

“Come on, Dovey, let's go be mommy's doctor,” he calls to Dove.

In a rather uncharacteristic episode of actually listening, she abandons her crayons and takes his offered hand. He shoots you a quick smirk, as if to say, Yeah, I did that. It's stupid and it makes you laugh, because you couldn't love him much more than this.

632 notes · View notes

michwritesstuff · 8 months

Note

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

Ok I don’t even know where to begin other than saying that this was my first request! After writing for over 5 years I can’t begin to explain how rewarding it is to know that someone else wants to read your work! Thank you to all of you who always like and reblog my work! Love you forever. And thank you so much for this request, I hope that you love it :)

Just Want To Be With You (Harry Potter: Theodore Nott)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Theodore Nott

notes/warnings: mentions of bad period cramps, draco and mattheo being assholes (love them, but i needed a villain) fluff, and theodore just being comforting and cute, suggestive at the end

word count: 1,300+

You knew it. As soon as you woke up you knew that you had started your period. If the cramps from the day before didn’t tip you off already, they were making their presence known now.

You didn’t always have terrible cramps, but when you did…there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to curl up into a little ball under your sheets.

Alas, the world is unforgiving to women, and you couldn’t skip all your lessons without drawing some attention. Having to explain the inner workings of the female body to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of your priorities. So, you mustered up all the energy you could and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

******

In hindsight, coming to breakfast may not have been the best idea. You were in pain and feeling quite nauseous, barely chewing on your toast as you poked at the food on your plate.

“You alright Y/N?” Pansy asked.

You gave her a weak smile as you shook your head no, gesturing to your stomach in the process. She gave you a knowing look, instantly understanding your frustration and pain.

You hoped that you would see Theo in here, he usually woke up later than you did so you knew it would be pointless to wait for him in the common room. Yet the lightly curly-headed and blue-eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Malfoy and Mattheo whispering and giggling brought your attention back to the table.

“Look at Potter with that know-it-all mudblood, we’re going to wipe the floor with Gryffindor at tonight’s match.”

Now you weren’t exactly friends with Hermione Granger. She seemed nice enough from the lessons that you had shared with her, being a know-it-all was a pretty accurate description of her. But Malfoy was always a complete minger.

“Don’t use that word,” you spoke up, surprising the boys whose giggles and large smirks turned into sharp stares.

“What was that Y/L/N?” Mattheo spoke up.

“I said not to call her that,” you spoke again, more strongly.

Malfoy smirked before speaking again.

“What, are you friends with the mudblood? Why didn’t you just say so Y/N.”

“SHUT UP MALFOY!” you exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ you’re no fun,” Mattheo stated under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, are you on your period or something?” Malfoy teased.

That caused both boys to laugh, along with a few first years seated a few feet down.

You got up quickly, storming out of the Great Hall. You could barely hear Malfoy doubled over in pain after Pansy had elbowed him in the stomach.

As you made your quick exit you bumped into a large figure.

“Love—”

It was Theodore. His bright smile dropping as he took in your state. Your face had reddened from the embarrassment and light tears filled your eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just want to get to class early.”

“Ok, I’ll come wi—”

“NO!” you said, a little quicker and aggressively than you intended.

“You have a game today; you need to eat. I’ll see you in class," you smiled softly, reaching on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Theodore watched as you left, a sad frown gracing his lips as he continued into the Great Hall.

******

Your lessons went by as smoothly as they could, despite the stabbing pain in your abdomen.

Theo was as supportive as he could be, you hadn’t exactly told him much. He knew something was wrong, but he knew better than to pry. You would tell him when you were ready.

As you walked back to towards the common room Theo swayed your hands back and forth. You looked up at him, giving a soft smile before your eyes dropped to the ground again.

“I’m going to grab my robes then stop at the great hall for a quick snack before heading to the pitch,” he told you.

FUCK…you forgot he had a match tonight.

“You know, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind if I just stayed here?”

Of course it would be ok, Theo would never make you do anything that you didn’t want to.

You loved going to his games and supporting him. He’d give you your favorite quidditch hoodie of his and look to the stands to see you cheering and screaming louder than anyone.

“I—Yeah…Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just not feeling too hot,” you smiled weakly.

“Good luck tonight, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You hugged him tightly before giving him a soft kiss and walking up the stairs to your dorm room.

******

Hours had passed and you could assume that the match was over and Slytherin had won from the cheering and chanting that echoed up the stairs from the common room.

Your cramps were relentless. You took a steaming hot shower, and while the pain had subdued for a short moment, it had returned.

You were currently in the fetal position, clutching your stomach as tears fell from your eyes, your transfiguration textbook thrown aside as your homework was long forgotten.

Too caught up in your pain, you hadn’t heard when someone entered your room.

Theodore was terrified to find you curled up on the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying to your bed.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, turning your head to face him as he made his way over to you, your gaze softened.

“How was your game?” you asked.

“Y/N, enough. Please love, what’s wrong.”

There was no more hiding the pain, you were literally curled up in front of him.

“I’ve had the worst cramps all day and the pain just won’t go away. I tried to do McGonagall’s assigned reading, but I just couldn’t focus,” you said as the tears began to fall.

Theodore moved your books to the floor before moving you slightly so he could sit next to you.

“Why didn’t you just say so love? You know my mom makes that special tea.”

“I—I was embarrassed. Malfoy and Mattheo were being mean, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t overreact. You have every right to feel how you do right now. I’d like to see Malfoy have cramps. I’m sure he’d be even more insufferable than he is now.”

You chuckled softly at his statement.

Theodore always had a way of making you feel seen. He was your boyfriend of course, but he was also so much more than that. He was your best friend. Everything between you too was effortless, he never made you feel like a burden. You felt silly thinking that you were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently.

“Just want to be close to you,” you whispered softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Now that I can do,” he said as he stood up.

“Theo, no, where are you going?”

Without answering you, he walked across your room and pulled his hoodie from his bag.

As he returned, you sat up slowly. Reaching for the hoodie he shook his head.

“Arms up.”

You happily complied and let him put the hoodie on you, pulling it on completely before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

He shifted you away from him so he could cuddle up behind you. Pulling you close, he rested his hand on your stomach, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

You pushed your body back slightly, wanting to be as close as you could to him. He inhaled slightly at the friction before tightening his arm around you.

“You know, I remember reading some muggle article that says sex supposedly helps with cramps.”

“Oh shut up” you laughed.

“I’m serious,” he laughed with you.

Turning your head slightly so your lips could meet with his, you gave him a quick kiss before pulling back.

“I love you Theo.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

#teentvimagines #harry potter imagines #harry potter masterlist #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x female reader #theodore nott x female reader #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #draco malfoy

831 notes · View notes

cuubism · 2 months

Text

physical therapy part 4

It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.

The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.

But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."

"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.

"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.

"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."

Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.

"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."

That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"

Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"

Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.

"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.

"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.

"Now?"

"You got somewhere else to be?"

Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.

Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."

"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."

Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.

So he takes the chopsticks.

Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.

He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.

"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.

It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"

Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.

"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.

Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.

Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.

"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.

Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."

And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.

Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.

He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.

"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."

Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.

Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."

Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.

"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.

"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."

Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.

But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.

But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.

#a singular chapter in which dream has a good time!#physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #bit of a time jump bc i dont think i have it in me to write one billion physical therapy sessions XD like they gotta kiss sometime #long post

300 notes · View notes

restinslices · 3 months

Note

Ahhhh after some thought I’ll choose the earthrealm men with a lovey dovey s/o 👉🏻👈🏻

back to requests a mere 6 days after saying I was gonna take a break. Was that post a little unnecessary? Yes, but I didn’t want anyone to get mad at me for not posting everyday and not getting to requests immediately. ANYWAY, back like the flu.

Johnny Cage

Johnny “Loves Attention” Cage is having the best time

Do y'all remember how much of a cornball this man was in the game? He has no shame

So a significant other who also has no shame? He's getting on one knee as soon as possible

He tries to out cornball you

He loves it all. The stupid nicknames, the cuddling, the gifts, the giggling, all the adoration, he's just in love

Definitely returns the favor. If you buy him smth, he's buying you smth (let's ignore that debt), you give him a nickname so he gives you one. It goes on and on

All this lovey dovey shit might exhaust some people. Johnny is not some people.

The nicknames are probably his favorite part. He makes the most atrocious nicknames up because you won't be upset

Some real dumb shit like Oogy Boogy Sweetie Weetie Cutie Patootie Kissy Face- yeah all that shit is one nickname. Why? Because it's funny to him and you'll laugh

The type to get y'all dumbass matching shirts

“If found return to stupid” “I'm stupid”

Those type of shirts

Everyone hates you because it becomes a competition of who can be the most corny. It's tortuous for anyone near you

Cannot express enough how much this man enjoys the attention you give him. If one day you decided to ignore him as a joke, he'd actually be so sad and notice immediately

He just adores having a corny lovey dovey partner. The best thing to happen to him.

Kenshi Takahashi

He doesn't hate it but he definitely needs a breather sometimes

Having a lovey dovey partner isn't terrible to him. All the touching and nicknames and being spoiled is definitely cute to him, but being lovey dovey also means you're on him a lot. Kenshi doesn't give me huge extrovert vibes so I think because you're so extreme(?) that there's times when he needs a break

He thinks it's adorable though. He likes feeling wanted so he likes how outwardly you are with your love

Idk if he likes all the nicknames though. I can see him easily cringing if you go overboard

Idk how he'd feel about you spoiling him. He doesn't hate it but he feels like everytime you give him a gift, he has to give you one and he ain't got that shit on him. His own thoughts are running him dry

When his social battery is recharged I think he'd like how physical and sweet you are

He enjoys how loved you make him feel. He's just not sure how to respond sometimes. I can see you saying something really corny and although he thinks it's cute, his brain doesn't move fast enough and he ends up just staring at you

He rolls his eyes a lot too so it can give the appearance that he's annoyed by you but it's definitely not that

You want some corny shit he'll definitely like? Matching jewelry. He'll eat it up like it's a cookie

Also draw over his tattoos. He loves it

Loves the corny shit his brain just legit shuts off sometimes

Kung Lao

Like Johnny, he enjoys the attention

Idk if he necessarily enjoys all the corny things. I don't get a strong feeling from him. Maybe it depends on the day

Likes the attention and spoiling but all the corny nicknames and shirts and just being a total sap makes him a little uncomfortable at times

Once again, it depends on the day. Sometimes he's all for it and sometimes he's like “let's calm down for today”

Gets you a matching hat but without all the sharp shit because he doesn't trust you with sharp objects

He's a mix of Johnny and Kenshi tbh

He refuses to wear those corny matching shirts. You'll have to kill him

That applies to other things too

Those corny nicknames Johnny would make up? He'd prefer a beating from a serious Spiderman

“Aw my Snookie Wookie-” “I'm gonna shoot myself right here right now. Please stop”

It's cute and he acknowledges that it's how you show love but certain things just ain't gonna work with him

Especially in public certain things just won't work with him because he has an ego and thinks certain things will make him look weird. It's giving insecure teen

Don't doubt his love for you though. He loves his little sap. Just take it a bit slow

At some point a switch would flip and he'd go from being embarrassed to thinking “wow, I'm so great my partner is willing to look silly in front of others!”

Now he feeds into your corny bullshit

A win is a win

Raiden

I fully believe him and Liu Kang are romantics, therefore he loves it

He gets flustered easily so tons of affection makes his face go red and all that cute shit

His brain also short circuits like Kenshi's. He's so bad at pretending he's not flustered

“Are you blushing?” “...” “...” “...” “Raiden?” “Of course not”

Likes the consistent physical contact

Spoiling him also makes him short circuit. He's trying to think of how to thank you but all that comes out is “oh!”

Adores you just as much as you adore him

He likes gift giving. And idk mean just jewelry, I mean “you got me all these gifts so I'm gonna bring you a bunch of produce and hey, maybe we can cook later”

We saw him collecting cabbages like Cabbage Man from ATLA in the beginning of the game, he gotta still have the hook up

Loves receiving cheek kisses

Man is so weak in the knees. Kung Lao can yell “STAND UP!” all he wants. That shit is not happening

Play with his hair. Once again, weak in the knees

He's having a great time. Sure he's easily embarrassed but it's not like “omg, you're being weird. Stop”. It's more of a “I love this but I feel like everyone's looking”

You two are super lovey dovey but not as obnoxious as you and Johnny. Johnny is like “you can't out corny me” and Raiden is just tryna vibe and love on you since you love on him

All the embarrassment he feels is so worth it to him

Liu Kang

A romantic so all that lovey dovey shit? Heaven to him

Liu Kang has so much love to give and he's never allowed to share it because his life is ass in every timeline

So a partner that adores him and shows him how much they adore him? Did the Elder Gods hand craft you for him?

He's honestly a mix of everyone. He wants to love you all the time like Johnny, he loves how much you love him like Kenshi, he loves how much you outwardly adore him like Kung Lao and he's a huge romantic that loves how much time you spend together like Raiden

He's so love deprived so he loves everything you wanna do

Matching shirts, jewelry, socks, whatever the fuck? Absolutely.

Spoiling him with random shit? He'll take it all

Telling him how much you love him all the time? Yes.

Giving him the dumbest and corniest nicknames? He'll take that too

He's also lovey dovey so the feeling is very much mutual

Enjoys quality time so you wanting to be on his hip is very much welcomed

You're a breath of fresh air since you're so kind and loving to him. Remember he has all the memories of the past timeline, then this timeline gets fucked up. He's used to constant smoke and destruction so someone being so nice and sweet to him and relaxing with him is heavenly to him

Doesn't matter how corny it is. It's all he wants

Real quick, two things. Firstly I wanna make more MK1 intros so y’all should give me ideas. Secondly I think it would be fun if we as a unit made an MK1 oc. I’d make polls, you’d vote on certain things and then we use the same results but tinker it to our individual liking. For example maybe we know they’re Edenian but their gender is up to you. It’d be like a bunch of variants. A Multiverse of Madness if you will.

301 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 9 months

Text

"Boytoy"

WARNINGS; 18+, shameless smut, ken x fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, praise k!nk, size k!nk, virgin!ken, switch!reader, sub!ken, dom!ken, the plot doesn't connect with the movie, kinda slow burn, grammar mistakes

Part 3

"i just want to be wanted, i'm not asking too much"

~roses, mareux~

Even though Ken insisted on being the big spoon, he ended up using y/n as a pillow, not that she complained. (If she were a pillow, Ken was a blanket, heavy and warm.) She was hugging him, drawing invisible patterns on his back, scratching his scalp, pouring her love into him while he hummed, being so in love, so loved, so seen. Eventually, they both fell into a peaceful slumber with content smiles still ghosting their lips.

Y/n's pov:

Her alarm goes off and she stretches, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Ken's absence is making her frown.

"Ken?"

"Ken sweetheart?"

Ken is nowhere to be seen, at least the "life sized" version of himself. However, the doll version of himself is on y/n's bed, barely visible under all the cushions and blankets.

Y/n shakes off the empty feeling and is quickly out of her home and on her way to the university.

She's keeping herself busy so she doesn't have to think about how terrible it was to wake up, with Ken having vanished into thin air.

Later the same day, her new friends meet her for lunch and she's literally forcing herself to participate in their conversations, trying to keep Ken out of her head.

How careless was she?! What was she thinking?! A doll boyfriend! A frickin' toy had asked her to be her partner and she simply accepted, feeling happy to be his girlfriend. If her father finds out he's gonna kill her!

Y/n is disgusted with herself for making such thoughts about Ken. Because, yes, she really likes him, maybe she's beginning to love him, even. They share a strong connection, but that doesn't really matter since every time he falls asleep, he's going to be waking up in God damned Barbieland!

Y/n is in such a terrible state of mind that the rest of the day simply passes her by, without her even registering that she's now spending the night with her three classmates, in her apartment, Cillian, one of them, attempting to flirt with her multiple times.

Ken's pov:

Poor Ken is blindly gripping at the beach toys as soon as he wakes up, startled that he isn't feeling y/n's softness close to him.

He lets out the most disappointed sigh before going about his day, since he doesn't exactly have a choice.

But unlike y/n, Ken doesn't give up that easily and quickly regains his cheerfulness, excited for the night to come.

Ken is happy, how could he not be happy? He has the prettiest and kindest girlfriend in the whole universe and if that isn't enough nothing will ever be.

What's more, he's processing all the information y/n gave him on the human body. He's finally aware of both male and female anatomy, as well as terms like, having sex.

Having more free time than y/n, Ken can't suppress the longing that comes along with being separated from his girlfriend. It's gnawing at him, keeping him tense.

Still, Ken can stand all of it, because he knows that when he closes his eyes, y/n will be waiting for him on the other side. (hopefully)

And so another day comes to an end, with Ken falling asleep earlier than usual and y/n trying to survive from Cillian's terrible pickup lines.

Ken wakes up in y/n's bed. It's dark and he can hear voices coming from the kitchen. At first he's reluctant to go inside, unsure. But after ten minutes or so, he can't wait any longer and heads to where the sound is coming from.

"...and have I ever told you how good you look in those jeans?", that's Cillian, standing close to y/n, who accepts the compliment with an -awkward- smile. Ken doesn't recognise the discomfort in y/n's stance and thinks she actually liked this guy's words.

From where he's standing, still unnoticed, Ken can see how the guy is slightly leaning towards *his* girl and how he is raising a hand, probably to put it around y/n's neck.

That of course can't happen, Ken won't let it happen.

But then again, why is y/n talking to this random dude in the first place? Why is she not waiting for him, for *her* boyfriend? Did Ken do something wrong last night? Maybe he isn't good enough for y/n after all. Ken struggles to keep the knot in his throat from surfacing.

He steps forward, closer to the light coming from where the four people are standing, engaging in insignificant but surely entertaining talks.

"Y/n, love"

Ken's voice is trembling slightly, since a new emotion is making his jaw and fists clench, his gaze harden and his throat dry.

He has to repeat himself before y/n turns her head to his direction, eyes tired.

She seems surprised to see him standing there, this time in jeans with a matching jean jacket on top, abs always on display.

She should be expecting him, why is she looking at him like that?!

"Well, y/n honey, why didn't you tell us you have a roommate!?"

"He's a snuck, isn't he now!"

That's the other two girls in the group, standing by the kitchen counter.

Cillian, on the other hand, is giving Ken the death glare. He's about to say something offensive about Ken's bleached blonde hair and prominent tan, perhaps he's halfway through saying it (y/n has stopped paying him any notice).

"Oh- H-hey you! Guys, t- this is... Kenneth. He's my landlady's...nephew."

"Haha! Don't be ridiculous y/n I'm not-"

"Yes, yes you are! And you are supposed to be... sleeping. ", she's raising her voice at him.

Y/n never liked yelling and she can see that she's hurting Ken with her behaviour. But, she has to keep him unknown to the outside world, she really has to, otherwise her father will find out and that means Mattel will also find out. And if this happens, y/n and Ken will never see each other ever again.

"Y/n... what's wrong with you? Why am I supposed to be sleeping? 'Cause I thought the goal is to wake up so that I-"

"That's enough, Kenneth."

She turns to her friends, who are -luckily- not paying any real attention to anything said between her and Ken.

"I'm sorry everybody, y'know it's late and we also managed to wake up my roommate..."

"Don't mention it girl!"

"Yeah, no problem! Does Kenneth have a phone number though?"

Eventually, the "intruders" as Ken saw them, left.

Y/n lets out a sign of relief, looking up at Ken, ready to run to him and hug him tightly. She wants nothing more than to forget about her terrible day and about the panic she felt in the morning when she woke up stripped away from her breathing blanket.

How unthoughtful of her to forget that her previous actions come with consequences.

The betrayal that Ken is experiencing is making his blood boil.

"Who was that man, y/n?! Who was it?!"

He's still fighting the knot at the back of his throat.

Y/n is taken aback by Ken's tone. Her eyes are becoming glassy as she's fighting back tears. (She realises, that even though in her world the -awful- moments she shared with Cillian meant nothing since she had zero interest in him, in Ken's world this wasn't just offensive, but also a sign of disloyalty)

"Cillian is a classmate of mine. You know, he and the girls you saw are attending the same college as me."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Ken that's nonsense, you know you are m-"

"It's not nonsense y/n!"

His voice breaks a little.

He takes a few steps closer to her.

"We are girlfriend and boyfriend! Boyfriend and girlfriend! And I have been waiting for this whole day to finally end so that we can have a sleepover and a pillow fight."

"And you think that I didn't want this day to be over?! You think I wanted to sit and hear all the crap the guy you saw was telling me?!"

Ken is silent. He's still angry at y/n, but somehow understands that she wanted to see him as much as he did.

"Ken, baby, we both are aware you aren't meant to just wake up here. Just imagine if your creators found out."

Now, he feels guilty. Y/n was just trying to protect him, she's the best girlfriend in the world after all. (He's still angry though. Jealousy doesn't wear off that fast.)

"Can you prove it?

Can you prove that this Cillian guy isn't your... secret boyfriend?"

Y/n bites back a chuckle. Ken is still emotional about the whole thing, but it's starting to wear off. She'll prove him just fine.

"I don't kiss Cillian, I kiss you. I don't go down on my knees for him, but for you. I also wouldn't have sex with him..."

She doesn't need to finish the sentence to make her point clear.

Ken grabs her face in his huge hands and brings it close to his, before planting a gentle kiss on her lips.

He then takes a moment to stare into y/n's big eyes, searching for the warmth and understanding she has always showed him.

And he found them. He also found the sinful and playful glint he's also learnt to handle -a little better-.

The tension from before is still there and they're both eager to feel each other impossibly close.

notes~~

Hello everybody<333

I hope you're okay and it's also okay if you're not really okay. Thanks you stuck around! I know this part wasn't spicy, but I swear I'm keeping the best bit of this whole thing for the grand finale 😌

Tags; @notleclerc @moonmaiden1996 @vilovedr @goldenvespa @hope4rain19

banners from; @cafekitsune

my masterlist

TIPS; CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

512 notes · View notes

widowmaxff · 3 months

Note

I’ve been having some bad days, could you write something where Y/N is having a rough week and pretends she’s fine except Wanda knows her daughter and comforts her?

I just love the way you write Wanda as a mother and that she just always knows

overwhelmed

pairings: mom!wanda maximoff × fem!reader

warnings: angst, reader crying, depressed reader — i think that's all!

a/n: tysm for your request love and im so sorry for your bad days, i really hope things get better for you and if you need someone to talk you can dm me, okay? <33

Interacting with any other human being was the last thing you wanted to do today. Saying that you had a bad week was an understatement, all the bad things that could happen to you happened. And not just things around you, but also your mind didn't stop for a second. You felt so overwhelmed that anyone could see on your face how much that week was hurting you.

"This can't be happening right now." You mumble as you feel the raindrops start to fall on your head. There was still more than half the way until you arrived at the Compound, you didn't have an umbrella, much less a coat to protect yourself from the cold that would come. No one could come and get you since everyone was busy and you didn't want to disturb your mother, she had enough problems to deal with yours.

You were coming home from school after another stressful day. You've spent the last few weeks studying for an incredibly difficult test, especially in a subject you had difficulty with, and seeing that big red note made your urge to cry even more. You studied so much that you thought it was impossible for that to happen. So many nights without having slept and so many energy drinks wasted for nothing.

You were absolutely soaked when you stepped into the Compound. Your sneakers made a funny noise when you stepped on them, but the only thing you wanted to do now was take them off your feet and throw them at the person closest to you, shouting in their face. "You're going to clean this up, Little Maximoff." Tony's annoying voice says, obviously joking, but still your head hurt just hearing that you had to do something that day. Your jaw tightens and you close your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath.

"I know, Tony." You ramble, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible. You walk past him to head towards your room, feeling your eyes burn from having something else on your list of things that made your week worse than it already was.

On normal days the first thing you would do was go look for your mother in her office, but the last thing you wanted to do that day was worry her, because you knew that the moment she laid eyes on you she would know that something was wrong. And filling her with your problems would make you feel guilty for a long time, you hated making people feel sorry for you and looking like you were a baby. You just needed to calm down, didn't you?

"Fuck!" You scream when you see all your notebooks soaked, especially your sketchbook, which you spent hours and hours drawing. You drop your things on the floor and run your hands through your hair, taking a deep breath. You wished your mother was there now, she would know what to do and help you with whatever you needed to calm down, but you put that idea out of your head before you ran towards her arms.

You enter the bathroom connected to your room and take off your clothes before you catch a cold. The hot water from the shower makes your muscles finally relax after the terrible days you prayed would end. In a few seconds you no longer knew what water was or what the tears on your face were. All those things that happened in your week came together into one, and you started to feel like you were on that empty, dark hole that took you a long time to get out of. You thought that maybe the problem was you, that maybe you deserved all those bad things, from the smallest to the ones that made you cry and scream like that moment.

You didn't hear the knock on your door because your bad thoughts were so loud that it was almost impossible to even hear the shower water hitting the floor. But when Wanda entered her room after hearing no response, she felt like something was wrong at the moment. She looks at your completely wet things lying on the floor and frowns. You told your mom you didn't need a ride home from school, but apparently, you did.

"Honey, is everything okay?" When she heard the shower turning off after long minutes, she knocked on the bathroom door just to let you know she was there and see if everything was okay. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." You say in a low voice, taking a deep breath. You knew that the moment you left the bathroom, your mother would know that your bad thoughts came back again, but you also knew that she wouldn't pressure you to say anything.

You close the bathroom door quietly, finally looking into Wanda's green eyes and seeing the worry through them. She held your backpack in her hands with her face confused at you, because she wouldn't think twice to get in the car and drive to you. "I was almost here at the Compound and the rain caught me." You chuckled, trying to hide your red eyes, your cheeks and the tip of your nose with the same color as your mother's hair.

"Are you okay, love?" She asks again, her face relaxed now. You put a fake smile on your face, but still with enormous affection for your mother.

"Yeah, just a little upset that my sketchbook got ruined, but it's okay." You don't completely lie. Yes, you were upset that your drawings would now have to go in the trash, but no, nothing was okay.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Wanda says approaching you. You just throw it away, muttering 'it's okay' but she wraps her arms around you, giving you a relaxing hug. Your mother leaves a long kiss on your head, making the urge to cry increase even more. You loved all the affectionate actions that your mother gave you, it made you feel so vulnerable and light. "Come on, let's get you something to eat, shall we?" You didn't like eating when you were feeling bad like that, you felt like you were going to throw up when you put anything in your stomach because of the anxiety, but you just agreed.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice when you arrived in the kitchen which, unfortunately, was made up of a few people. You felt so overwhelmed that being in the same environment as some people made you feel even worse. The small group of Avengers on your left irritated you. The loud noises they made. The conversations. The sound of people swallowing food. The tapping of Steve's shoe on the floor. Everything irritated you. From the small scratches on the counter to the farthest lamp that blinked every one minute and two seconds. Wanda noticed that. She noticed that you were itching to keep from freaking out. That you closed your eyes tightly trying to ignore your surroundings. That she needed to do something to help. She wanted to come to you and ask what intrigued you so much. What made you take deep breaths and crack your fingers every second was curious.

"Thank you, momma." She almost didn't hear you because of your low and hoarse voice. Wanda leaves a kiss on your head as she watches your foot bouncing up and down, eating the sandwich she made.

Wanda debated in her head what she could do to make you feel better. She knew she couldn't pressure you into saying anything, but she was so worried that she would do anything to see you well again. And even if it got to the point where she had to read your mind, she couldn't. You somehow managed to block your mother from reading your thoughts and seeing what was wrong.

You place your plate in the sink, taking a deep breath. Finally you would get away from people and that feeling of anxiety would finally leave you, that's what you thought. You thought that just a few hours of lying in bed doing nothing would solve your problems, but deep down, you knew that wasn't what would happen. And, now walking towards your room, not even your plan of closing yourself under the covers would be complete, as your mother followed you with the comfortable atmosphere that she always exuded.

You lie in your bed watching your mother calmly wait for your permission to lie down next to you. You nod to her with a smile on your face. Wanda puts her arms around your body, running her hand on your back, making your body relax. You loved these moments between the two of you, you realized how important you are to her and how loved you are. "You know you can always talk to me, don't you?" She murmurs, making you lean into her even more. Your face was in the crook of her neck, hiding how your lip trembled trying to hold back your crying. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

You finally let out a sob when Wanda murmurs those words that came out of her mouth so sweetly. Her grip around you tightens as she feels tears fall onto the skin of her neck, leaving a kiss on your head. The caress on your back never stopped, reassuring you that you were safe in your mother's arms. "It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay." You hated crying out loud, but at that moment you couldn't control all those feelings that made your heart ache spilling across your face, and Wanda was there to remind you that it was okay to cry and feel that way. "I-I'm sorry."

"Honey... we never apologize because of our emotions, right? Never." Wanda pulls you to place you on her lap, making you lay your head on her chest. You start playing with the hem of your mother's shirt, sniffling as you try to think of words you could say to her. "Do you want to talk about it, детка?"

"It was just... a bad week." You murmur, snuggling even closer to Wanda, feeling her heartbeat in your ear, which made you calm down a little more. "I just- I'm just feeling so overwhelmed and... and I don't know what to do."

"Oh, baby... it's okay. We'll get through this, yeah? It's okay to feel this way and I'll help you with whatever you need, my love." She strokes your hair, making your body relax in her lap. You agree, feeling her comfortable words enter your ears and help you with the horrible thoughts. "You're so strong, honey. Remember you're not alone, okay?" You mumble something, agreeing with her. You never knew how Wanda could make you feel better with just a few words, maybe it was her magic? You never knew. But she would always be your best friend and the person who would always make you feel better again. "Thank you, momma."

You would never be able to explain how grateful you were to have your mother by your side, because there are so many people in the world who don't have that comfort, and just thinking about not having someone to help you through your episodes made you feel sick. Even if she didn't say it, you knew Wanda was afraid you'd go back to that time when the hole was deeper than it is now. You remember exactly how she cried with you when you vented to her about everything you were feeling, and how she helped you every step of the way again.

"You don't need to thank me, детка. I love you so much, okay? I will always be by your side, on whatever you need." And you knew she was telling the truth, because Wanda loves you so much. You will always be her little miracle and the most important thing in her life. She feels so proud of you, because she knows that you can get through this, that you are strong enough to get through all the challenges in your life. She believes in your ability to overcome these difficult times - because you can - and there will always be people to support and walk alongside you, because you'll never be alone.

221 notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 5 months

Text

Historia de Amor 2

Hello everyone!

This is the Part 2 of "Historia de Amor" with Ona, I had a few people asking to have a second part so here is it :)

TW : Jealousy, a hint of sadness and so much love.

PART 1 IS HERE and BONUS CHAPTER HERE

First Jealousy

It’s been almost a year now since you and Ona met and you are dating. After spending a summer shared between Villassar de Mar with Ona's family (that you appreciate very much) and Menorca only the both of you, you are back in Manchester.

The weeks pass and over time, you realize that Ona’s new teammate who is also a teammate of her national team is taking more and more place in her life. When Ona informed you of her arrival, she explained that she wanted to help her to integrate as quickly and easily as possible into the team. Having been there at that time, having Ivana take her under her wing had helped her a lot and she wanted to do the same in her turn.

You didn’t think anything bad for a second about your girlfriend’s idea, you know how good she is and her tendency to want everyone to feel the best possible. And you know in your heart that Ona never thought a single second wrong either.

Yet, you find yourself tonight after a day organized by the girls of the team with a strange feeling in the stomach. The players' boyfriends or girlfriends being accepted, it's quite naturally that Ona offered to you to accompany her. And you agreed, enjoying spending time with the United's girls.

But the way the new one had to constantly seek Ona’s attention throughout the day ended up drawing your attention and certainly not in the right way. She didn't hesitate to interrupt you several times while you were in discussion with Ona, she hurried to settle on the other side of Ona during the meal and you simply couldn't have a single second with the brunette without the other being stuck to her sneakers.

And then there’s also the way she looks at your girlfriend that makes you half crazy.

Of course, Ona is beautiful to die for. Even if she is just as beautiful internally, you must admit that Ona's beauty is the first thing you noticed the first time you saw her. But only you would have the right to look at her that way. Not to mention the hands she tends to leave lying on Ona’s arm or back when she talks to her or seeks her attention.

Your mood deteriorated throughout the day and in the middle of the afternoon you finally asked Ona if you could go home. She accepted, searching for your eyes, probably to see what was going on. But you just looked straight ahead before following her to say goodbye to her teammates. You stayed a little longer with Leah Galton who was the host today to thank her and you went to Ona’s car.

You were relieved to get her out of the claws of the one you named in your head "The Leech", but you knew on the other hand that you would receive several questions. Usually, you are more of the type to enjoy every minute of this kind of moments and it's Ona who decide when it's time to go home.

"Are you all right?" asks Ona nicely as she close her door.

You simply nod and hum, tapping on the car screen to put music on.

"You’ve always been a terrible liar, Hermosa"

You sigh softly and look up at Ona, who is watching you as good as she can while keeping her attention on the road.

"I just…" you start to trying to formulate your thoughts coherently, in vain. "It’s nothing, Love."

"You’re starting to worry me"

The worry is indeed audible in Ona’s voice and you bite your lip. When she puts her hand on your thigh, adding a comforting pressure, you let yourself go against the seat back and look at her.

"Your new teammate… Does she only knows you?"

"No, why?" asks Ona frowning lightly.

She seems to have trouble making the connection between your mood and your question and it adds a little guilt to the jealousy and discomfort you feel.

"She hasn’t left you all day, so I was wondering"

You shrug and look outside your window. The sun was shinning today, blessing you with late good weather.

"We play together for Spain, it may reassure her to be with someone who speaks Spanish"

You just hums without stoping to look at the landscape. You don’t believe it for a second. Despite her behavior with Ona, she seemed rather comfortable with others.

"Well, next time you’ll tell her to keep her hands in her pockets" you mumble as the car stops at a fire.

"What are you talking about?"

Again, Ona’s surprise is completely sincere. You know she probably didn’t realize that the physical touches of "The Leech" were invasive, both being Spanish there’s probably nothing to surprise Ona. But you, you saw that the intentions were other than friendly.

"She won't stop touching you"

Ona’s incredulous little laugh makes you shift your attention to her and frown. The car restarted, but you didn’t really notice it, focused on the face of the Latina.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Of course not, but you just imagine things. There is nothing but friendship between her and me"

"For you maybe, not for her. Leah must have pulled out the mop to wipe the drool she left on the floor from looking at you"

"You talk nonsense"

You let out a sarcastic snort and cross your arms on your chest before looking out again. So not only are you not believed for a second, but also not especially reassured by Ona who must take you for a fool.

"Yeah, sure." you mumble, clenching your claw.

No screams were exchanged between the two, but the icy silence that reigns in the car for the rest of the trip testifies to the tension born between you two. And still, you didn’t mention everything you felt. No need to pass for crazier than that.

Arriving at Ona’s apartment, you take refuge in her bedroom. No other words were spoken and this will be the case for the rest of the day. Ona stayed in the living room and turned the TV on, it seems to you on the sports channel. You don’t know what else she’s doing, but there’s no way you’re taking the first step.

After dark, you realize Ona is probably thinking the same thing. You hesitate a few seconds between two possibilities but you end up opting for a shower. You could have gone home too, but the fear of Ona not reacting to your departure is too present. Coward? Most certainly.

The hot water allows you to relax a little and you may stay there a little longer than usual, but you needed it. After your routine after shower, you decide to go to bed. The sound of the TV still rings in the living room and you don’t even know if Ona saw you go from her bathroom to her bedroom in pajamas.

You roll yourself in a ball under the sheets of your girlfriend, slightly reassured by her smell that is everywhere. Lost in your thoughts, you lose a little sense of time. Some time later, Ona gently opens the bedroom door, also showered and dressed for the night. And, still without a word, she slips under the sheets, next to you.

You feel your heart getting heavy, you and Ona never went to bed angry. The times you’ve had an argument can be count on the fingers of one hand since the beginning of your relationship and it has never been so deep.

You let time pass again, your eyes fixed on the wall facing you. Ona doesn't move next to you and you finally realize that she must have fallen asleep. A few more minutes pass before you decide to get up. Gently pushing away the sheet, you leave the room and quietly close the door of the room behind you. You find refuge on the balcony, sitting on one of the chairs you used to occupy when you both remake the world while looking at the stars.

Except that today you feel lonely and your nightwear doesn’t keep you warm. You soon find yourself shivering, but you decide not to worry about it at the moment. This argument broke your heart and before you realize it, warm tears roll down your cheeks. Crying make you feel better, you feel like the steel hand around your heart is loosening a little.

To keep some body heat, you stick your legs to your chest and put your arms around them. Your chin rests on your knees and you get lost in the observation of street lamps and the noise of Manchester night traffic.

Your tears had stopped when you feel a blanket resting on your shoulders, but your eyes are red and swollen. You didn't hear Ona’s hesitant steps coming looking for you, she was far from sleeping too. You turn slightly and for the first time in (too) many hours, you cross the chocolate look of your girlfriend.

Ona’s uncertain gaze becomes tinged with guilt when she realizes that you cried, but that’s not what you want either. So you return to your starting position, enjoying the comforting warmth of the plaid.

"Come in, you’ll catch cold" whispers Ona.

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head negatively to refuse her proposal. She sigh softly and sit on the chair next to you. Without saying a word, you give her a piece of the blanket. You may be angry, but that doesn’t mean you want her to get sick.

She accepts it and wraps herself in it with you, turning towards the street too. A few minutes pass, but without the unbearable tension that existed in the car earlier.

"I shouldn’t have told you you were talking nonsense"

Ona’s voice finally breaks the silence and you turn mechanically in her direction. You don’t know if she cried, either, but she looks tired and sad. She turns her attention to you too and you simply nod.

"I’m sorry Y/N"

How can you resist her? You know she is and that it isn't her fault. Taking a big breath, you let yourself go against her, laying your head on her shoulder. You close your eyes in relief as you feel her arm slide around your waist. Reconciliation seems to be on its way.

"I wasn’t accusing you of anything."

Your voice is on the same tone as that of Ona, a slight murmur. You obviously had time to reflect on the conversation you had and the events of the day, since the time you returned. So precision seems important to you.

"I know you don’t think badly for a second and I trust you. But even in hindsight, I’m pretty sure she’s crazy about you. And I can’t stand the idea."

Ona remains silent for a few moments, stroking your hip. You look up at her to observe her, understanding in her gaze that she is reflecting.

"I’ll talk to her, okay?"

You nod softly, looking back over the balcony gate. A few more seconds pass before you feel Ona move and she gently raises your face in her direction, two fingers under your chin. Her look is soft, tender. The one that make you melts, like vanilla ice cream in the Spanish's sun.

"I love you. I will always do everything to make you feel the best with me. I’m really sorry that I didn’t listen to you earlier and that I got so worked up. It just seems so implausible to me that I might be interested in someone other than you… I only see you."

You smile while your heart is flying somewhere near your throat.

"I love you too. More than anything."

She smiles back and with her fingers under you chin, she approach your face next to hers. After caressing your lips with hers, she offers you the most sweat and loving kiss ever.

First Separation

It was on one of the birthdays of one of Ona’s teammates that you heard the news. It’s been several days that your girlfriend's thoughts seems elsewhere and busy, you asked her some questions but she answered each time that she preferred to talk about it later. You accepted this answer, while making sure that everything was fine and that it didn't affect in any case the feelings she could have for you. Even if it was reassuring, you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. You may have a little idea, but you’d rather not get your head screwed for nothing.

During this evening Ona's mind seems to you once again elsewhere. She was smiling while listening to others speak, without speaking. Her behavior drives you to be extremely clingy with her, but the Latina doesn’t seem to be bothered by that. You didn't expect to find her place on the sofa empty after a short time in the kitchen to reserve you a drink.

Caught in a Mario Kart game, the others don't seem to have noticed her absence. This allows you to go looking for her quietly and it's finally on the balcony that you find her. Leaning against the embankment with both hands, looking at the city. You hesitate to join her, not wishing to disturb her, but you end up delicately closing the door behind you to go towards her. Gently putting a hand in her back, you put yourself at her height after having laid a kiss on her cheek.

"I really like this city" made Ona thoughtfully without leaving it with her eyes.

You leave her face you were watching with attention to look at your turn the city. This is where you grew up, so you’re used to her figure. You let it go for a few seconds, before asking her timidly, without having the courage to look at her.

"Are you ready to talk to me about what’s been bothering you these days?"

Ona sighs softly and you see her move a little, turning her silhouette in your direction. On your side, you let your eyes slide on the headlights of the cars on the main road, a few hundred meters from you. Her hesitation makes you realize that what you’re thinking is probably what’s going on. And that terrifies you.

"You’re leaving" you end up whispering, still without looking at her.

"I have to go home"

You knew that Ona’s contract with Manchester was coming to an end and that Barcelona finally realized the potential of your girlfriend. But you preferred to bury your head in the sand and hope that time stops. You know perfectly well Ona’s desire to return home, to go back to her country, her family and the team she carries in her heart. She never hid it from you.

"Barcelona made you an offer?"

Your voice is always whispered, the knot in your throat prevents you from speaking properly.

"They’re offering me a contract until 2026. I’ve already accepted. I’m sorry."

What’s the answer to that? Nothing, obviously. So you remain silent, fighting against the sadness that invades your body a little stronger with each second passing. The silence stretches and it is finally Ona who takes the floor.

"Can you say something por favor?"

"What do you want me to tell you, Ona? I am extremely proud of you and happy that your dreams come true. You deserve it, sincerely. But I’m gonna miss you so much."

"I’ll miss you too"

Her hand which she places on yours makes you turn your gaze in her direction and you stick to her, seeking a source of comfort to this announcement. She gladly pass her arm around you, keeping you close to her.

"I’m leaving Manchester, but I’m not leaving you. I’m sure we can make it work. I’ll come see you whenever I have free time and you can come whenever you want."

You stay silent for a little time, but maybe too much for Ona who turn your face in her direction. She looks stress and a little sad, too. You know that it wasn't an easy move for her to make.

"Hermosa please talk to me. I have to know what you're thinking or I'll go crazy"

"What if you find someone else?"

As always, your fear to lose her is the biggest. You never claimed to consider her yours, knowing perfectly well that love isn't commanded. So you don't feel safe from losing ither one day and this geographical distance will probably not help this fear.

You see Ona leaning her head to the side, a slight air of annoyance displayed on her face. You have already had this conversation several times and she has always found the right words to reassure you. But there, a new parameter is added to the equation. So you try to explain yourself.

"You will be far from me, there are probably thousands of women who would like to be in my place and there are probably as many who have more in common with you than me. Starting with your native language and where you will live."

Gently taking your face in her hands, Ona looks into your eyes. You have always found her eyes particularly expressive and you sometimes still have as much difficulty to support her gaze. But this time you strive to do it, feeling that you need to impregnate yourself with the words she will say.

"I don’t care Y/N. I love you and I only want you. Before, now and after. Nothing or no one will change that in anyway."

First Homecoming

Ona seemed happier than never since she's in Barcelona. You can see it on the picture in FC Barcelona's Instagram, her smile shinning like the Spanish sun. You know that she miss you though, jumping in an plane every time she can to come back to you. You made the journey to Barcelona twice too, but it's not enough for both of you. Every time you have to say goodbye break your heart a little more.

Ona’s old teammates stayed in touch with you, much to your surprise. Not all of them, but you often meet Ella or Millie for coffee during the week. You know that the first of the two is as lost as you have since her best friend left for Arsenal.

"You should go find her" Ella once made you, over her hot tea.

"I can’t this weekend, I have copies to correct for Monday and an exam to prepare" you sighed softly.

You're working as a literature teacher for teenagers. It’s not always easy, but you have the vague hope of getting a few of them interested, fighting as hard as you can against TikTok. (While watching edits from your girlfriend on the same app, but it's another story.)

"I know. What I’m saying is that you should go find her, for good. Moving to Barcelona."

Your movements stop and you look at the other girl as if the ears of Martians had just pushed on her head. Obviously, you thought about it. But Ona never mention it.

"I’m not sure Ona wants me there. She didn’t offer to follow her when she told me she was leaving."

"Because she knows your whole life is here. Your family, your job… It cost her a lot to leave Barcelona for Manchester and she didn’t want to impose that choice on you."

"How do you even know that?" you asked, frowning.

"She told me. You both are as stupide as the other."

Oh. That’s news would probably have changed a lot if you had the courage to ask Ona directly. Again, fearing a negative answer from her, you preferred bury your head in the sand. Smiling as you saw your brain start up again, Ella had left you to your thoughts.

It only took you two days to make your decision, return the keys to your apartment and resign. When you told Ella, she cheered the same way she did when she scored, promising to save the surprise for Ona.

*********

Now that you’re in Ona’s apartment, you’re wondering if this was really a good idea. The Spanish girl doesn’t know you’re here, gone to training as usual. You had the help of Ona's mother to enter, the Batlle happier than ever to learn that you were coming in Spain.

You know Ona’s apartment for having come here twice already, but you go through it, looking for some changes while waiting for her return. The Spanish architecture is very different from the one you have always known in England, but the light colors and brightness offered by the sun is not unpleasant. And the fact that the perfume of your girlfriend floats everywhere in the air is particularly great.

You enter the last room not yet fully furnished, which Ona had thought of turning into a guest room. It's also where she stored the things she wants to get rid of or what she has not yet had the courage to go down to her cellar. You smile while looking at her old trophies, promising yourself to get her to put them somewhere on a shelf in the bedroom.

"¿Quién está ahí?" ("Who's there?")

You hear Ona’s voice, startling you violently. You drop your phone which makes an atrocious noise when falling on the light wooden floor. You hurry to pick it up and get out of the room, having noticed a hint of anxiety in the brunette's question. Well, arriving home realizing that someone else is there when you live alone can cause concern.

"It’s me"

Your answer is simple and Ona may have seen you before you spoke, but you blame yourself for scaring her. That said, seeing Ona looking at you wide-eyed, her training bag still attached to the shoulder is worth it.

"Y/N?"

"It’s not Hermosa anymore?" you ask without hiding your amusement.

It takes a few more seconds for Ona to realize that she’s not dreaming, but after the thud her bag makes when she drops it, the next thing you know is that you finally find the warmth of her arms. Her hair are still wet from the shower she took at the end of her training, but that doesn't prevent you from plunging your face into the hollow of her neck to breathe in her smell.

You feel your feet leave the ground when she squeezes you even harder against her, despite the fact that you are the higher of the two. But it makes you laugh and take your face off her neck so you can look at her. Her eyes are sparkling and her smile is bigger than ever.

Some kisses exchanged later, your feet find the ground, without taking your arms off from her. It’s not exactly like she’s in a hurry to release you either.

"What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come this weekend?"

"No, I couldn't" you answer with a shrug and a smile.

Ona’s frown and you can not resist the urge to put your lips between her eyebrows to deride her. Taking you by the hand, she takes you to the living room and to the sofa.

"I don’t understand. Were you able to free yourself?"

You gently bite your lip looking at her, thinking about the best way to tell her what you did.

"I quit" you finally confess.

"What? But why?"

"I also gave my apartment back…"

Well, your apartment. Ona came to live with you after a year of relationship and she spent a lot of time there too.

"… and I thought maybe it would be better to find a job and an apartment elsewhere. For example in Barcelona?"

Ona looks stunned and blinks several times, as if to put her ideas back in place. Her silence makes you stress and you hurry to add

"If you don't want me here I can always take an apartment not too far from yours, I will understand, you have already installed everything as you wanted. And in addition I -"

"Stop rumbling" says Ona, putting a hand on your mouth to shut you up. "You’re telling me you dropped everything you had in Manchester to come here?"

"To come to you" you answer, your voice muffling by her hand, before she remove it. "I realize that Manchester isn't home anymore. Because you're not here. Home is where you are."

It takes some seconds to Ona to digest the information and you didn't leave her face with your eyes. When it clicked and maybe she realize at last that you're not joking or this is real life, she mumble how much she loves you before kissing you so hard that you lose your balance and fell on your back on the couch.

Some hours later, you were both fully naked in her (your?) bed, cuddling. You were half-laying on here while she plays with your fingers.

"Where are all your stuff?" Ona asked

"I take some of the things I need first in my wallets, but the other will come after. I had to send them with DPD or something."

Ona hums, kissing your fingers one by one, making you smile. You are convinced that you will never be tired of her or the sensations she gives you. It’s been three years, and you haven’t once seen a decrease in the strength of your feelings. Quite the contrary.

"Do I have to look for an apartment though?" you smile.

"No way" Ona frowns, even if she knows you're joking. "You made me feel home when I was in Manchester. I will make you feel home here, don't you dare going somewhere else."

"Your accent is heavier than when you left" you smile again, making her roll her eyes.

"I only speak English with Keira and Lucy here. Even Ingrid asked me to talk to her in Spanish even if she answer in English."

"Well that's hot."

"Answering in English?"

"No" you laugh. "I always find it hot when you speak Spanish"

Your girlfriend smirk at you, drawing you against her so she can kiss your lips, before quickly stop it.

"Wait. When I speak Spanish or when people speak Spanish? 'Cause if it’s hearing Spanish that’s doing something to you, we’re gonna have a serious problem"

"Only you" you laugh, getting back to your kiss.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine

222 notes · View notes

photo1030 · 11 months

Text

Leather and Lace - Chapter16: Feelings Revealed

PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.

*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4 for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement.

*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp and @regwishesshehadmagic in here.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.

For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.

When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.

As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.

Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."

------------------

Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.

His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.

Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent. He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”

You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.

Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.

"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.

"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.

“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.

“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.

And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.

This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.

One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.

He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"

With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.

"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”

"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."

With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."

His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.

"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.

It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.

You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.

---------------------

By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.

"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.

You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."

The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.

"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.

You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."

“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.

“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.

You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”

“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”

“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.

“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"

There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.

Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'

"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.

You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.

She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.

"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."

Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."

You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.

But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.

After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.

"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.

She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."

John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.

John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"

Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"

"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."

"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "

"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.

John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"

"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"

"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.

"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.

John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."

“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.

“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”

Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."

John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."

"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.

"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.

To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.

You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.

Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.

At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.

You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"

“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”

You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"

“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.

"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.

"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.

“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”

"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.

He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.

“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"

He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.

Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.

"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“

"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.

"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.

“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.

"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.

You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"

"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.

"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.

And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.

But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.

Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.

Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?

From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.

"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.

Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?

But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.

Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.

Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.

"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.

"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."

Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.

Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"

"Maybe I do."

Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.

“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”

Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”

“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.

Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.

------------------------------

This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic

The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.

He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.

As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.

But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears: “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”

Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?

He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.

But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.

You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.

And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?

He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.

With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.

As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.

“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.

Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.

"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."

Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”

"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."

Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?"

“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"

“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.

"She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.

Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."

"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”

He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.

"Abigail?"

"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"

"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.

After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.

Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.

This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur.

You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.

You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”

He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”

You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."

Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.

"(Y/N)…you OK?"

"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"

Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“

"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.

“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.

"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."

Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."

When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.

A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #Read Dead Redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader angst

601 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

can u do a blurb or fic where reader is new to BAU and spence asks her out but shes like oh i dont think you’d want that bc i have a kid :-( n she explains shes a single mom but spence doesnt care

i'm imagining baby reid

Spencer's so pretty, it's one of the first things you noticed when you joined the team, and it's still something you think about now whenever you look at him.

He's shy around you, overly respectful, always blushing when you give him the smallest compliment, and it's adorable. He makes it impossible not to have a childish crush.

You aren't expecting what he says in the BAU kitchenette one morning. "I was, uh, kind of hoping that we could." He clears his throat. "Go o-out, like on a date." He offers, squeaking out the last few words.

You smile as soon as he says it, but that smile quickly fades when you realize you can't drag him into the mess that's your life. "Spencer, I'm sorry."

He shakes his head quickly, looking terrified again. "No, don't be." You feel terrible, imagining how much working up he must have had to do to have asked. You see that confidence dissipate. "I'm sorry I asked."

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day aside from the bare minimum amount he has to say, and he diverts his eyes whenever you catch him looking at you. It's like he doesn't want to overstep, and all you can do is wish he would. You didn't realize how much you love your little conversations, drawing your attention away from the horrors of your work.

You have to say something by the end of the day, and you manage to catch him before he flees the office in shame. "It's not about you." You call out, and he spins around to face you.

He shakes his head. "It's okay. You really don't have to." He assures you, probably anticipating an it's not you, it's me speech.

"It's Daisy." You say, finally catching up to him. Spencer frowns, obviously not understanding what you're saying without the necessary context. "My daughter."

His eyes widen when he realizes what you're saying, eyebrows shooting up. "Oh."

"Look, I like you." You level with him. "Romantically, but you should know that about me before you consider asking me out."

He nods, and you think he's going to let it go, thank you for telling him, and go back to being friends. It's usually the biggest turn-off that there is, and guys- even the ones you think are sweethearts- walk away fast. "Would you like to go on a date?" He asks, much more confident than he asked the last time. "With me, I mean."

You check that he's serious, and he smiles at you. "I would."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

1K notes · View notes

professionalchaoticdumbass · 4 months

Text

in the past week or so ive seen a lot of people posting about how there's this oversexualization of trans girls on the site, and I gotta agree, there are way too many people (including other trans women!) who act like we're all dtf 24/7 or always super kinky and horny. I've been tired of that stereotype for ages and i am saying this as a rather sexual trans girl myself...

...but I think people are overcorrecting a bit now, and are starting to veer into "trans women shouldnt be talked about sexually / need to be shielded from it" territory. and, to me, that's really dangerous, because outside of some queer spaces - and even within them- the sexuality of trans girls is heavily scrutinized, as is attraction to us. as much as I dislike certain aspects of the memes and jokes that kickstarted the stereotypes, I'm kinda grateful for them as well. girldick jokes helped with my bottom dysphoria, voice kink shit helped me like my voice, and the whole "tgirl tummy tuesday" thing gave me a lot of confidence in my body where I hated it before. I think this open appreciation of trans sexiness has done a lot for both me and others on tumblr.

again, obviously its got its problems - people end up assuming every trans girl is horny, or only spread positivity if its related to sex with us, and of course the people who do have dysphoria from the things that are being sexualized are left out (like those the "girls without dicks are like angels without wings" memes, ugh, feels icky every time). and on the note of comparing tgirls to angels, we also started getting treated like we're ethereal fertility goddesses and that t4t sex was some inherently sacred ritual. spoiler alert, trans girls are normal-ass people and t4t sex can be holy for the participants but its generally a pretty normal thing to do as well

coming back to the "don't sexualize trans girls" posts now, I think they were initially going in the right direction, but at this point I'm starting to raise an eyebrow at more than a few of them. I'm not gonna whip out the "youre a sex hating puritan if you post about it" accusation because that is obviously wrong but again, I think people are definitely overcorrecting and starting to turn this into a (false) dichotomy when it's not. its a complex topic and each individual trans woman will feel differently about it.

(I feel like the internet just erases any nuance in favor of a two-sided, highly polarized flamewar with unrealistic views on both sides. actually i wouldn't even say this is a super-nuanced discussion because its really not that hard to say "fetishization is bad, but so is suppression of sexuality". will this post just end up being a void scream and people will continue drawing lines between one side and the other? probably. but I am a stubborn bitch and I have hope that we can be reasonable.)

anyways I'll close this off by saying that I wrote this between around 1:30 and 2 AM on terrible sleep the night before, that I hope what I said is coherent enough, and that I will keep being a trans girl who is openly sexual, gets horny over other trans women, and is proud to be transsexy as fuck. I will keep being critical of jokes and trends and memes that stereotype us, even from our own community. I will keep being angry at how poorly us trans folks are treated with regards to our sex lives, bodies, and relationships between the two. I will keep loving and lusting over trans women without fetishizing them. And I will keep doing all of these til the day I die.

#taking a break from the late night funnies to get serious for a change #this is... sorta a vent post? idk.#please dont tag this with 'transmisogyny' i do not like that term #feel free to reblog though. if enough people are shitheads ill turn reblogs off but again i have hope we can be nice.#transmasculine folks please feel free to add anything else you feel is relevant! im writing from the perspective of a transfemme #who mostly spends time in transfem spaces and i obviously dont have the experiences of a transmasc so. yknow. add on if you have something #alright thats all for now back to your regularly scheduled sleepy/funny posting

127 notes · View notes

hyuukais · 9 months

Text

Waiting

Finally, after many busy weeks, you’d be getting to see your boyfriend again. Beomgyu was coming home for an entire weekend. However, you were still stuck at the worst part of his return, the waiting.

word count: 1.5k

genres: beomgyu x streamer!reader, slice of life, fluff, insinuations of angst

warnings: language, mentions of executive dysfunction, reader plays zelda specifically botw because i do not have totk 👎👎👎👎

author: FINALLY SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY !! hopefully i will have more content coming soon im just in a major slump atm 😔 also shoutout to @ssunnae & @bobariki sunny and rue thank you both so so much for beta-reading this !!

The colorful LEDs shift along the floorboards, currently a fog of purple misting the floor. Trickles of soft mood music set the low-light room into its sleepy atmosphere. Two large monitors illuminate your face in blue light, aided by a small ring light situated to your left. Amid the calm, an underwhelming rage slowly fizzles up in your throat.

“Oh come on; not right now, please!” The sudden battle music picking up in your headphones sends you into a panic as an enemy health bar appears at the top of the screen. Rain crashes on Link, lightning streaking across in pixels. Your fingers smash around frantically, trying to run away as the Lynel begins to draw its bow.

“Please please please please, don’t-” Unable to draw a weapon or get away, a hard strike lighting descends on the character. The hearts filling the top left of the screen go dark.

“God-fuck!” Red light blinds your eyes with the large “Game Over” fading onto the screen. Your head slams down onto the desk, the top of it all that’s left in view of the camera. The long-winded groan that leaves you is still picked up well by your mic. Chat messages fly fast along your monitor; many expressing their simple sympathy for your defeat, others instead laughing at the situation.

Slowly drawing yourself back up, you catch on the monitor displaying the stream and take a moment to look at everything. “Man…I know I said today was only gonna be Zelda but…this is already the 7th time I’ve died.” Your words trail into a whining laugh. More comments flood the chat. Some call out your terrible playing, some suggest other ideas for the rest of the stream, and many are just extremely off-topic.

“I’m not usually this bad! I don’t know what’s happening to me.” You were out of it today, unfocused, and part of you knew why. “I guess…I dunno, I think I’m just tired!”

This space-y feeling had been following you all day. It was the sort of distance your brain felt when experiencing executive dysfunction. Stuck in a loop of boredom; waiting for something, anything. Struggling to do anything, but still wanting to. Oftentimes, it was hard to discern a particular reason for the feeling, maybe burnout or simply worms in your brain. Today, however, you could easily guess the reason. Today, there was something to wait for. After more than a few weeks apart, Beomgyu would finally be coming over.

You and your boyfriend were both busy people; both public figures in your own right. Although, his schedule as an idol was arguably stricter than yours as a streamer. Between the end of the North America leg of the tour, preparing for their Japanese comeback, and the new single, you hadn’t seen Beomgyu face-to-face in close to a month. It was like spending a month in hell. A month without having his hands in yours, body wrapped in your arms, lips painting your skin, heartbeat beneath your fingers; the reminders that he was real and he was all yours. So, now that you’ll finally get him all to yourself for a whole weekend, your brain was searching for any way to skip to having him back in your arms. Hence, why Link has died more than five times by your incompetence.

“Maybe-uh-why don’t we switch gears? Maybe Zelda was a bad idea.” Considering your head space, streaming today in general may not have been the best of your ideas; you still felt bad for skimping out on a regularly scheduled stream. You also kind of hoped streaming would give you some distraction from sitting by the front door like a puppy.

You click around, filling the screen up with your face as you exit the game. “Hmm…what about…animal crossing? Minecraft? Thoughts, chat?”

You watched message after message fly by, all varying that you don’t actually reach a consensus with them.

“I think…hmm…” You watch a moment more, “Okay, I think we’re gonna do Minecraft.”

Once again, your face cam is moved to the corner as your PC feed takes up the stream. The ambient music takes over for your voice, filling up the silence as things load. Grass blocks and wood load in first before the sudden appearance of buildings. You spawn near a small farm you last left off building.

This wasn’t the world you usually streamed from; preferring the action a survival world provided for content. Actually, this was a world you’d created and built with Gyu, and some of the other members much after you invited them. Although, your audience didn’t need to know any of that. “I’m just going to stick to creative this time, chat. Something…calmer, y’know.”

Soon enough, you find yourself sinking into a rhythm with the music. You keep working on the farm you left unfinished, fixing it up with the build of a greenhouse. Little commentary is provided; small tidbits here and there as you casually speak to yourself. Humming to the music at times and finding some focus on small tasks.

Your headspace shifting from inattentive to hyper-fixated, you’re not particularly tuned into any noise besides what’s pumping in your head. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice the usual creak of the hallway floorboards or the awful squeaking of your office door. You don’t even see all of the chat messages taking note of those very things. Rarely looking away from the game, there’s no note in your mind of the torso slowly creeping up behind your chair; head just out of camera view, hands sneaking up to your headset.

It’s sudden, the relieving of pressure against your ears, the disappearance of your soft tunes, the realization that there is a person in your home and they are standing behind you.

Your scream is shrill and unending. The whiplash from how fast your turn around would have your head spinning if not for the new pumps of adrenaline coursing through you.

There, standing behind you, wearing the stupidest little cocky smile, is the cause of all your problems. Beomgyu was smart enough to keep his face just outside of the camera, hiding his identity from any viewers. Still, with pretty much the rest of him in frame, this is the largest glimpse your audience has ever gotten of your boyfriend. The chat reacts accordingly to such a realization.

You scramble around to mute your microphone and cover your camera; cutting off your connection as more and more chat messages fly faster along the screen. Nothing else matters though, as you spin your chair around to face the man looking down at you. He’s smiling still, eyes crinkled up and lips split wide. The way you leap at him sends him stumbling back.

Beomgyu’s hands come to cradle your back as you take him in your arms; feel him, his heat, his breath, the shake in his chest when he chuckles. His head settles upon yours. You squeeze his middle tighter and tighter and take in the depth of his scent. Head pressed against his chest, his heart beats softly in your ear.

“That…” You pull yourself away to get a look at his face, “was mean.”

He laughs as you slap at his arm; languorously boisterous, infectious with the happiness of his simple presence. A smile breaches your cheeks, soon enough, as well. Beomgyu’s hands tickle along your waist; keep you close, skin touching skin.

“It was a surprise.”

“More like a jumpscare!”

“Same difference.” His breath brushing your skin all this time finally comes ever closer. Douses you in his everything. A sweet peck on your lips, interrupted by a smile and a whisper. “I missed you.”

The fire of his words floods the pit of your stomach. His lips were barely pulled away from yours and yet that was too far. Your hands cupping his cheeks, pull him closer, filling your space with his. Breaths mingling with heavy words.

“I missed you, too.” You bring his mouth to yours; sway in his presence and feeling. Almost pulling away before more. “So much.”

Head tilted back, chest pressed into his, lips meeting in reverie. Beomgyu’s arms encase your waist; your fingers twirl in his hair. So soft, delicate, fluffy—so like him. Such is the kiss. Deep and sweet, nothing further than adoration. It’s intoxicating sugar; he’s delicious and addicting. His taste sticks to your lips as they leave his. Eyes still fluttered shut, taking in the disappearing feeling.

“I…have to finish off my stream.” You can barely stand to push him away, losing the soft brush of his thumb beneath the hem of your shirt, “You get yourself situated and I’ll be right there.”

The pout on his lips is nothing short of goading after losing your kiss. Still, he responds, although not without an eye roll. “Okay, but if you’re not done in 10 minutes, I get to choose the movie tonight!”

He plants a quick peck on your cheek before leaving you in the office. You have to laugh at how proud he is of that challenge as if you weren’t going to let him pick anyways. Though now, you may just have to get your own bit of payback and not leave him waiting.

318 notes · View notes

beginningofwonderland · 2 years

Text

Caffeine Addiction - Yunho

Pairing: YunhoxfemReader

Genre: smut, some fluff, comfort (MINORS DNI!)

Word count: 6.1k

Summary: You‘ve had a terrible day so you seek comfort at your favourite coffee shop and with your favourite barista. What you didn't expect was ending up beneath him shortly after.

(Pls I'm obsessed with coffee shop settings. Also I aimed for smut and this was way more comfort than planned lol. I'm getting soft.)

Warnings: slight size kink (I can't write Yunho without this I'm sorry), manhandling, fingering, unprotected sex and no discussion of protection (pls don't bang your local barista without protection), creampie

@underworldnet 👍🏻

The shop door swung open with the ding of a small bell. It rang like music in your ears. You visited the small coffee shop every morning before work to grab some coffee and you often came back for a piece of pastry in the afternoon.

The place was close to your office and therefore convenient. But even more than that, the small store had just really grown on you. The decor was lovely: an array of different pieces of furniture that all had a vintage vibe and magically matched each other. There were always fresh flowers on the tables and a large bookshelf decorated the back of the store.

Only adding to the shops charm was the staff. The place was owned by a very old lady, that was the cutest person you had ever met. She always gave you an extra big slice of your favourite cake and often packed you some pieces for free when you came before the store closed. But because of her growing age she started working less and less.

Instead her grandson covered more and more shifts at the cafe. They had a few part timers, but Yunho basically ran the store 24/7. He definitely came after his grandmother in terms of character. Just like always, when you entered today, he greeted you with a bright smile.

"Hello y/n! I'll get you your usual."

It had only taken him one week to ask for your name and never forget your favourite order ever again.

"Hello Yunho. Thank you!" You smiled back at him and already searched for your purse while he prepared your large americano. When he handed you the paper cup, it had a cute little puppy drawn onto it.

You smiled even brighter when you saw it. "You know I really wanted to get a reusable cup with the amount of coffee I drink, but then I wouldn't be able to get your little drawings anymore," you told him sulkingly.

He rested his elbows on the counter and looked at you with a playful grin. "We both know I can't let you go to work without seeing you smile over my drawings, angel."

A small blush crept up your cheeks at the nickname. Yunho was a huge flirt whenever you came to the store. At first you had thought that that was only his natural personality, but you've seen other people order often enough to know he only treated you this way. Maybe it drew you into the café even more than your caffeine addiction.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," you replied with a cheeky grin, carefully throwing your hair over your shoulder before handing Yunho the money for the drink.

"Have a great day at work and don't work overtime again," he said with a worrying undertone.

"I'll try not to," you responded, but you already knew you were lying. You always had to work overtime. "But you know how my boss is like..."

Visiting the cafe after work regularly, Yunho basically knew everything about your job at the media company: Your boss was a nightmare and the pay wasn't nearly enough for the amount of work you did. But you were too afraid to apply for something else. Too caught up in your messy routine.

"Take care of you, angel!" He insisted before you told him goodbye and left the store with the biggest smile on your face and a tingling feeling in your stomach.

────────────

When you returned to the shop in the evening, your mood was exactly the opposite of what it had been in the morning. It had started to rain and the water mixed with the tears that streamed down your face and smudged your mascara. Your neat dress was already clinging to your figure from the moisture.

You pushed open the door praying that no other costumers would be inside. The store would be closing in five minutes anyway. The familiar "ding" welcomed you but it didn't help to lift your spirit.

"Please, tell me you're still open," you said to Yunho who looked at you in shock. Your voice was weak and on the verge of breaking. Hearing how pathetic you sounded you already regretted your decision of going to the café.

Yunho put down a plate that he had just been holding and walked past the counter to greet you in worry.

"What happened to you, darling?" He wanted to take you into his arms so badly but he didn't want to cross any boundaries. So his hand went out to pat your shoulder compassionately.

"I had a terrible day," you sobbed out as you met his puppy eyes. "And I could really need a slice of that lemon pie right now..." you added in a sulking tone.

A small smile appeared on Yunho's face at the mention of your favourite treat. "You need to dry first. Sit down, angel. I'll get you a jacket."

Unable to disagree, you slumped down on one of the little sofas in the cafe as you watched Yunho go to the back of the store. When he returned he carried a big sweater jacket with him that he draped across your shoulders. Judging by the size and the smell of it, it was probably his own.

"Wait a second," he muttered gently and continued to dim the bright lights in the store and change the sign from "open" to "close". You felt terrible as you noticed how it was already time to close the shop.

"I'm so sorry, Yunho. I really only wanted to grab a piece of cake and head out again. I don't want you working any longer."

You started getting up from the sofa but he gently pushed you back down into your seat.

"Don't worry about me. I always have to stay longer to clean up anyways and I'm not letting you go outside like that." He seemed firm in his words and you felt warmed by his care.

"Do I look that bad?" you asked sadly.

Yunho almost seemed offended by your question. "You look gorgeous as always, angel. But you're literally shivering. I can't let you head out into the rain freezing like that."

You looked outside to hide your reddened cheeks. He was right. The rain had increased since you entered the store and you didn't bring a jacket or an umbrella to work with you.

"I should've checked the weather forecast," you sighed more to yourself.

You turned back around as you heard Yunho shuffle behind the counter. He was working on some kind of drink while also getting a big slice of lemon pie ready for you. You watched his skilled hands as they manoeuvred around the kitchen so naturally. You always thought he looked incredibly handsome like that: His face all concentrated as he moved between his equipment so smoothly.

When he came back and sat down next to you on the sofa, he put the cake and a mug before you. The beverage was decorated with cream and a heart made from sprinkled cinnamon. The cute gesture almost made you want to cry again.

"What is this?" you asked nodding towards the cup.

"Hot cocoa," he answered. "You shouldn't have more caffeine this late and chocolate makes you happy," he added with a bright smile that had you melting just like the hot treat.

"Thank you," you said gravely. "I really mean it."

"No worries, angel. Now tell me what happened to you."

And you went on to tell him about your terrible day while devouring your piece of cake. You had done this before; ranting about your work after a long day. And he was always there to listen to you and comfort you.

You told him how someone had bumped into you after your visit to the cafe and spilled coffee on your dress. How your boss made you work overtime again. And how finally, said boss yelled at you, because she didn't like your draft for a marketing proposal.

"And then it got too much for me and I got up from my chair and told her I'm quitting," you finally explained. "And then I came here in the rain because I needed some comfort."

The memory brought the tears back to your eyes. "I'm so stupid. I need that job, I can't just quit," you complained to yourself and grabbed a napkin to wipe away the tears that started spilling again.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Yunho replied warmly. When you looked up at him with tears still glimmering in your eyes and a sliver of hope at his words, he couldn't hold back any longer. He carefully laid his arm around your shoulder and pulled you to his chest.

He did it slowly, giving you time to back out and watching your reaction. But when you buried your face in his apron and wrapped your arms around his torso, he knew this was exactly what you needed.

After lingering in his embrace for a few seconds you backed off again, slightly embarrassed. But his arm stayed on your shoulders spending you a comfortable warmth.

"Sorry," you excused yourself while looking to the ground." But it just hit me that I won't be able to come into the cafe every morning if I work somewhere else."

Yunho's heart skipped a beat as you said that. You coming in every morning made his every day. At first he was hesitant to take over his grandma’s shop but after meeting you, he couldn't wait for his shifts to start and seeing you smile over his drawings on your coffee cup.

"Don't say that, angel. You'll find something close. And if you don't, I'll make you work here."

You laughed at his suggestion and took a sip of your hot chocolate. It was rich and smooth and easily the best hot chocolate you had ever tasted. When you sat the cup back down Yunho looked at you with an amused grin.

"What?" you asked in confusion.

"You have some cream on your lip." He gestured to his own to show you the spot. When you wiped your finger over it hastily he grinned even brighter.

"You only smudged it, dummy. Let me help you."

He reached his large hand out and you couldn’t help but let him wipe away the smudge of cream from your upper lip. As soon as his thumb touched your skin a shiver ran through your body. You suddenly noticed how close the two of you were with his arm still around you and it made you want to get rid of his jacket because of the heat that rose inside of you.

He kept the eye contact with you as he retreated his finger and slowly licked the cream of his thumb with that mind-numbingly handsome smirk. You had to keep your eyes from rolling back into your skull at the sight, instead having your lashes flutter.

You always knew Yunho had a lasting effect on you but right now you were almost overwhelmed by how intense he made you feel.

"I should head back home," you mumbled quickly, wanting to escape before you did something stupid. Your temperament was already unpredictable today.

A small flicker of disappointment rushed over Yunho's face before he smiled at you again. "It's still pouring outside. You can't go all the way home like that."

He knew you lived far enough away that you had to take the bus and walk for a while to reach your apartment. You looked outside again and realised he was once again right. You sighed.

"I can't keep you in the store for forever though," you said apologizingly.

"No, but you could come home with me." You looked at him in surprise. "Until the rain stops of course. I live close," he added shyly while scratching the back of his neck.

You smiled to yourself. Was the Jeong Yunho getting shy after shamelessly flirting with you every single day you came in here?

You wanted to go with him. You had liked him for as long as he worked there and you talked to him every day. And with your day already being all over the place you decided to be brave once more and do what you actually wanted to do. Just like quitting your terrible job, you made your move on the handsome barista.

"I'd like that." You accompanied your answer with a flirty smile and you could swear that you saw Yunho visibly swallowing.

"Okay, let me just put everything away real quick."

He almost jumped out of his chair, grabbing your plate and now empty cup before going back behind the counter. You had never seen him that rushed before, usually he was always relaxed.

After only a few minutes he seemed to have finished every task he needed to do and looked at you in half disbelief.

"I'll get us an umbrella."

You heard some rummaging in the back room and finally Yunho emerged with an umbrella. "You ready?" he asked with a shy smile.

"Sure," you answered your heart beating out of your chest. You couldn't believe your were going home with him. A bubbling excitement ran through you as you looked at him.

Yunho walked out of the store first to open the umbrella and let you walk under it as soon as you stepped outside. He closed the door behind you and locked it with a huge set of keys. Because the umbrella was rather small, his tall figure was standing close to you, his chest facing you when he finished locking the cafe up.

Like the gentleman he was he offered you his arm and you weaved yours around it with a blush on your face. His other hand was holding the umbrella and you had the suspicion, that he was only shielding you from the rain with it , as you watched the border of his shirt slowly soak.

"You know you're supposed to use that to save yourself from getting wet?" you teased him while nodding at the umbrella.

"Don't worry about me, darling. It's not far and my priority is getting you there dry."

You still shifted a little closer to him, so that the umbrella would automatically cover him a little more.

It felt nice to walk beside him. His strong arm guiding you and his presence making you feel safe. Usually you always worried walking alone in the evening, but around the tall male you could enjoy the fresh night air. You wondered how you would look to someone watching you from afar; probably like a couple walking home together. The thought stirred up butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Right here," Yunho suddenly announced and stopped in front of an apartment building. He opened the door quickly and released your arm, letting you enter the dry entry hall before him. He closed the umbrella and followed you inside.

"There's an elevator but it got stuck twice this year so I'd recommend the stairs."

"I don't mind," you answered, even though your feet were hurting from the heels you wore.

He led you up two staircase and down the hallway before entering his apartment. After he flicked on the lights you could see that the entryway led directly into his open living room. You removed your heels at the door and couldn't suppress a sigh as your feet were finally freed. Yunho noticed your exhausted expression and looked at you with compassion.

"Make yourself comfortable on the couch, okay? I'll just get rid of my apron and then I'll join you."

You hadn't even noticed that he was still wearing his work uniform. You nodded at him and sat yourself down at the couch. You let your eyes wander around the room curiously. He had very neat and modern furniture, almost the exact opposite of how the coffee shop looked like. Still it felt warm inside and inviting. Maybe it was just his personal aura.

As you looked outside you noticed that the rain was still pouring and it didn't look like it would end soon. You were basically stuck at his place. Listening to the steady sound of the raindrops hitting the window you found yourself thinking about your terrible day once again.

You couldn't believe that you had quit your job so carelessly. Burying your face in your hands, you took a deep breath to calm the panic rising inside of you.

"Are you ok?" Yunho asked softly. You hadn't noticed him coming back. He had changed into a casual grey tshirt that was accentuating his broad frame.

"Yeah, sure." But he saw right through your lies.

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry again?" He asked sadly. "Please, don't cry again. I can't watch your beautiful face stained with tears."

You were shocked by the intensity of his words and watched him as he sat down beside you.

"Why do you care so much about me, Yunho? You didn't have to do any of this for me." You gestured to the room around you, hinting at him taking you home to protect you from the rain. "I'm just a stupid girl that has an addiction to coffee and visits your store everyday."

You swallowed a lump at your own harsh words. When his eyes turned sad you couldn't bear to look at him any longer and turn your head to the side. But Yunho slid closer to you on the couch and gently turned your head back around by your chin. His fingers still resting there he said:

"Listen to me: You're not stupid. And I do this because I care about you. We talk every day. Every morning and sometimes even in the afternoon for the past what? Like 6 months. I like you Y/n and I know you don't come to the coffee shop just because of the caffeine either."

There it was again. That handsome, flirty smirk that always adorned him around you. It quickened your heartbeat in an instant and made you smile in return. A sudden surge of heat ran through your stomach as you processed his words.

"Then what do I come there for?" you challenged him with raised brows.

"The most handsome barista in the city," he answered cockily and you couldn't help but giggle.

"You might be on to something..." you replied holding the eye contact with him now.

Yunho's gaze flicked down to your lips before focussing on your eyes once again. His fingers still grasping your chin.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked in a husky tone and your eyes fluttered shut for a second.

"Please do," you replied eagerly.

His hand wandered from your chin to gently cup your cheek and he pulled you closer to him. You saw a smirk tugging on his lips just moments before your lips met.

Yunho's lips were so incredibly soft and warm. Kissing him felt like being comforted on a cold day which was exactly what he was doing. His other hand moved into your hair, gently stroking you as he deepened the kiss.

You leaned into his touch and brought your hand up to rest on his chest. Your head was already spinning. You had your fair share of kisses before but this one felt different. It was so intense and comforting yet still exciting. Adrenaline rushed through your body as his tongue entered your mouth and a small groan left you.

The sound made Yunho's fingers twitch and he let his tongue play with your mouth, occasionally sucking on your bottom lip. You wanted to be closer to him but the awkward position of you two sitting next to each other didn't allow you that. You shifted your weight and put one leg over Yunho's lap, straddling him without breaking the kiss.

Now it was a Yunho who released a groan. "I've been wanting to do this for months, baby," he mumbled in between kisses.

The petname and the deep tone of his voice made you shiver. You were used to him calling you sweet things but he's never called you baby before. "Me too," you replied hastily, the kiss turning messy in between your muttered words.

On of his arms snaked around your waist and drew circles through the fabric of your dress. With the sudden heat rising in you, you quickly shuffled off Yunho's jacket that you were still wearing before burying your hands in his dark hair. As you tucked on his strands lightly, he moaned into the kiss.

"You drive me so crazy, baby." His mouth wandered from your lips to your neck and you let your head fall back to give him more access. "Looking so pretty every morning when you come into the shop."

His sweet words made you giggle and warmed you from the inside out. "You should have made a move on me earlier then," you teased him. He retreated from your neck and looked at you with dark eyes, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, I should've bend you over the counter in one of your pretty little skirts when noone was watching. Would've woken you up better than coffee anyway."

You moan at his dirty words and if you were standing right now, your knees would've given out underneath you.

"Make me yours, Yunho."

His lips attacked yours in a feverish kiss as his hands grabbed your thighs. He stood up from the couch, carrying you in a tight embrace towards what you suspected was his bedroom. He kicked open the door harshly and you could hear it thumb against the wall behind. But when he laid you onto his bed he was the exact opposite; gently lowering onto the soft mattress so that you wouldn't get hurt.

You pulled him on top of you by the collar of his shirt and he propped up his hands next to your head to not crush you. The way he hovered above you made you realize just how much taller he was. His broad frame took in all of your viewspace.

"I could get used to having you underneath me like this," he said, taking in the way your hair spread around you and the bottom of your dress riding up your thighs.

"Treat me well and you can have me like this everyday," you replied, eyes looking up at him through your lashes.

He groaned before crushing his lips onto yours. "I'll make you never want to leave," he growled into the kiss.

This time he was a little bit more harsh with you. His lips pressed your head into the mattress and his hand reached out to grab your waist, tugging your body closer to him and making your back arch.

You loved how he could move your body so easily. Your hands wandered from his broad chest to his arms as you explored this way his muscles flexed when he held you. Yunho was breathtaking. From his handsome face to his strong build and his big hands. Everything about him captured your attention.

When his hand wandered down to your thigh you couldn’t help but moan as his slender fingers massaged your skin. His hand was so large that it covered your entire thigh and the feeling made you even weaker beneath him. You have never wanted someone that much in your entire life.

You tugged on his shirt as Yunho deepened the kiss and he chuckled. "Wanna see more of me, baby? Should I take it off?" He looked at you through dark eyes and you nodded shyly. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in a swift motion.

You knew he was fit. So much was evident through the tight shirts and even the apron he usually wore at work. But now that you saw all of his muscles dancing beneath his skin you felt tiny in his embrace.

"You look so fucking hot," you breathed out and for a second his dark gaze was replaced by a shy giggle.

"Can I see you too, beautiful?" he asked gently, his hand running over the hem of your dress.

"You can see all of me that you want," you replied in a seductive tone as you sit up and turn your back to him. The zipper of your dress sat on the back and you hoped he would get the hint.

His fingers wander up your back before grasping onto the zipper. When he pulled it down slowly shivers ran down your skin. He didn't make them stop when he slid his hands under the dress and slowly slipped the sleeves of your arms while littering wet kisses along your neck.

The dress now pooling at your hips you laid back into his strong figure and breathed heavily as his fingers ghosted over your skin. They halted right beneath your lace bra and you urged Yunho to go on.

"Please touch me, Yunho. I need you so much."

He groaned into your neck as his hands cupped your breasts over the bra. It didn’t take long before he opened the clasp of your bra as well, exposing your top half completely.

"You feel even better than I imagined," he breathed into your ears huskily as his fingers grazed over your hardened nipples. The touch made you clench around nothing and drew a small moan from you. You turned your head to the side so that he could kiss you while caressing your breasts. The way he hovered above you made heat pool between your legs and you grabbed his face hungrily.

Finally, Yunho turned you around again, laying you back on the bed and pulling the dress down your legs. His eyes were glazed over as he looked at you, admiring your almost completely naked form.

His hand slid between your thighs, rubbing you over the thin material of your panties. You sucked in a harsh breath and shifted your hips to press yourself onto his fingers.

"You're already soaking through your panties," Yunho assessed with a satisfied grin. "I still need to prep you though. You look way too tiny to just take me like this."

He shoved your panties to the side and let two of his long fingers slide into you. The feeling was heavenly. He reached places inside of you that you didn't even know existed and it only took him a few seconds to find that spot that made your hips buckle beneath him.

"Right there, Yunnie," you moaned beneath him.

"Yunnie?" he chuckled. "I put my fingers into you for two seconds and you're already calling me nicknames."

You loved that sassy side of him, he was teasing you but not too much. His fingers increased their pace and a tight feeling of pleasure build up in your lower stomach.

"That's a good girl, now take just one more." A third finger entered you but the praise overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt. You were already a whining, moaning mess beneath him and he was only starting.

"That's it, tiny," he growled and hovered closer to your face to watch your facial expressions. "You feeling good?"

"Fuck, yes," was all you could blurt out while you neared your orgasm, his fingers made you putty in his hands, hitting all the right spots.

Right before you felt like you might burst, he pulled them out of you. You whined at the loss of contact and stared at him through pleading eyes.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll make you come on something even better." You could only watch him through hazy eyes as he finally got rid of his jeans and boxers, revealing his hardened cock. He was clearly the biggest you've ever had and you couldn't wait for him to fuck you stupid on his damn big cock.

He gently tucked your panties down your legs and hovered above you.

"Ready for me, baby?"

"Yes," you answered and grabbed onto his arms when he started pushing himself into you. He stretched you out quite a bit but his fingers had worked you up enough for it not to hurt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he finally bottomed out inside of you and hit your sweet spot with the tip of his cock.

He groaned as he started thrusting himself into you at a slow pace. "God damn, you're so tight for me baby."

His thrusts slowly sped up and you started arching your back to give him an even deeper angle. The change had Yunho shivering above you and he quickly grabbed one of your legs to pull it above his shoulder and pound into you even deeper.

At this point the room was starting to fill with the sounds of his skin slapping onto yours and your heavy breaths mixing with irrepressible moans. You couldn't do anything but stare into his darkened eyes as he fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm. When one of his pretty hands started drawing circles onto your clit your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Like that, baby?"

"Please, Yunho, pleas..." You couldn't even answer his question. Only begs left your mouth as you felt your high approaching.

"Come for me, beautiful. You look so pretty all fucked out on my cock."

His words finally threw you over the edge. Goosebumps littered your skin as you held onto his arms and felt the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm washing over you. He fucked you through it slowly, admiring how your face reacted to the feeling.

When you seemed to recover Yunho pulled out of you and gently rolled you onto your side. He then slipped behind you and entered you again from behind. This angle was even deeper than before and you moaned shamelessly as he started fucking you like this; his lips buried into your neck and his hands holding on to your hips.

When one of his hands wandered onto your stomach you heard a deep groan from Yunho.

"I can feel myself through your tummy, tiny." You blinked at his words, absolutely perplexed until you looked down and could watch Yunho quite literally fucking you to the point that your lower stomach bulged out. The sight drew the most desperate whine from you and Yunho picked up the tempo once more.

"You like being that small next to me? Want to come on my big cock again?"

"Fuck yes, Yunnie."

He buried his head in your neck while fucking you even deeper. His heavy breaths so close to your ear had you going insane and you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"Please, make me come," you whined as you arched your back to press yourself even closer to him.

With the way his grip on your hips tightened, you were sure he was close to coming as well. He still managed to release one of his hands and let it massage your clit again, determined to draw another orgasm from you.

"Tell me where I should come first," Yunho growled into your ear and the strained tone of his voice sent you flying towards your release already.

"Come inside of me, Yunnie. Please! Just make me yours."

You felt him twitch at your words as he continued to work his fingers on your sweet spot.

"Then come for me pretty thing and I'll fill you up nicely."

That was your last straw. Your orgasm crashed over you and your ears started ringing from the overwhelming pressure. You grinded down onto Yunho's hips to ride out your high as high pitched moans kept tumbling out of your mouth. Your motions tipped Yunho over the edge as well and he clutched onto your hips as his cock started to twitch, releasing ropes of warm cum deep inside of you.

The feeling of it filling you up made you want to drool. You never wanted him to move again. You wanted to stay in his arms like this forever. Like his.

Still he slowly released you after a while of the two of you just catching your breath.

"I'll get something to clean you up, baby," he announced as he slipped out of you. You felt cold as soon as he was gone. But Yunho didn't let you wait long before he returned with a wet cloth, cleaning you up carefully while littering kisses on your dampened skin in between. When he was done he cradled you into his arms, your head lying comfortably on his broad chest.

"I promise I wanted to ask you out on a date first but I guess we skipped a few steps."

You chuckled in response. "I don't mind at all. You were fucking amazing. I'd still take that date though."

He kissed the top of your head as his hands stroked your back softly. "So you meant that part about me making you mine?"

You lifted your head to look into his warm eyes. "I did."

You fell asleep like that, curled up in his arms, listening to the sound of the rain that had brought you two together in the first place.

────────────

When you woke up the next morning, Yunho was gone. But there was a note next to you on the bed:

I didn't want to wake you, but I had to open the shop. Please come by when you're awake!!!

It was signed with one of his little puppy drawings and your heart fluttered at the sight. You hurried to get yourself ready before heading out to the cafe.

Today, the weather was on your side. The rain had stopped and a warm breeze was blowing through the streets as you made your way to the shop with light steps.

The doorbell rang like music in your ears as you entered the cafe. The first thing you saw was Yunho. His bright smile beamed at you from behind the cash register, lighting up the entire room like sunshine. It was like all the other people inside blurred into the background.

He mumbled something to his coworker that helped in the morning shifts before walking around the counter towards you. You didn't even realize you were smiling like an idiot as well until he swept you up into a warm hug and pressed his lips onto yours.

You soaked yourself in this moment, his soft lips on yours and his warmth healing you from the inside out.

„Did you sleep well, angel?" he asked you warmly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. In this moment you really questioned yourself for not noticing earlier that he had a thing for you. He looked so utterly and wholehearted in love that there was no way not to notice.

„I slept perfectly. Except for you not being there."

„I'm sorry. I had to open the shop," he excused himself.

„I know, don't worry."

You looked at him admiringly for a few seconds.

„I have something for you," Yunho suddenly announced and his took your hand to drag you towards the counter.

„You want a coffee, right?" he asked and you were surprised about the question.

„Why else would I be here," you joked and he gave you a pout as he worked on the coffee machine. You wondered what he wanted to show you.

When he finished the coffee and brought it to you you noticed it was not your usual paper cup or one of the shops porcelain cups. It was a clean white reusable to-go cup. Just like you had wanted to get for months. Your heart warmed as you realized he must have gotten this for you a while ago already. But there was one flaw about it.

„But what about your drawings?" you asked afraid that you'll never get his cute little messages on your morning coffee ever again.

„It's a whiteboard cup," he explained with a proud smile. „You can write on it with an erasable marker. Turn it around!"

You turn the cup on the counter until you can see his neat handwriting.

I love you.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

Pleaaaseeee feel free to leave me comments or write in my asks I love to hear your thoughts!!! :)

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #beginningofwonderland #yunho smut #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #smut fanfic #ateez fanfiction #yunho x you

2K notes · View notes