#except in more complicated and emotional wording

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 21/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 3377

A/N: This is part 21 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, the tumult of emotions swirling within you threatened to overwhelm you. Jay's presence in your life had brought moments of joy and comfort, but now faced with the prospect of intimacy, you found yourself grappling with feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

Your mind wandered back to Ben, his absence palpable yet his memory hauntingly present. Could you truly move forward with someone else, knowing the lingering shadow of Ben hung over you?

The sound of Jay's voice outside the bathroom door broke through your reverie, a reminder of the present moment and the person waiting on the other side. Part of you longed to confide in him, to share the inner turmoil consuming you, but another part hesitated, fearing his reaction and the potential fallout of your honesty.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?". His tone was gentle, laced with concern. "You seem… off. Is there something you want to talk about?".

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Jay's genuine concern only served to amplify the turmoil within you. How could you explain the maelstrom of emotions churning inside your chest without delving into the depths of your past?

"I'm… I'm fine", you replied, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just… dealing with some things".

There was a moment of silence before Jay spoke again, his tone softer now, filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you".

His words tugged at something deep within you, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

"I know", you murmured. "I just… need some time to sort things out".

You stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes red.

"C´mere", he whispered.

Feeling Jay’s arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, you let out a shaky breath, momentarily finding solace in his warmth. But his next words shattered the fragile calm that had settled over you.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling”, Jay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held you close. “It’s like… I’m all in, you know? But sometimes it feels like you’re… not as committed to this as I am. I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like you don't really want the whole thing”.

His words hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface of your relationship. You swallowed hard, the guilt of withholding your true feelings threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice tinged with regret. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s just… complicated”.

Jay pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours for answers. “Complicated how?”, he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes urged you to be honest.

“There’s… someone else”, you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Was someone else, I… I don´t know. It´s someone from my… past, I guess. And I… I’m still trying to figure out what that means for me… for us”.

Jay’s expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “I see”, he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “I guess I always knew there was something more”.

You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea for understanding. “It’s not that I don’t care about you”, you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s just… complicated”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your confession hanging heavily between you.

Feeling Jay’s gaze fixed on you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share a glimpse of the tangled web that had ensnared your heart.

“We had… a connection, a deep one. But things didn’t end well”.

Jay listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And now”, you whispered, the words barely “now I’m here, with you. But… but part of me still feels tied to him, to what we had”.

Jay looked down at you, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of compassion and uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're ready for a new relationship?", he asked. "I mean, if part of you still feels tied to him… it's okay to take more time to figure things out".

Your heart ached at his words, the truth of his question hitting you with a force you hadn't anticipated. Were you truly ready to move on, to fully commit to a new relationship?

You shrugged, unable to meet Jay's gaze as a pang of guilt washed over you. "I don't know", you admitted. "I want to be, but… it's hard".

A flicker of hurt crossed Jay's features at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly as he struggled to mask his disappointment. "I understand", he said quietly, though the pain in his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. "I just… I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you… for us".

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to ease the ache you had caused. "I'm sorry", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you".

Jay enveloped you again in a gentle embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of your own indecision. "It's okay", he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "We'll figure it out together, okay?".

And as you clung to him, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on you.

With everything swirling in your mind, you felt as though you were losing yourself in the chaos. The person you once knew, the one who had made promises and believed in love, seemed like a distant memory now.

After letting yourself in with Ben, you were pretending to be someone you weren't. And now, with Jay, you had thrown yourself into a new relationship, hoping to find solace in his kindness and affection. But in the process, you were hurting him, and the realization cut you to the core.

As Jay held you close, offering comfort and understanding despite the turmoil within you, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at your insides. How could you continue to deceive him, to pretend that everything was fine when you were barely holding yourself together?

More tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in Jay's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging within you. "I don't know who I am anymore", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. "It's okay", he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We'll figure it out together. Just… be honest with me, okay? That's all I ask".

You nodded against his chest.

Jay held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently brushed his hand over your back, soothing the ache that had settled deep within you.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "When was the last time you visited your mom, or your family? Or at least met with some friends?".

His question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the isolation that had gradually encroached upon your life in recent weeks. You thought back, trying to recall the last time you had reached out to anyone outside of your interactions with Jay, but the memory eluded you.

"I… I don't know", you admitted. "It's been a while. I've been so caught up in everything… I guess I lost track of time".

Jay's embrace tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loneliness that had crept into your life unnoticed. "Maybe… maybe it's time to reach out to them. They care about you, you know?".

Again you nodded against his chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

Jay pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Come on", he said softly, his voice tender as he gently pulled away from your embrace. "Let's go back to the living room".

As you settled back onto the couch, Jay wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close as if to reassure himself of your presence. His touch was gentle, yet persistent, as he continued to brush his hand over your arm in a comforting gesture.

With each stroke, a sense of calm washed over you, the weight of your worries momentarily lifted by Jay's unwavering affection. Just like it has been for the last few weeks.

As you nestled into his embrace, Jay let out a soft sigh, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I think… I think you need to figure out your feelings", he murmured, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't want to push you into anything, but… I really like you. And… and I do not want to lose you. Whether as a girlfriend or just a friend".

His admission hung in the air, a vulnerable confession of his own desires and fears. You turned to look at him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze as he continued.

"So maybe… maybe we can take it slow", Jay suggested, his voice tentative yet hopeful. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can just… see where things go".

His words resonated within you, a gentle reminder that healing and growth often came with time and patience. You nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over you as you leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For understanding".

Jay smiled softly, his fingers kept tracing soothing circles on your arm. "Always", he replied. "I'm here for you, no matter what".

In the days that followed, Jay and you spent countless hours talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on a deeper level. His presence became a source of comfort and stability, grounding you in the midst of uncertainty.

With each conversation, you felt pieces of yourself falling back into place, like a puzzle slowly being reassembled. Jay's patience and understanding gave you the space to explore your feelings and rediscover the person you once were.

One day, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and belonging, you suggested visiting the team again. Jay readily agreed, eager to meet the people who had played such a significant role in your life.

After introducing Jay to the others, everyone told you about the latest events, gave you an update on Homelander, and told you what it was like in the executive suite at Vought. Despite the distance and time apart, the bond you shared with them remained as strong as ever.

As the evening stretched on, you found yourselves gathered at a cozy bar with Hughie, Annie and Jay. Annie told you about her temporary leading position at vought.

You listened with admiration as she described the challenges and triumphs of her new role, marveling at her resilience and determination. Despite the pressures she faced, Annie seemed to thrive in the leadership position.

Meanwhile, Jay struck up a conversation with Hughie, the two of them quickly hitting it off. They exchanged stories and shared laughs, bonding over their mutual interests and experiences. You watched with a smile as Jay's easygoing charm drew Hughie out of his shell, the two of them becoming fast friends.

After a while, Annie led you to the bar to get some new drinks, the lively chatter of Hughie and Jay faded into the background, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you waited for the bartender to take your order, Annie leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"So, what's the deal with you and Jay?", she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have to say, I really like him. You've definitely hit a good one".

You smiled weakly, grateful for Annie's support but unable to shake the weight of your own uncertainty. "He's great", you admitted, your voice tinged with hesitation. "But… I'm still trying to figure things out".

Annie nodded in understanding, her expression sympathetic. "I get it", she said softly. "But just know that Jay really cares about you. And if anyone can help you through whatever you're going through, it's him".

You sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know", you murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I just wish things weren't so… complicated".

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“You need to forget about Ben”, she insisted, her tone firm. “He’s not worth your time or your heartache. You have someone amazing right in front of you, someone who genuinely cares about you”.

You nodded, knowing deep down that Annie was right. But as much as you wanted to let go, the pull of your feelings for Ben remained stubbornly strong.

“I know”, you replied softly, your voice filled with resignation. “But it’s not that easy. Ben… he made me feel things no one else ever could, or ever will”.

Annie rolled her eyes, her disdain for Ben evident in the way her lips curled into a frown. “Yeah, well, he was also a huge dick most of the time”, she muttered under her breath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her bluntness. “That’s true”, you admitted with a rueful smile. “But despite everything, there was still something about him…”.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. “But you deserve someone who treats you right”.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I know Ben wasn't always ideal", you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "But he… he literally risked his life for me so many times… We, he, was special. We had something special".

"If there was really something special, he wouldn't have just left", she said bluntly, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

The truth in Annie's words cut deep, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You knew she was right, that Ben's departure had left a gaping hole in your heart that seemed impossible to fill. But despite the pain, a part of you couldn't let go of the memories, the moments of connection and intimacy that had once brought you so much joy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond."But… it's not that simple…".

Annie reached out to you, her touch gentle as she wiped away your tears. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, that's all".

As you walked back to the table with Annie by your side, you couldn't shake the weight of her words echoing in your mind. With a heavy heart, you stole a glance at her, a silent plea for comfort and understanding.

"He didn't even say goodbye", you mumbled, the bitterness of the truth lingering on your tongue.

"He's just an asshole", she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But he… had his reasons", you replied quietly, thinking about russia, though even you weren't entirely convinced by your own words.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she linked her arm with yours. "Maybe", she conceded, her voice softening. "But that doesn't excuse the way he treated you. You deserve better than that".

In the apartment, Butcher, MM and Frenchie sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Frenchie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t like lying to (y/n)”, he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with guilt.

Butcher let out a frustrated groan, his frustration palpable in the air. “If (y/n) knew we had captured Soldier Boy, she’d be on the next flight to free him”, he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness.

MM glanced between his companions, his expression grave. “We can’t risk it”, he said firmly, his voice a quiet reminder of the stakes at hand.

Frenchie let out a frustrated grunt, his unease bubbling to the surface. "If that ever comes out, (y/n) will hate us all", he muttered.

Butcher's jaw tightened at the thought, his frustration boiling over into anger. "She won't find out", he snapped, his tone harsh and uncompromising. "No one is spilling the beans, understand?".

MM nodded in agreement, his expression solemn as he met Butcher's steely gaze. "We'll keep our mouths shut", he affirmed. "He wasn't good for her, Frenchie. He just used her".

But Frenchie shook his head adamantly, his brow furrowed with disagreement. "I don't think so", he interjected, his voice firm with conviction. "I think he really did love her".

Butcher scoffed at Frenchie's assertion, his skepticism evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. "Love? That's a load of rubbish", he retorted, his tone dismissive. "He's a bloody supe, Frenchie. They don't know the first thing about love".

Frenchie bristled at Butcher's words. "Clearly you didn't see the way he looked at her", he countered. "There was something real there, I'm telling you".

MM glanced between Butcher and Frenchie, a troubled expression crossing his features. "Maybe", he conceded reluctantly. "But even if he did love her, it doesn't change the fact that he's a liability now. We can't afford to have him jeopardize us".

Turning back towards Annie, you couldn't shake the nagging question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. "But don't you think it's strange he didn't even say goodbye?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, we were kinda friends, right?".

Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "Friends?", she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "You're for real, (y/n)?".

You flushed slightly, taken aback by Annie's reaction. "Well, maybe not friends exactly," you admitted sheepishly. "But we… we had something".

Until now, you hadn't told anyone how much had actually happened between you and Ben, even if everyone could already guess.

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she shook her head. "I don't know what you had with Ben", she replied, her tone softer now. "But whatever it was, it's over now. You deserve better than someone who would just up and leave without a word".

Despite your best efforts to move forward, being back with the team brought a flood of emotions rushing back, intensifying the ache of missing Ben. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper his name, every familiar face a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared.

You found yourself lost in memories, replaying moments spent with Ben in your mind like a broken record. His absence felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of your reality, a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

And as you navigated through the days, the longing for Ben weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the most joyous moments. Despite the passage of time, the pain of his absence remained raw and unyielding.

And as you struggled to reconcile the past with the present, you couldn't shake the feeling that despite your best efforts, you were still trapped in a cycle of longing and loss.

———————————

A/N: I hope this chapter makes you feel a little better :D There's still so much planned guys, just wait. Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher

[vidavidee]

little guys from the past couple weeks.. i hit em with the deltarune beam

#doodley #tpn #okwarning there is a lot of tags below where i talk excessively about choosing characters in these dumb sketches #OK I NEED TO TALK ABOUT MY CHARACTER CHOICES QUICKLY #I mostly drew the kris/emma + ray/susie + norman/ralsei trio #HOWEEVERRR I THINk there is a lot of other options that also work!!! like.. simply going by colour #i could do ray/ralsei + emma/susie + norman/kris . Which does work imo.. but i think character wise it gets more complicated #because kris works for norman in the sense of acting as a vessel for someone else .. its just in a very literal sense for kris #but i think ray fits kris better because he also acted under the control/to help of others !!! like that was his life plan jsddsk #+ the way kris. stays generally apathetic aside from the moments when they detach themself from the player #like aaaughugh words. characters that are forced 2 repress all of themselves and act as a vessel for others except for the few moments #where they act out angrily because they've been made to constantly live under somebody else's control n dont have an outlet for emotions #<- more ray than kris but i think that the comparison works ehghehg.. #ray could also work as susie with her whole going against the other 2 of the trio and doing things in a more efficient but 'violent' way #plus her whole traumatized kid becomes harsh n rude in order to keep other people away thing #but she works for emma too methinks... more just on surface level stubbornness though #ralsei as norman is like. yea they dont match up in a good few aspects but they both have the same Boy made of wet cardboard energy 2 me #+ i think its silly to make his hair thing into horns :3 #in the end i drew the trio i drew cause it was what first came to mind & i guess it made sense from a silly art perspective to do #protag as protag.. even if emma is the least 'kris' visually its like yaeaea recognizable trio thing. ok done #the promised neverland

[chibieggplant]

Law falls for you slow and steady

Trafalgar law Headcanons | When he has a crush on you

Law's crush on you manifests slowly and subtly. It starts with him noticing the way your eyes light up when discussing something you're passionate about or the kindness you show to others.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, only to quickly avert his gaze when you catch him. Law tries to act cool and collected about it, but his crewmates soon start noticing him staring dreamily at you and you can bet they tease him mercilessly about it.

Law's normally precise and focused nature becomes slightly scattered when he's in your presence. He might find himself lost in thought, daydreaming about cute or romantic scenarios involving you, only to snap back to reality with an embarrassed expression.

Despite his tough exterior, Law is not immune to unintentionally blushing furiously or getting flustered around you. Compliment him or praise his skills as a doctor / fighter and he will turn into a stuttering mess.

Whenever you're around, Law's usually calm and collected demeanor becomes a bit more chaotic as he tries to hide his nerves. Suddenly he turns into Corazon and is now tripping over his feet and accidentally bumping into things.

Law's attempts at flirting with you are often hilariously awkward, he's not used to expressing his emotions openly. His deadpan delivery and bluntness don’t help his case either. Penguin tried to give him advice on how to be more romantic but it often comes out wrong. “You’re like the North Star in my chaotic sea of life…except, I’m not lost or anything. Just metaphoricaly…speaking.”

He often attempts to make conversation with you…key word being attempt “So um…did you hear about that new medical breakthrough? It’s fascinating stuff. Way less complicated than…emotions…did you know that the human heart beats around 100,000 times a day?”

He protective side comes out around you, subtly keeping an eye on you during battles or dangerous situations, ensuring you're safe without drawing too much attention to it…Though it’s painfully obvious to everyone else when the poster boy for sticking to the plan diverts his plan just to help you.

Law often overreacts when you have even the slightest injury or ailment, treating it as a major medical emergency. His crewmates find it amusing how he switches instantly into "doctor mode" for the smallest of issues when it comes to you. You have a small cut on your arm? He insists it needs to be sterilised immediately, let him look at it, it might need stitches.

As Law's feelings deepen, he finds himself drawn to your company more and more. He starts seeking opportunities to spend time together, whether it's finally coming out of his office to join you for lunch, or stealing you away to discuss strategies for upcoming missions because he needs your input…he doesn’t, he just hasn’t spoken to you in the past hour and he misses you.

Law's crewmates, particularly Bepo and Penguin, become keen observers of his behavior around you. They notice the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the way his gaze softens when he looks at you, and the genuine smiles that grace his usually stoic face in your presence.

Bepo, becomes his unintentional wingman, trying to nudge him closer to you whenever possible. Though his attempts often just make Law stumble into you. Bepo pushes him to compliment you “Doesn’t y/ns hair look nice today captain? Tell her it looks nice” *cue the adorable bear eyes that Law can’t say no to*

Over time, as your relationship deepens, Law might find the courage to subtly hint at his feelings, although he remains cautious about how you might respond. He’s already lost someone he loves once he can’t lose you too.

He starts leaving small gifts or tokens of affection for you in your room, though he would never admit they were from him. His gifts often end up being quirky or unconventional items that reflect his personality, like a tiny model of the Polar Tang or a cute plushie of Bepo.

Regardless of his reserved nature, Law's crush on you brings out a softer side of him. Over time, as trust and mutual understanding deepen between you and Law, he begins to open up more to you. He find himself sharing personal stories and memories of his past with you.

Despite being a former warlord, Law becomes a bit of a nervous wreck when he tries to confess his feelings to you. He rehearses his lines multiple times in the mirror, only to end up blurting out something completely different.

“You know I’ve performed countless surgeries but trying to fix my heart after meeting you is the toughest one yet…wait, that sounded smoother in my head. What I meant is that it seems that I have a significant affection coefficient towards you…dammit! I mean, I-i really like you a lot!”

Law’s crush on you blossoms into true love, he cherishes the bond you have that’s built on trust, respect and genuine care. You become a source of joy and lightheartedness during his chaotic days, bringing much needed colour and love to his life.

#trafalgar law #law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece headcanons #headcanons

[bloompompom]

rebounding; one-shot

“Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

✧ content: ~10.5k words. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/roommate au. reader is dumped by unnamed boyfriend for "plot" purposes (what plot?), lighthearted with slight hurt/comfort + angst, complicated feelings, pure filth, eren’s bad with emotions but so are you, rough sex, praise, dirty talk, 'pretty girl' as a pet name, mentions of masturbation, light overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only

It was little more than a passing thought when Eren realized he hadn’t seen you since he’d been home. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, considering your boyfriend’s shoes strewn near the front door—Eren tripped over one earlier—but he thought you would have come out for a snack or a trip to the bathroom or something by now.

Perhaps it was best to give you two some privacy.

On his way out, he opted to text you instead of knocking on your door to check if you needed anything. He took his time gathering his wallet and keys, but even after a few minutes, you still hadn’t opened the message. He got the hint, loud and clear. 

The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down his mental checklist for household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over. 

Eren didn’t like to be at the apartment when he was there, your boyfriend. It wasn’t anything personal—

Okay, maybe he could admit it was a little personal. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest.

Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to go and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way back home. 

Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they were always locked away in their bedroom? 

Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that was like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. For him, it was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough to sleep. He couldn’t even enjoy his show because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ He wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started because it didn’t even seem like you paid it any attention.

Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t that spacious, and it didn’t take long to learn the walls were about as thin as cardboard, which made the silence eerie as Eren slipped from his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place, like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Something was off. 

Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—he discerned the first sign of life from your room. Shouting, but Eren couldn’t pick out if it belonged to you or him.

Your bedroom door swung open. Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking in its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into fists at his side. What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?

Then, he shot Eren this glare. This downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbling but still upright. 

Prickly, and merely seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole was out the door—even made sure to slam it behind him—before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was.

The apartment went quiet again. The door stopped quavering and the room was still. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, firmly planted in the center of the living room like his feet had taken root. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he had this dreaded feeling he was about to learn regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint, but spilling from your room and into the hall. 

The door to your bedroom was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You saw only his head at first, tentatively poked around the corner. After he decided the coast was clear, he made himself known, loosely leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.

Your instinct was to hide your face—to quickly swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already seen the puffy-eyed look on your face.

You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them hang from the edge of the bed. You started to fumble over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

Eren couldn’t begin to guess why you were apologizing, and immediately, he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it. His body stiffened. 

Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree with you. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?”

You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering you were surrounded by what appeared to be a hundred of them. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. He even took another, squeamishly watching you loudly blow your nose. 

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?”

You glanced over at him, still looking pretty awful. You had smeared the streaks of mascara across the crests of your cheeks, even to your temples, tinging them like soot. Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat to his bedroom. 

You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip started to quiver. “He broke up with me.”

Say what you wanted about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless, perhaps both—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, they repulsed him, most especially the waterworks that accompanied them. 

Eren averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different than spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded. 

If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the sort of stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. Ugh.

He remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this if you want.”

Face buried in your palms, you pried your gaze higher and, unexpectedly, grimaced.

“What? No, I don’t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes. 

Your voice was sour enough to sting, like he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. His face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he didn’t stop there; he continued digging his own grave. 

Eren nodded his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”

“I think I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”

Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you; that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit you didn’t want his help, that he was only making things worse. That maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then.

Honestly, that might have been the case. Not just in that fleeting moment but for the days to come.

It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the little apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You told him as such. ‘I just like to have someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make it harder to adjust to the quiet. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.

He supposed it was naive of him to think you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week. But were you really that hung up on this guy?

No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you less than a minute after your boyfriend had stormed out. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you never apologized for slamming the door in his face.

Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads, no better than a couple of rams, if given the right provocation.

To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. But the reality of it was you shared this apartment for well over a year now. Eren wasn’t your original roommate, that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered an internship a few hours south of here, out of commuting range, and took it on a whim. That internship turned into her dream job, and her friend Eren’s sublease turned into one of his own, for no other reason than it just worked; it was as simple as that. 

So one could imagine why Eren had trouble wrapping his head around it. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy one another. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around. Eren always did. You always did.

But this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe—conveniently located on his walk home from the gym—softened you. That was when he knew it was bad, worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. It was awkward and tense and, frankly, unbearable. 

It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, a bit bloodshot when he last checked. He took it as his sign to shut off the computer. 

You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you were; he told himself he didn’t care, but his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse had returned to its rightful spot: draped over the back of the loveseat. For whatever reason, your absence irked him.

You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you came home; you just didn’t expect to bump into him. 

You stood in your entryway, your coat only halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, when Eren emerged from the hallway. He had a hand shielded over his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light. 

His white tee held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. It was an old shirt, by the look of it, its collar drooped in the front and a hemline that appeared slightly thread-barren against his charcoal sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back; stray strands framed his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. He blinked them a few times, hard, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgy once-over. 

“Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked. 

“Yeah.” It was a rather redundant question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, bounding around on one foot as you tried to slip free of them.

Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.

“So?”

“What were you doing out that late?”

You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.

“It’s none of your business,” you snarked.

“It is when you wake me up.”

You had difficulty believing you had woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”

You were purposefully vague because it truly was none of his business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, with it, an implication you didn’t intend. 

Eren gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he looked absolutely baffled with you. 

“You didn’t.”

He thought you went crawling back to your ex. 

You didn’t correct him in time to prevent his ranting and raving.

“You can’t be serious. After what he did?” He was referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” And that was referring to the rest. You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes as if it would clear his head. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”

You were insulted he’d think so lowly of you, that you needed a fatherly lecture from him of all people. You were fixed on that, not reading between the lines when you barked, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?”

Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was even talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you, loudly stumbling through the front door in the middle of the night, unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation. 

A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight but eleven days ago. It didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—all of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you. 

So in his mind, the better question was, “Why are you being like this?”

You defensively knotted your arms over your chest. “Like what?”

Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he only stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn out of his slumber and immediately thrown into the ring with you, but truthfully, he could have eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso and still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions. 

Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you like you were supposed to know what he meant by it. “Weird and stuff.”

“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a pointed scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

“You’re never here anymore,” he said in exasperation, “and when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”

You wanted to do exactly that, to roll your eyes and stomp to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He was daring you to prove him right. 

In a way, ending a spat was much like defusing a bomb, wasn’t it? Both backed you into a corner, forcing you to make a decision on instinct alone. You’d clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny, put it off for another day, just to see if it explodes. Or you could end it. 

You exhaled reluctantly. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went back to her place, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He matched your sigh, and you watched the sink in his shoulders. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.” 

You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because guilt pitted your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him, you understood that. And undoubtedly, it was a part of the reason—at least why he was testier than normal, which was saying something—but hearing him now, you realized it ran much deeper than that. 

The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed he was about to offer you some cliché, but if it would be anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested. 

You beat him to it, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”

The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you and expected him to know what to do with it. 

Eren’s eyes narrowed and flickered over you, head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you elaborated, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.”

He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—find a place of my own or live with him—or it was over.”

The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t made up your mind already—as if you were about to break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer.

“And?” 

You exaggerated it when you extended your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked and looked at him, but for once, he didn’t say a thing. You disarmed him; he tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrendering. 

“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said genuinely, even if you weren’t quite sure what ‘this’ was—your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever it was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”

He finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”

Deep down—like way down in there—you recognized none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It became easier to pretend as if he wasn’t there, just for a while. It was irrational, it was your gut reaction, and by the time you realized how petulant it was, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All it took was a bit of cornering, you supposed.

You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep it to himself. He stewed on it, a simmer at first, until it bubbled to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’

Once the argument ensued, it was like you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He had already set his mind on that ultimatum—a rather expensive one at that. 

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange you were in a relationship with one man while living with another, but was it that bizarre a concept? It was how the cards fell, so you made the best of it, which wasn’t too difficult, actually. 

It became clear just how long it’d been bothering him when he began to list everything you’d done wrong over the months, even going as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you should have stopped him there; no one needed to be with that kind of person, anyway. 

Firstly, and what appeared to be your greatest sin, was that he hated when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies; it really didn’t happen often. Eren left them thrown about the apartment, so you’d only wear them to empty the trash when it was raining or when you went grab a coffee down the street on a chilly day. According to him, he was always finding them in your room.

You could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started to become silly—was that he ‘always’ (he used that word a lot) heard Eren in the background when he’d call. You told him it was farfetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault.

Then he became more upset, ridiculing you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything—another exaggeration. In your defense, if you turned to Eren, it was only a matter of convenience because he was literally across the hall. You never explained this; he didn’t give you the chance, so you tuned out his other reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of this tailspin. 

It hit you then, not like a smack across the face; it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go. 

“Eren?” 

The mildness in your voice surprised you. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed something from him (you did). He was immediately suspicious. Still, he met your eye, acknowledging you with knitted brows. 

Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren.

You had to choose your words carefully, but there was no careful way to go about this. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you kiss me?”

What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in his body, just for one night.

The softness in his voice contended with your own. “Why?”

He didn’t say no. His face certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t draw back when you neared him. 

Sasha spent the evening encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard.

“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.” 

Eren flinched, only slightly, when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher up his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.

“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost temptatious way, “don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

He sucked in a breath and his lip went with it, pinched between his teeth. He shut his eyes because he was pretty sure he was about to kiss you. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He still had to decide what to do, and all the while, his thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another. 

It was a terrible idea. Downright awful. Even so, it didn’t feel so bad when he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer.

Eren opened his eyes to your face, nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as if it were the middle of the afternoon. Something about them was alluring, though he couldn’t pin it. They grew, bigger and bigger, until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them to yours—an answer to one or both of your questions, he wasn’t sure. 

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, losing his words between your lips as he asked, “Should we be doing this?”

You inched back, still extremely close, enough that your breath warmed him. “Why not?”

Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend, his roommate. Someone he wanted to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult.

“Won’t it make things weird?”

“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you the unamused look you anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after the shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?”

Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. It had only happened twice! And there was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous.

It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore from time to time, the telltale sign laundry day was near. Eren had only seen it a few times, incidentally of course, just if you’d pass one another. Still, he could picture it then. It hardly counted as a robe, so frail that he was surprised anyone would spend money on it. It bordered on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—

You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”

He deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, sitting dangerously low on your waist. In that moment, his sense drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop at first, then a burst pipe. Now, he wasn’t sure there was even an ounce left. 

You batted your lashes at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”

Okay. Now he was absolutely certain any and all sense had drained from him. 

Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again.”

Yeah, that worked. That was how he’d justify it: he was merely helping you out. Nothing more. Then things would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, but desire had been lowly buzzing between your legs for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. But right then, you weren’t sure if there was anything—no body of water great enough—that could douse it. You didn’t mind; you found pleasure in it because at least you weren’t burning alone. 

You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged it with a small tick of his head.

“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if this is a mistake?”

He was still struggling to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living with you for over a year, but this was next level. You had him dumbstruck.

Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was just another twenty-something-year-old guy, of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences.  

You touched his mouth with the tips of your fingers. His lips were wet with your spit—a combination of yours and his. You pressed down, ever so lightly, to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables, groans pulled from the back of your throats. 

“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”

You invited him with a peck at first, a taste, then he pulled you back in to devour you whole.

Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better at it than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip. 

His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your lightheaded self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an agape mouth. 

You smoothed your hands higher on his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his T-shirt, it set his nerves ablaze. 

The part of his brain demanding he pump the breaks finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by it. It was all physical, fueled by carnal desire. He acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter. Instead of taking his hands against your shoulders, pushing you away to create some distance, he molded them around your hips. 

You clasped your hands around his larger ones and placed them on your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle you—to feel you—and he took to it as if he’d already thought about everywhere he’d like to grab. 

Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you’d left them. 

You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you’d thought about fucking on this couch before—not with Eren obviously. The cushions were deep-set and roomier than most. It was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, but at least it was firm and wouldn’t give too much beneath you. You felt like it was made for fucking but respected your roommates enough not to give it a spin. But with Eren, everything was shared. Everything belonged to you and him. You could do it wherever you wished. 

Eren laid you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below him, attempting to make any space for him to fit between your legs. It was nearly impossible in such restricting denim. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ into his mouth as you darted your hands down for the button. He was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off the other. 

Settled between your legs, Eren kissed you again, and you tasted the desire on each other’s tongues. His sweats did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined if you slipped a hand below his waistband you would find he wasn’t wearing boxers. 

You bunched his shirt in your fist. You tugged at the hem of it, lifting it out of your way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abs, you felt the way they tensed as you trailed higher up his chest. Once it was established that it wasn’t needed, Eren sat back on his calves to peel it over his head, and it was on the floor a second later. Yours was next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered once he realized it wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being romantic. “How did you even get this thing on?”

“Sasha helped,” you relied matter-of-factly, though a bit breathless. 

Did she have to knot it this many times? 

You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the ties. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string there was a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later. 

He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to it. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from pressing your bodies together. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple. When it was perked, he sucked lightly until your breathing began to flutter. He pulled off you with a pop, thumbing over your nipple as he turned to gift his attention to the other. 

Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. It both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that came with being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, seeing for himself what you liked best. 

Heat pooled in your stomach. Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you, everywhere. From your neck and the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. Then at your hipbones next, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, reminiscent of an airy giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again. 

But as was certain, the tides would ebb; tepid waves turned to sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, your hips kneading into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already. 

Eren leaned back when his fingers met your underwear. He hooked the band of them with his index finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. On instinct, you twitched, feeling frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur along with a hiss urging him to get on with it. 

Though your panties separated you and him, his eyes were still transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew how badly you wanted him there by the telling damp spot on the fabric.

Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers rested atop your pelvis. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slacked in a smile that widened with your whimpers. 

When he finally started to remove your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—for your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your humiliation only worsened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.

He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would more than achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked, sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted. 

So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth. 

Immediately, you throw your head back. It bumped the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and right then, you found the sight of him inexplicitly striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had pinned you to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks. 

Once he realized you were all right—it didn’t faze you one bit—Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit. 

“Oh, God,” you breathed sharply, chin tucked to your chest, following it with a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy.

Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue and swirled it around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allowing another cry to spill from you. It bubbled in your throat, and you swallowed thickly to keep it at bay before the neighbors could learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. But when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckle instead. 

Admittedly, you had wondered if he was actually talented at this or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom walls were only trying to boost his ego. He answered your inexplicit question by delving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it. 

“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out, your back curving up from the cushions. “I’m almost there.” 

Closer. You needed him closer.

You clung your hand to his head, raked your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped from it as you disheveled his bed head further. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver. 

“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you. 

You did. He groaned, and you felt the couch shift as he rutted into it. 

Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he was doing with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you were writhing as you teetered it. 

It was slick between your legs, you and the cushion beneath you drenched in your arousal and saliva. Eren’s mouth slipped around the more you wiggled. It didn’t matter where he held you, how deep his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch, undoubtedly taking him with you. 

Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest in a reminder to hold them out of his way. You replaced his hands with your own, whining when you felt his fingers at your slit. He glided them between you, coating them until they slipped right inside. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his speed until he discovered the tempo that made you pulse around him. Then he curled them, just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release. 

“I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end.

Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling, but it was distant and overshadowed by your heart thrumming in your ears. You couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about how fucking hot it was—but you felt his raspy timbre vibrating against you as you shattered. 

Your legs dropped to your sides, quivering as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything but finding your breath.

Eren planted a long kiss against you, easing you down with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailed from your inner thighs to below your navel. Each sent another shock through you. He continued until you were face-to-face again. 

“How was that?” Eren asked. He was cheeky with it, grinning and everything, so you responded by flicking his bicep. 

He was still smug about it as he tilted to kiss beneath your jaw, intermittently nibbling at your earlobe. You lolled your head back, offering the expanse of your neck to him. But when you saw him reach for the band of his sweatpants, you rested a hand against his arm.

It took him a second, but when it clicked, he said, “Condom. Right,” and pushed himself off the couch.

Your shirt was still gathered around your midsection, clammy and sticking to your skin. You wriggled free of it, shimmying it over your head before you flung it to the opposite side of the room. It felt wrong to lay on the couch like this, bare and fully exposed. You thought to cover up with a blanket but reminded yourself there was no point; it’d be on the floor, just like everything else, in a matter of minutes. 

You were still lying there, fidgety and a bit limp, when Eren returned. He was rustling with the condom wrapper as he joined you on the couch. Calmly as ever, like he’d done it a million times before, he lifted your legs to make room, setting them over his lap as he sat beside you. He smirked to himself when he noticed you were shaky in his grasp. 

Eren leaned in as you rose to meet him. One of his hands supported your lower back while his other trailed up your inner thigh. His fingertips ghosted over the spots he had tasted not long ago until he was back between your legs, almost like he had never left. You melted into him with a dreamy sigh the instant he began to rub gently, placing his lips to yours as he did. 

You looped your arms around his neck. His hand left your back, and you heard the familiar crinkling as he reached for the condom.

Eren reveled in every flimsy little breath you let spill into his mouth. He tightened his circles, expertly attuned to your clit. He gauged your reaction, noticing when your lips began to stutter against his own. He felt them curve into a small ‘o’ as he picked up where you couldn’t—kissing you, sucking your tongue, skimming his teeth along it, until your angelic sounds turned depraved.

The intensity at which Eren wanted this—wanted you—surprised him. You had barely spoken in eleven days, and he spent the better of the night grumbling and bitter about it, positive you’d never want to see him again. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his lap, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. He could play with your perfect pussy all night; so perfect that he had no choice but to give you a taste; how warm and wet and soft you were around his fingers; how you’d feel even better around his cock. 

Just thinking about it had him rutting into your leg, just once, in a helpless search for friction. 

Eren caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted you away from his lips as he spoke against the side of your face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your face was puckered, squishing your languid and needy, “Yes.”

He angled your jaw further. “Then tell me how you want it.”

You felt his lips tickle over your pulse point. Kissing it, sucking it, nipping at it.

“Fuck,” you cursed on an agonizingly long hiss. 

“Well obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. The vibrato of it echoed through you. “Look at me.” You did, as much as you could; he was still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you.”

You shook his hand off, panting, “I want it rough.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him down until he collapsed over you. You smoothed his hair back before taking his face between your hands. You wanted to see the reaction in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”

You said it as if you’d thought about it before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. He told himself it was a problem for tomorrow and didn’t question it again. Tonight, his only obstacle was that he was still in his sweatpants, but it was swiftly resolved when you both reached for them. 

Once they were gone, Eren sloppily licked his palm. You’d almost call it crass if it didn’t shamefully turn you on, watching him wrap his hand around his cock. His eyelashes fluttered at the small bit of release. He fisted himself a few times, unbothered by your blatant staring, before rolling the condom on. 

He had you on your back, your head laid on the armrest again. One of your legs was hitched around his waist, and your other dangled from the couch, creating enough space for him to nestle in between.

You felt him—how hard he was for you—pressed in the crease of your thigh. With a hand around his base, he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock threatened to push inside you, but he only glided it between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth tingled down your spine. 

Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube and your wetness made it easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, to dip inside and tease you. But it wasn’t long before he was only teasing himself. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in. 

It wasn’t like he was any better. When Eren felt your heel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you, he succumbed. Not with a tilt of his hips but with one plunging thrust.

Your mouth hinged open, but nothing came out. Your wilted gasp was lost somewhere in the depths of your throat. You swallowed it down before you could choke.

Caged between his arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps, only once he had filled you, entirely, his body flush against your own. Above you, Eren’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted in a shaky, dare you say it, beautiful sigh. Thrilled, your muscles naturally spasmed around the thick of him.

Eren stilled to adjust to you; your sensitive, needy pussy wasn’t making it easy on him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing. Just as good as he imagined, but so much tighter when he split you on his cock, not with his fingers. 

He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself a little more as he went, ensuring you felt every inch of him, just to bury inside you generously again. 

Eren fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And God, it was effortless how he slid into you, over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bed sheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself. 

Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing harder, his head dropped. You took it as an opportunity to muffle your moans, mouthing over his neck, right where it met his shoulder. You kissed him there, flattening your hands against his back to hold him to your mouth like you wanted him to smother you. 

His skin tasted salty against your tongue. If he kissed you now, you were sure you’d taste the same, the heat between you growing feverish the more you ground against each other in a sticky lust.

When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you’d argue the groan he gave tapered into a low whimper. So you did it again, harsher this time. You bit down on him, the lean muscle giving easily, and it kept you quiet enough. It did pull another sound from Eren, though. He muttered some incoherent curses you couldn’t make out, and you would have thought you hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts sped into pounding. 

The couch was a tricky place to have sex, but you knew that already. You made it more complicated than it needed to be, forgoing the two bedrooms you had at your disposal, full-sized beds and all, and cramped yourselves onto this sofa because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead. 

Already, this position wasn’t going to work. Half of you had slipped from the couch, even more with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing you were—to falter over the edge again. Only your ass at first, then it was your whole leg. Then the process would repeat. 

Eren sat back slightly. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you to him, further down onto his cock.

With a yelp, your head fell from the armrest and lightly bounced against the cushion. He replaced it with your hands, pinning them high above your head with a sturdy grasp on your wrist. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, and he used his other hand to hold you open for him, gripping the fat of your inner thigh. 

“Keep ‘em spread for me,” Eren growled. “Wider.”

You liked how his voice sounded right then, almost like gravel. You’d never heard it like that, all raspy and weighed down by his lust. That and the subtle pinch in his brow gave away just how turned on he was. 

You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long exactly. Time was irrelevant after three a.m. anyway, wasn’t it? One particularly good thrust—his hips sputtering and grinding against you as if he could go any deeper—had his elbow buckling. Unable to hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose neither and flipped you onto your stomach.

Eren tossed you onto the armrest. You planted your forearms into it, propping yourself up. You felt his hand at the center of your back, forcing a nice bend in it for him. He smoothed it down lower, taking a handful of your ass and indulgently spreading you just to watch him disappear inside. 

Too weak to hold your head up, you let it drop between your shoulders, gritting a wakened, “Fuck—you’re deep.”

When he sank into you fully, bottoming out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars. 

Eren slowed at your dubious remark, unsure what to make of it. The moment he did, you made it clear, demanding, “Keep going.”

He began ramming into you, his hand still searing into your spine. You were too far gone, too focused on coming again, to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock set sparks between your legs. 

Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only wail a pleading, “Fuck me.” 

You emphasized it by rocking back into him, smushing the back of your thighs against the front of his. It said enough.

Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach. 

“Let me know if it’s too much.” 

He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did because you would have eaten your words not a second later.

Eren fucked you with one foot planted into the floor, and his opposite on the couch cushion. His first thrust stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back on his cock. In the tangled spot where ‘too much’ became ‘yes, yes, yes!’ you were lost in messy throes of pleasure. 

The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. You closed your eyes and tuned into how good you were making him feel. 

Your eyes shot open when you felt your upper body slipping over the armrest, your body lurching forward with the brutal snapping of his hips. You extended a hand to the floor, the wood cool under your clammy palm, to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass perched in the air for him, you let him have you. 

Eren didn’t let you hang there long, just long enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. You went with him, willingly and submissively. 

You lifted to your knees before Eren seized you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps as a wispy moan left you—something like an ‘ah–hah’ as a loose smile tickled at the corners of your ajar lips. Once you’d finished pulsing around him, he took care of the rest, working you up and down over his length. 

He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with a determined look of lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth. 

When you pulled away, you were panting. Saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down, briefly distracted by your tits, before returning to your face.

“You look good like this,” Eren told you, his voice a bit strained. He snapped the spitty string with a flick of his chin. 

“Like what?” you tried to sass, but it came out warbled as he bounced you on his cock. “Getting fucked by you?”

“Exactly,” he panted through a smug half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”

That mental image did things to you.

“Mm, fuck,” you groaned, long and sweet, your teeth bearing down on your bottom lip. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close—keep talking.”

If your head wasn’t tossed back, you would have wanted to slap the sick smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be into dirty talk. 

“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me but can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”

The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing at yourself desperately.

You sensed Eren was enjoying this—uttering filth to you—as much as you did, perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into yours, as if he wasn’t already rashly pulling you against him, stuffed to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs, an unavoidable consequence of fucking like animals. 

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You started rolling your hips. “I need you to make me come—please make me come.”

His cock jolted inside you, but he didn’t relent. He wanted to play with you a bit longer.

“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re gonna look coming on my cock.”

You were right fucking there. So close that you’d do just anything—say anything. It’d spill out of you like a babbly, drooly mess of course, but you’d say it. 

“So pretty—” Your shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”

“Fuck yeah, you are.” He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass. You didn’t feel it because you were coming, deliriously hard.

You sounded pitchy and whiny and you just knew Eren would tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. It hit you in ripples, and you rode out every one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm. 

“God damn,” Eren remarked, voice tight, “You needed that one, didn’t you?”

He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered even if you could.

When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a haze. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, contented, as Eren worked toward his own high. 

He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up in the deepest part of his gut. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into. 

Eren’s breathing began to pick up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusting turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush to him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat. 

You felt him throbbing inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. After, he started to lift you off his lap. His oversensitive cock slipped from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. When he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.  

You stayed like that for a minute, staring at the ceiling, hand folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up.

He went to the bathroom; you knew it because you saw the fluorescent light seep into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear and a blanket. 

You’d already wrapped yourself in a fleece and snuggled into the couch by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home. 

He flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk, or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat. 

“No,” you told him. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

You figured that was that, but then you saw him head to the other side of the couch. It shuddered beneath his weight as he slumped into its cushions. When you sat up to look at him, he answered your question before you could open your mouth. 

“I’ll stay here then, too,” he said cooly.

“Why?”

Eren thought on it, and though he didn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”

Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through the cracks in the blind. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he wittily quoted you from earlier. 

You smiled. “But I thought you were mad at me for waking you up.”

“I got over it,” he said with a leisurely shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You laughed lightly through your nose, and Eren tossed you a small smile in return. 

He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your pornstar sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck. 

His neck.

Eren noticed the way your eyes widened. It freaked him out. “What?”

You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.” 

He frowned. “Shit.” He started pawing at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”

“A little.” You leaned in to poke it, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle harder as you said, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”

“You don’t even know the name of it! How can you say you like it?”

“I know it! I just—can’t remember it right now,” you said both confidently and sheepishly, if that was even possible.

He raised his eyebrow at you; you didn’t like it. “So I was just that good, huh?”

You snatched one of the pillows and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”

As you said it, Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only heard from someone occasionally, one that made it feel like you could get back to the way things were—before everything. 

And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.

thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello :) Can i request a mutually pining hero x villain piece where the hero finds out about the horrible treatment the villain goes through in prison (whenever the villain gets locked up) and they have an emotional confrontation where the hero apologizes and promises to fix the situation? a little bit of holding the villain's chin and asking them how much it hurts? just the heartwrenching stuff.

Whether you see this or not, I want to say thank you for everything you've shared with us. You are extremely talented, and an inspiration for people who want to improve their writing. Thank you, thank you. :') <3

"They hurt you."

The villain stilled. They kept their gaze fixed on the sky, their hands focused on the ember of a cigarette clutched between their fingers, their ears tracking the thump of music spilling out onto the street.

Inevitably, despite all of those efforts, their attention locked on the hero standing next to them.

Fury radiated from the hero, and something more. They didn't have to glance over to see it. They didn't have to glance over at all when the hero edged even closer to them, brow knitted, eyes liquid guilt in the pooling streetlight.

The villain took another drag of their cigarette to steady themselves, filthy habit though it was, before exhaling. "We're not doing this here."

The thin alley behind the club was empty except for the two of them, but that was hardly the point. The air was warm with the promise of summer and freedom. They didn't want to think about any else.

"Where are we doing it then?" the hero demanded.

The villain's jaw clenched. They stubbed out the smoke and began to turn away.

In an instant, the hero's hand was firm on their shoulder, pinning them in place. By all rights, if things in the world made sense, the villain should have flinched at the rough touch and the hero should have recoiled. The villain didn't flinch. The hero wouldn't hurt them, not like that. They knew it in their bones.

The hero didn't recoil. They ducked their head to try and catch the villain's eyes again.

The villains scoffed and slid their gaze away, throat tight.

"I want to fix it," the hero said. "This should never - if I'd known -"

"-You didn't know." It was forgiveness and accusation all at once.

"I should have."

"You didn't."

The hero had always been kind, in their interactions, in the complicated way that the two of them could be kind to each other. Not polite, not nice, not civil. But kind. Of course they hadn't known, and of course the villain hadn't told them. They would never have told them. Not in case, just in case, the hero had actually known all along. Not in case, just in case, the hero didn't care. Not in case, just in case, the hero thought they deserved it.

"You going to let me go free next time?" the villain asked.

The hero's jaw clenched too. "I'm not going to let them treat you like - like -"

"Like a criminal? You can say it. That's what I am."

"Like a monster."

The villain smiled. It didn't quite reach their eyes, but nor was it ungenuine. "Also what I am."

The hero's other hand shot out, seizing the villain's chin, forcing their gazes to lock. "No."

"Yes." The villain studied them. "Don't be obvious."

"You deserve better."

"Because you don't think I'm a monster?"

"Even if you are," the hero whispered. "And I'm sorry. I'm just - so sorry."

The villain didn't know what to say to that. The hero's sincerity, raw as an open wound, floored them utterly. They swallowed, pulse fluttering against the warm press of the hero's palm.

Contact. Firm, unflinching, not unkind contact.

"How much does it hurt?" the hero asked.

"This or the - before?"

The hero let go instantly, hand flying back to their side as if they'd been burnt.

The villain's hand rose to where the hero's hand had been, chasing the memory of it. The words 'you didn't hurt me' perched on the tip of their tongue. The villain swallowed them.

"I'm going to end up back there," the villain said. "You can't fix that, because you're the one that catches me. The only one who can."

"If you stopped..."

"If you stopped," the villain said.

The hero squeezed their eyes shut for a second, pained.

The villain reached out, despite themselves, to grip the hero's chin. Feather-light. "How much does it hurt?"

The hero laughed, a little raspy, a little not laughing at all. "This should never have happened."

"It happens to more than just me." I'm just the one you care about. The knowledge was as dizzying, as giddying and heady, as it was awful.

"If I asked you to tell me what they did to you, would you?" the hero asked.

"You already know."

The isolation. The power restraints that were always cinched a little too tight. The beatings. It was always better near the end of their sentence, to allow time for the bruises to heal, and it was never anything permanent. Nothing that could be used in a court of law. Nothing but words and hearsay.

"Yes." The hero watched them.

"But you want me to tell you anyway."

"Yes."

The villain dropped their hand and itched for another cigarette, and itched to continue touching even more. They turned their gaze away again and cleared their throat, because the hero's expression...

The villain had been hurt so many times before. The hero made it look new.

"I'll fix it," the hero said, less a wish or a want and more a promise. "This won't happen again. Not to you. Not to anyone."

The villain knew better than most that promises were easily-broken, fragile things. Still.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?"

The hero flinched.

The villain didn't recoil. Monsters didn't get to recoil from the worst that the world had to offer.

They started walking, and paused at the end of the alley where the shadows turned to light and life and the open world. They glanced back to where the hero stood, perfectly still and perfectly shattered, hands flexing like they were itching to touch again too.

Sometimes monsters got kind things too, even if it made no sense, even if what was theirs felt like it should belong to everyone else in a thousand different ways.

"We're not doing this here," the villain called out. "So. You coming?"

The hero followed.

The villain knew they always would.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #story #angst #writing snippet #hero and villain #villain and hero

[babsisbakery]

Drowning to swimming

Since she left you, you don’t feel much when you are alone except for sadness. With friends it’s a different story, you are your old self again, no pretending, they are just the balsam to your soul. When you return home tho, doing absolutely nothing, nothing can stop your brain from activating your deepest and most depressing emotions. Thinking what you lost. That you haven’t been loved as you deserve. So, your tears fall. Letting them all out. It’s a literal waterfall, your dam broke and its drowning you. Your own despair is crushing you. Self-destruction from inside. When you stop crying and wipe your tears away you become numb. Until your brain starts to work. Reminiscing of the one who left you. She is the reason why you are now just a shallow version of your old self. All of this starts the cycle yet again. Cry. Numbness. Thinking. Repeat. After a while you manage to stop. Distracting yourself with re-watching matches, sadly you can’t bear to watch hers anymore, training and watching dumb series you know won’t bring you further or mental relief.

You would have done anything for her. Sadly, it seems like she didn’t appreciate and value that enough. Misunderstanding lead to an argument which you didn’t understand. But you can’t change that. At the end she saw you as the villain in the story. Her friends probably played into this but who are you to judge. They didn’t know you. They only assumed. You hoped they just wanted the best in their friend whom you loved but misjudged your character. You couldn’t see her as a villain though. She was your moon, the light to guide you through darkness. You still wished her the best, you still wanted her in your life, just as friends but more than getting nothing of her. The pain she caused seemed to decrease but every time you thought you were over her you still imagined yourself in her presence, in her life.

Your teammates tried to get you out of your self-installed prison but they can’t. They aren’t her. Only she could. Giving you the much-needed closure. No hurtful words exchanged moreover finally words from one former lover to another.

Now most days your thoughts were free from the ex. And you let yourself feel again. Trying to build a door into the high walls around your heart. So, it wasn’t too complicated for others to get to know you. You’ve never opened up fully to her, but it was the most you’ve ever had, in feat of hurting her by speaking of your own emotions. Because you once did it and making her cry was never something you wanted to repeat. Her puffy eyes, which filled your heart with sorrow. You once believed Alessia to be your person, your other half. The one that got away. But it all changed. When you met the girl of your dreams, Alessia didn’t stand a chance in your thoughts anymore.

She was more mature. She was the support system you needed after being everybody else’s. Leah Williamson is not the girl but the woman of your dreams. Not girlfriend material but a wifey. The person who wouldn’t back away, she stood by you. Your true saviour. You’ve found your personal hero. She is the one who treats you as if you’re her princesa, her world. She brought light back into your darkness. Without her you wouldn’t have two beautiful little twin girls running around in your shared home. Now you’d do anything to protect your precious little family, your three girls. That’s how you went from drowning to being able to swim again.

#leah williamson #alessia russo #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #fem reader #alessia russo x reader #woso imagine

[ddarker-dreams]

ranking the current husband rotation on how well they handle you crying.

even if he's the reason you're crying, chrollo is unfairly good at providing comfort. he considered himself numb to the sight of tears, but you plucked a cord buried deep inside his decayed heart. he assesses the scene before him with a quiet intensity. unless it's an event that just unfolded, he can always guess what got you this emotional based on past conversations and observation. his immediate instinct is to check you over for injuries. once he's assured that isn't the problem, he makes his presence known. softly saying your name, beckoning you toward him with open arms, offering an embrace deep enough to get lost in. the smooth tenor of his voice paired with his familiar warmth and scent envelop you in a comforting cocoon.

he doesn't tell you that it's okay, that there's no need to cry. he just allows your emotions to run their course. once you've settled down, he'll lead you by the hand to a couch and sit beside you. he'll quietly wonder if this is about so and so, gauging your body language for an answer if words fail you. he doesn't need to ask if you need anything. he just knows, his intuition has been sharpened to perfection by the time you've spent together. he's already thought through a myriad of solutions to whatever predicament you're facing, but he'll save that for later. the future is put aside so he can focus on you in the present.

scaramouche doesn't consider himself a sentimental person. he's allowed whatever goodwill he was born with to rot, gleefully accelerating the process so nothing but thorn and bristle remained. this garden turned necropolis returns to a shadow of itself at the mere sound of you sniffling. if that wasn't bad enough, the sight proves itself infinitely worse. he'll freeze as if his system powered down. this can't be right. you, the only being he considers worthwhile in this world, crying? he storms over, takes you by the shoulders and implores you to tell him what happened.

it's likely his abrupt appearance and grave demeanor won't prove an effective approach. he knew it before he took the first step, but his ability to rationalize succumbed to fear. fear that you were hurt, no matter what form this hurt takes. he wants an enemy to throw all this onto so he can tear it asunder. that'd give a semblance of control, something tangible to work with. if you can't provide him with names or details, he's at a loss. all he can do is think back to the many times he cried alone and trying recalling what it was he wanted then.

he'll hold you in a stiff, uncertain manner. the rough edges prove how genuine the act is.

blade is acquainted with grief and its numerous shades. the difference between you being that he's clawed at his retinas until he couldn't perceive those colors anymore, figuring it best to blind himself rather than granting outside influences the privilege. you cause the monochrome to revert. his empathy is raw, painful, and beyond verbal expression. he initially hesitates to confront this situation head-on. he couldn't offer sweet nothings if he wanted to — and he doesn't, platitudes are revolting — so what does that leave him with? he could say something insensitive, or his inability to form words might be an insult of their own.

he's fought few battles as fearsome as this. there's all the hallmarks of a bloody fight looming over the horizon. his breathing's picked up, adrenaline pumps through his abused nervous system. his hands itch to hold his sword. except there's nothing to slaughter here, no, he's tasked with the far more complicated task of imbuing life. he'll have you lay your head on his shoulder. he'll apologize, though he doesn't know what for. he just keeps you steady. you apologize for getting tears on his jacket as if he wouldn't let you tear him limb for limb if it made you feel a bit better. you probably don't want to hear that, so he presses a chaste kiss to your head instead.

#me: cries #me when i'm done: hmm how will my fictional men assist me in my time of need ?? #chrollo x reader #scaramouche x reader #blade x reader #scaramouche brainrot #chrollo brainrot #blade brainrot #<- the rotation of my brain the past month

[hexofvex]

Jealousy headcanons with my Anemo favs ft. Gender Neutral!Reader

Characters: Wanderer, Xiao and Kazuha

CW: jealous behaviour (especially worse in Scara's), a bit of swearing

Total WC: 1348 words

A/N: Switching it up a bit until I get a good one-shot idea. I'm kind of using the idea of the nations having their own languages plus a common language in Kazuha's. Also I'm sorry Kazuha's is shorter I hope you enjoy it tho <3 and as always feedback is appreaciated!

Kazuha

Kazuha is the least jealous out of these three

He's rarely ever jealous if anything

He's very confident in the stability of your relationship

However, when he gets jealous, it's directed at the outsider, he's more annoyed than anything

Would probably just intrerrupt the conversation to place a kiss on your cheek (yk to show the person in question that they don't have a chance)

You'd obviously notice his that his atitude is a bit more cheeky than usual tho

And you'd be a tad bit surprised, because you didn't really expect something like this out of him

Kazuha was not the type to get irritated easily.

But as he watches the owner of dango stall flirt with you (shamelessly, I might add), he feels his jaw tensing up. Honestly, why were they dragging this out so much? He'd been so excited to show you around Inazuma City, and for the last fifteen minutes you were stuck at the dango stall.

Of course, you had no way of knowing what the seller was saying because of the specific expressions they were using, but he understood all too well. You were nodding your head politely, with a smile that looked more pained by each minute that passed.

When he's had enough, he walks over to the stall. "My love?"

You turn to face him, and he leans over to place a soft kiss on your cheek. "We need to leave."

You try to hide the wave of relief that washes over your face, as Kazuha explains something to the vendor. When they realise the context of your relationship, their attitude changes as embarrassment blooms in their expression, and Kazuha can't deny the exquisite satisfaction he feels at the sight.

"What did you tell them?" you ask, as the two of you continue your walk through the city.

"That we are two travelers that need to get back to Ritou, to catch our ship."

Not exactly a lie. Maybe except for the fact that the Alcor leaves in three days.

"Thanks for the save." Your lips curl up into a smirk. "Was kissing me a core part of the plan?"

Kazuha smiles, the kind of radiant smile that is more than enough to give you butterflies.

"Sorry, my dear. But if you knew the things they said to you...I just couldn't help myself."

Xiao

Very jealous, but tries his best to hide it

He thinks it's embaressing, how can an adeptus feel things such as jealousy

He also feels guilty and criticizes himself for not trusting you through and through

He knows, at a rational level, that you love him, so why is it that he feels like this?

(Un)fortunately for him, he can't hide shit from you emotion wise

Xiao felt like his head was underwater, barely registering what you were saying.

You had just returned from a comission which you had taken together with another adventurer. You were just telling him how glad you were that you ended up with a partner that could carry their own.

Someone that feels like an actual partner.

That's what you said, and although he knew it wasn't that kind of partner, he couldn't stop the thoughts from flooding into his brain. Would you need him anymore? He was so complicated and hard to handle, especially when karmic debt was taking a toll on him, it wouldn't be hard for you to find someone less exhausting-

"Xiao?"

The adeptus returns to the present, broken out by your voice. You're standing in front of him, puzzled look on your face.

"Did you zone out?"

Xiao swallows. "No. I was listening."

You frown. "What was I saying?"

"You were talking about the stone slates."

"I was, five minutes ago." You face softens as you take a few steps closer to him. "Xiao? Love, are you sure you're alright? Did something happen while I was gone? Is it the karmic debt? I'll go to the harbour right away to bring more medicine if you need it-"

"No. You don't need to worry, this is no matter. Continue your story...about...your friend." He curses himself for the way his voice cracks on the word friend. And of course, you notice, and your expression shifts to a lesser degree of worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"That is beaneath adepti-"

"It's fine if you are, you know. I mean, not fine for you, but, you don't need to feel embaressed about it. It's just how feelings are sometimes. You know I'd never actually...you know..."

His eyes widen. "No, of course not! I- Forgive me." He takes a deep breath. "I do not know what to do about it, you know this is all very new to me."

"Well,I guess I just have to show you until we crush every shadow of doubt." You cup his face and slowly press your lips to his. It's a simple kiss, but you make sure it communicates your feelings.

"A little better?" You ask after you pull away.

"Yes," he replies and pulls you in again.

Wanderer

Literally unbearable

Y'all know that meme that goes "You're the most jealous man I've ever known." "You know other men?"

Yeah that's him, but he does that with everyone

His abandonment issues are big as hell, it was kind of to be expected.

Unlike Xiao, he doesn't even try to hide his jealousy

The type of person to wake you up in the middle of the night to ask if you really love him

The fact that you're with his insufferable ass should be proof enough

You're sitting in your room, enjoying a book, drinking your tea, until you feel a disturbance in the force, when you hear the door to your house getting slammed.

And before you even get to process what's going on, said disturbance walks in your room.

"Who was that turnip head that was flirting with you earlier today?"

You close your book, put down your cup and lean back in your chair, crossing your hands.

"What?"

"About 10 A.M., in front of the Akademiya."

"Ah. That was a colleague. And they're taken, in case that helps ease your mind."

"Good."

"You know, have you ever considered that perhaps I'm not looking to cheat on you at every corner?"

Noticing the hurt tone of your voice, he backs off and the anger fades from his face.

"I might have acted too brashly."

"You think?" You leave your book and cup of tea abandoned on the table as you head towards the door. You stop and turn your head to face him. "I won't betray you, Kunikuzushi. You should know I wouldn't do that."

"I know that."

"Then what's the problem!?"

He sighs and avoids your gaze.

"I am. The more time I spend in your presence the deeper I fall. It is only natural that I wish to preserve this partnership of ours. Does that make sense to you, [Name]?"

Although you're familiar with his straightforwardness, such an admission still delivers a bit of shock.

"It does. Because I want the same thing."

You step closer to him and turn his head so he's facing you.

"You don't need to do all this. I love you, that's the whole reason why I'm with you. If you'd see things from my perspective, you'd never have these thoughts again."

He's silent for a moment, until he grabs your hand and squeezes it.

"I will make attempts to get rid of this. Because I want to believe in your love. Are you willing to believe in mine?"

You laugh. "What kind of question is that? Of course I am. Why do you think I'm still here?"

"It might not go perfectly on the first try, you know."

"I'm alright with that. Just try. You can do that for me."

He lets go of your hand and goes to cup your face, bringing it so close to his that your noses are touching, and you can see the swirls of fiery determination in his eyes.

"I cannot know the results, but I could attempt anything for you."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

[wooahaes]

dream a little dream with me

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 9/13

word count: 4.7k~

warnings: skinship. food mentions. some slight angst.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a soulmate i meet with in my dreams...

summary: Jeonghan knows you. He might not know your face, but you’re the person in his dreams every night. And frankly… he’s pretty sure he’s already falling for you. He just has to figure out how to find you when the world won’t let him trade names or locations or anything he can actually use. At least he knows your favorite things…

"Hello...?"

Jeonghan was maybe thirteen when he finally met you for the first time, and you'd already proven him wrong with your existence alone. When he had turned ten, he expected to feel... something. To lose all the colors within his vision, or maybe he would feel your pain or something physical. A name, your first thoughts, your first words... Except he felt nothing. It'd upset him, sure--most people were upset by that kind of thing just on the account of being considered an outsider to their peers. Yet now he'd found himself in a museum filled with paintings he couldn't fully make out, and surrounded by people with blurry faces... Except for you.

He'd blinked. "Hello?"

And you lit up, making your way over to him. "You're...?"

Jeonghan had furrowed his brow, watching you carefully. Why could he see you...? "I'm Jeonghan," he had said, thinking that was what you meant.

You'd given him your given name, too--last name melting into white noise for a second. For a moment, you stood there, brimming with excitement. "We're--We're soulmates."

Immediately, he'd felt lighter at the revelation. "Oh!" Then he paused, brows drawing together once more as a follow-up thought pushed into his head immediately. "Why haven't we met before?"

He'd seen the way you grew more upset, gaze no longer meet his own. "I'm... It's complicated." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I think... Our sleep schedules don't overlap?" You looked up. "I laid down to take a nap for a bit because I was feeling sick, so..."

So you weren't near him. He felt a sting of rejection, even though you hadn't said anything of the sort.. Emotions were weird at thirteen, after all, and something like his soulmate not being near him. Obviously, it wasn't your fault: you didn't pick where you lived. He looked around, and felt... awkward. It was different than meeting someone for the first time in reality. At least other people were around. Now, it just you and him in this dream together.

"Do you wanna talk?" He said after a moment. "Since... I don't know if I'll get to see you again."

"You aren't mad?"

He shook his head. "I just wish you were closer," he crossed his arms. "This isn't fair."

You frowned. "It's not... So let's talk."

The two of you strolled on your own, getting to know one another. He learned the country you were from, even though he wouldn't know what city or town you were in. He learned about this doughnut place in your hometown, though, that you loved to visit when you could. He told you school stories and about his own friends, about the pranks he'd pulled on his little sister... Little things to learn about one another. He learned your favorite color, you learned the foods he disliked...

And then all too soon, you had disappeared within seconds. He had called for you, only to realize that you must have woken up--or been woken up, since it was so sudden. When he woke up the next morning for school, he told his parents that he'd met his soulmate in his dreams (even though he couldn't fully remember your face once he was awake).

Thus began the cycle. He probably needed the naps he would start taking in an attempt to meet you again, but he'd grown used to pushing through his fatigue to work on schoolwork or to spend time with friends. Yet his parents always knew where he'd be when they came home from work, finding him asleep on his bed as he hoped to meet you again.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could sit with you for a little while, long enough to see you off before you woke up for your own schooling. Other times, he'd get home far too late to see you. But every time the two of you met over the rest of your teenage years, you made it work. The two of you would talk more about yourselves, getting to know each other better. He learned how to tell when you were upset, and would let you vent if you needed to. You'd given him a space to talk freely about his own feelings, too: the things that made him happy, or the things that were worrying him in real life...

Most people didn't know about his 'other' life in his dreams. The one where the two of you would go on walks in a city, sometimes holding hands. He'd slowly begun to fall for you over time, realizing that the care you showed him was sweet. The two of you had been strangers years ago, and now he understood maybe that was why the two of you were soulmates.

When he tried to kiss you around eighteen, you stopped him.

"I wanna kiss you for real," you said to him, holding his hands. "I know it's unfair to ask you to wait for me, but--"

"I will." He hadn't hesitated. Although he had kissed a girl once before (he was fifteen, and he realized after he did it that he'd much rather be kissing the person in his dreams) and told you so, he'd held off on dating. He wanted to experience things with you.

You'd squeezed his hands. "You don't have to."

Were you rejecting him...? What if he started dating someone and he loved them more than he already loved you? Part of him felt like he knew he would leave that person if he met you face-to-face, and yet... That meant he would hurt someone else. He'd heard stories about soulmates who left partners to be with one another, and while they were happy, the people left behind grew to resent them. Could he really do that to another person?

"You don't want me to?" He'd pulled his hands from yours, feeling the tiny sting in his chest.

You shook your head. "No, I--I just don't want you to wait around for me forever. What if we never meet?"

But what if we do? Jeonghan felt his heart sink in his chest. "We will," he said. Jeonghan never considered himself a hopeless romantic, but he had the naivete of a eighteen-year-old on his side. "I'll find you. I promise."

Before you could say something, you had begun to fade again. You were waking up. "Jeonghan--"

And then you were gone.

The first person Jeonghan had told about you was one of his college roommates, Joshua. He'd been listening to the way he'd been venting about how he felt he was annoying his soulmate whenever he sang, and waited until Seungcheol left for class to finally admit it out loud. He'd tell Seungcheol, too, soon: he just... needed to do it at his own pace. Both of his roommates seemed like good people who wouldn't judge him, but he'd already decided. Joshua first, and then Seungcheol. Deciding on that had made it easier, especially since Seungcheol was the busier of the two.

"My soulmate and I share dreams," he had said, pushing around the noodles in his ramyeon cup.

Joshua looked up. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "We talk whenever we can. It's hard. They're not from here. Depending on when I take a nap, I can either talk to them for a while or just ten minutes..."

"It sounds hard," Joshua nodded along. He'd sat backwards in his chair, leaning against the back of it with his chest, arms folded over the top. "So what are you doing to find them?"

Jeonghan said nothing.

"... Aren't you going to look for them?"

Jeonghan's gaze flickered up from his food. "I don't know. I don't know if they actually want to be found."

"That's--"

"We talked about it last time we met, a little over a year ago." He pushed around noodles more, never actually eating. "I'm in love with them. I don't know how they feel, although they said they'd rather kiss me for real when we meet. Then they said not to wait for them."

"It sounds like they're in love with you, too," he said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "Then why tell me not to wait?"

"Well... They're not from here." Joshua rested his chin on his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to feel like you can't date or anything."

"Don't you think I've tried it before?" Jeonghan looked up. "After they said that, I tried to move on, and I spent the entire time comparing her to my soulmate. She's not them."

Joshua frowned. "Dude... If you spend the entire time comparing, them, you're not going to be happy--"

"I know that." Jeonghan let out a sigh. "I just... I tried being with other people. She wasn't the only girl I tried to date--or see at all." They're just my soulmate, and I realized how much I love them every time I try to be with someone else. But would Joshua understand that...? Or would he just sound over-dramatic for someone he'd never met in person?

"I... see." Joshua looked off. "I guess it's different when you know your soulmate."

Jeonghan softened a little when he saw the guilt on Joshua's face. "It's fine," he said. "I just... I wish I could go to them. I don't know where they are, exactly, and it's not like I can go find them."

Can't you? He pushed away the thought. The world was big. .He couldn't just go out and find you--at least, not without looking like a creep. As much as he wished he could just let go of that desire deep within him to be with you, even temporarily, he just couldn't. Not when he'd gotten to know you so deeply. He felt as though a part of him would always be with you now, and that he carried you with him wherever he went.

Joshua understood, though. He listened, and he gave Jeonghan his thoughts whenever he asked for him. Seungcheol would eventually do the same, once Jeonghan told him about his soulmate. Seungcheol hadn't shown any offense to not being told (it was Jeonghan's business, after all). And in the moments in-between, Jeonghan was with you in some way--either thoughts preoccupied with you or in the fleeting moments of sharing a dream space.

"I kissed someone," you confessed at one point. Jeonghan had been sitting underneath a tree with you, fashioning a flower crown out of the little yellow blossoms that littered the ground around him. You craned your neck to look at him, "Are you mad...?"

He shook his head. "Do you like this?"

At first, you didn't move, and he felt his heart falter. "I dunno," you confessed a moment later. "I feel like... Every person I meet, I keep comparing them to you. Like... Hannie would laugh at this joke. Or Hannie would think this. It's like... I can't get you out of my head."

His heart skipped a beat this time as he stared at you, his face growing redder by the second. "... Really?"

"I... I dunno. It's just--I don't want you to think I'm some sort of loser when we meet."

When. Not if. "So you want to find me?"

He saw the way you grew more flustered, eyes landing anywhere but him as you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting. "Yes. Are you mad?" You finally met his gaze. "I mean... I think I hurt you before. When I told you not to wait for me? And we never talked about it, so..."

Jeonghan set the flower crown into his lap, reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm not mad," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"So you were mad."

He nodded a little after a moment. "At first..." He drew his hand back, shifting over so that he could sit closer to you. "At first I was hurt," he said, "because I thought you didn't want to find me. And... And I really wanted to kiss you, so I thought you were rejecting me, and.. I talked to my friends about it and they told me that it was alright to feel hurt, but that I was making assumptions about how you felt. So..." He dropped his hand down, pressing his palms into the grass. "How do you feel?"

"I've always wanted to meet you," you said outright. "But... I was talking to a few friends, and they kept asking questions about where you lived, and whether we'd get the chance to meet. It felt kinda mean," you moved closer, pressing your back against the tree, so that you could sit next to Jeonghan. "Like... They don't get a guarantee that they'll meet their soulmates. What makes us different?"

"Well, we know each other," he said, hand slipping into your own. "It's easier to accept things if you don't know your soulmate."

"I guess," you nodded along. "But... I dunno, it just made me anxious that we'd never be able to find each other."

"We will," Jeonghan said softly. "We'll make it work. I want to try."

Your hand curled around his, squeezing it tighter. "I want to try, too," you said, firm in what you were committing to. "Hannie?" You paused for a moment, "Jeonghan...? I want to be with you. I know we've never met in person, but can we...?"

He nodded. "Yes," he breathed out, reaching his other hand up to turn your face toward him. "May I...?"

You closed the distance between the two of you. It left him wondering if your lips would be this soft in reality. The last thing he heard was the sound of you saying his name, about to say something else when he found himself back in his couch, heart racing in his chest. He had jolted forward, fully awake out of nowhere, enough that it alerted Joshua and Seungcheol. The two were sitting at their little dinner table when they turned to see Jeonghan.

"... Bad dream?" Joshua called out.

Jeonghan just bolted to his bedroom, shutting himself in as he processed what all just happened. You kissed him. You wanted to be more. You wanted to find him.

And, fuck, he was going to do anything to find you now.

Most people gave Jeonghan weird looks when he explained his relationship to them. Yes, he hadn't met you in real life yet. No, it didn't really do anything to the relationship--it limited your dates, sure, but you had fun manipulating the dreamscape together to go wherever you wanted to go. Amusement parks with no waits for the rides, or this little cafe in your hometown, or a lovely park at night that Jeonghan walked through alone and wished you were there with him in reality. There were plenty of downsides, sure--neither of you could taste the food that you were eating, or feel the wind on your face--but you made it work and resolved to live these out once you found your way to each other. Sometimes people tried to challenge him: how could he have a relationship entirely with someone in his dreams? Didn't he miss the physical contact?

Which... The answer was a resounded 'yes,' but also it was none of their business. The two of you made it work, end of story. He'd eventually had a friend circle that accepted his relationship with his soulmate, although he'd become insistent that (when Seungkwan met his soulmate) his experience didn't count. That the two of you had agreed that your 'day one' of your relationship would be the day that you met face to face, just to make it easier to pin down a date. Everyone else had a date they could use as an anniversary, and you... Well, you and Jeonghan were different.

Although things had changed years later. All he knew at first was that he went to sleep one night, and you were there.

"... Jeonghan?"

And he'd stared at you, your name slipping from his mouth as he rushed over to you. "Are you sick again?" He frowned. "Honey, I wish I could be there to--"

"No, I... I moved. Remember?"

Right. You... You told him that you were moving for a job opportunity. It'd saddened him a little in the moment because both of you knew it'd make meeting harder, and yet all of that seemed to fade away in an instant.

"So you're...?" He didn't want to speak it aloud. What if it weren't true? What if...?

You nodded slowly. "I think... I'm closer," you said. "I'm in--"

The next few words seemed to dissolve into nothing, like his brain refused to register them. Jeonghan took your face into his hands, tears wetting his cheeks as he shook his head. Why can't it just work? Why can't their connection just let them have this now? You were closer to him. That should mean that the two of you can freely talk, and yet all he could hear was muffled words that he couldn't make out at all.

"We can't," he said, "we'll just... We'll have to find a way without saying names."

It broke his heart every time he saw you cry, and this time was worse. You nodded, though, hands coming up to hold his. "We'll find a way," you said. "Saturdays. I'll... I'll wait for you somewhere." Another name became muffled when you spoke it aloud, and you loudly swore as you broke away from him. "Coffee," you said, turning to him. "I'll... I'll always go to the same place near--" Again, your voice cut out. "Fuck--Just start looking, and--and we'll figure it out if it doesn't work."

"You'll stay there?" He watched you carefully. "All day?"

An eager nod, motivated by how close the two of you were now. "All day. Every Saturday until I find you."

And so it began.

Jeonghan... truly underestimated how many coffee places existed in this fucking city. But he went out every Saturday morning and spent hours upon hours searching for you. For months, that search came up empty. Joshua had offered to help, but Jeonghan turned both he and Seungcheol (and everyone, for that matter) down. He needed to find you himself. Maybe it was hubris, or maybe it was because he wanted to be the first one to meet you... He wasn't exactly sure anymore. A mix of both, perhaps. You could meet his friends in time, but Jeonghan didn't want anyone else to see you in person before he did. He'd known you this long. He'd been with you this long. He needed to be the first one to see you.

Three months ago, Chan met his soulmate. How much longer would it take for Jeonghan to find you? He approached the last place on his list for today, night having already fallen upon him. Maybe he'd change places with you, and have you running around looking for him. He'd try to pick somewhere more niche, though, just to make it easier on you. Jeonghan tucked his hands into his jacket pocket, staring down at his phone as he followed the directions to this place. It was a little out of the way, but maybe if he made it in time, he'd be able to swing by the bigger place not far from there. It closed earlier, sure, but it usually had way more foot traffic from what he could tell.

The thought that had been haunting him hit him again: would you even like him when you saw him in person? It'd been something stupid that popped into his head one Saturday a month ago, but it still shook him a little more than he expected. He'd seen you in so, so many dreams; he'd been with you, dating you, and yet it felt like there was a degree of separation. Those were his dreams with you, this was the real world where other people would get in the way. Where he couldn't just go to that cafe in your hometown with you, giggling about a silly joke one of you cracked, without having to travel to get there. He'd confessed his fears to Joshua once day, and Joshua had just stared at him.

"But you're in love with them."

"I know, but what if they don't love me once they see me?" Jeonghan had been curled up on Joshua's couch that night, a blanket draped around him. He toyed with the edge of it, fingers curling around the plush material. "It's different, I think."

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god. You're so stupid."

"Hey--"

"Jeonghan." Joshua turned, entirely serious as he leaned in, "They love you, dumbass. I know your dreams are magical or whatever, but they still like being with you. You told me they trust you enough to cry on you and tell you about how bad work was, or about friend troubles, or enough to just say they need to cry because of stress. If things change when they see you, they weren't really in love with you. Dreams are whatever--you're still you."

Jeonghan had said nothing at first, letting the words sink in. Then when he looked up, he saw Joshua looking off into the distance, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "They're singing, aren't they?"

Joshua cracked a smile. Jeonghan knew him well enough. "It's quiet," he said, "but... Yeah. They are."

Jeonghan knew that while Joshua was the one who sang more often in his relationship, he truly loved whenever his soulmate would sing. He knew that Joshua had told them that, and they chose to indulge him in it a little more often. Jeonghan should take a video or a picture of this and send it to them: you broke your soulmate, btw, come get him. Then again... Joshua definitely had ammunition of his own. Videos of times where Jeonghan had woken up in a pleasant mood because he'd gone on a date with you yet again, always ending with Joshua telling the camera that he was ready for the two of you to meet already.

At the end of the street on the left. Jeonghan had begun to hurry at this point, already feeling his heart sinking in his chest. No. No, no, no, fuck--The lights were out, and no one was inside despite the website saying that this place stayed open for another two hours. There had been a piece of paper taped up on a window that said something about one of the coffee machines breaking down and causing a big enough mess that they'd have to close for the night. Shit. What if this had been the one? What if you were inside when the coffee machine broke, spraying hot coffee everywhere? What if you had been burned? Jeonghan wanted to kick himself for not getting here sooner, but he looked at the other shop that closed in less than ten minutes. Fuck. Next Saturday for sure. Maybe that would be the one.

He did what he always did. He called Joshua, and told him that, yet again, he had failed to find you.

"Aw. I'm sorry, dude," Joshua had said. "Are you sure you don't want us to help out?"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol had spoken up, "We will! Just tell us where to go, and we'll find them. There's too many places for you to do it on your own. Stop being stubborn about this."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, glad that he had friends who cared so deeply about him. "No, it's fine. We'll find each other soon. I can feel it. We'll talk about it tonight and see if they can give me any details."

Of course, you hadn't before. Whatever was keeping the two of you from finding each other made sure of that. But they didn't need to know how many failed attempts Jeonghan had made at this point.

"Are you sure?" Seungcheol sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to do this alone. We're all here for you. If you say the word to Seungkwan--"

Another warm chuckle. "He'll storm every shop himself," Jeonghan said. "That's why I haven't told anyone else yet. You know Mingyu would go out searching without telling any of us."

"You sound exhausted," Joshua spoke up after a moment. "Want one of us to pick you up?"

"I'll just take the bus. I think I'll plan my next move during the ride." Jeonghan tucked his other hand back into his pocket. He needed the time to lick his wounds and pick himself back up, too. "Maybe... I'll figure out a new plan."

"Just call me if you change your mind," Seungcheol said. "Get home safely."

"I will," Jeonghan said, and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and let out a sigh.

Okay. Another failed Saturday. Jeonghan wouldn't lose hope, though: he'd find you soon enough. It wouldn't be as soon as he planned, but he would find you, and he would kiss you, and he'd never let anything tear the two of you apart like this ever again. Even with work trips and vacations and whatnot, Jeonghan would be happy to see your face again outside of his dreams.

The bus had slowed to a stop, and Jeonghan climbed on before taking a seat near the back. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by once the bus had lurched forward again. If the two of you could pick something less common, maybe you'd find one another sooner. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by as his eyelids began to droop. Next Saturday. He hugged himself tighter. Next Saturday would be the day. He had to find you then. Or maybe it was time to let his friends help him find you. What was the point of being stubborn about it all when he was taking away days he could be falling in love with you all over again?

"Hello...?"

He must have dozed off on the bus again, the sound of your voice making him open his eyes.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when's your stop?"

You must have been teasing him again. "Wherever you want it to be," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as they always do. It was always easy to say such things to you. He looked up, and pauses, mind fuzzy for a moment. "Sorry, I thought you were my..."

And then it's clear. There you stood in front of him, one hand gripping the seat next to him and the other on the one in front of it. Your eyes widened as realization hit you, and Jeonghan was already rising out of his seat. The bus driver yelled something back at the two of you, but Jeonghan wasn't listening. And it seemed like you weren't, either.

"Good morning, Hannie," you teased lightly, already smiling at him.

Jeonghan only leaned in, thrilled that you closed the distance between the two of you. He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours as he tasted something sweet on your lips. Tea, he thought, or maybe some sort of dessert involving matcha or something. Your body was warm underneath his touch and so much more real than he'd ever dreamed of. But what about you? Did he live up to your dreams?

"I love you," he said softly when he drew back. Emotions surged in his chest: relief, joy, love. The freedom of no longer having to search for you crashed over him in waves, and he felt himself tear up. He roughly wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling as he tried to hold back now. This wasn't how he wanted either of you to remember your first meeting, with him about to sob.

Yet all it took was seeing you cry for him to break, pulling you into his arms as he held you tight. The bus driver yelled back again, and he just reached back frantically, pressing the button to signal for the two of you to get off as soon as you could. And he left with you, hand in hand, as the two of you stepped out underneath the stars, already falling in love with one another all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan fluff

[peachesofteal]

First Sight / Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. First chapter here.

Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, PTSD, PPD, mentions of blood and violence, reader is a new mom, tenderness, fluff, complicated feelings, mentions of Percocet (no addiction or abuse), feelings of fear and anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

The house is quiet. Practically silent, except for the ebb and flow of Simon snoring, the broad expanse of his chest combined with the crook of his elbow making a very comfortable sleeping spot for Theo apparently. It’s like white noise, you guess. You've heard of babies being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, or rain, or even a vacuum cleaner, but you didn’t have to resort to any of those, the crackle coming from Simon’s nose more than enough.  

Which is great, because you’re exhausted. Or at least, you think you are. It’s hard to tell right now. Your abdomen is still sore, giant incision finally starting to close after six long weeks, and your brain never turns off, the darkness pulling at the edge your mind dragging you through hell almost every day, the bright spots few and infrequent. You feel haunted. You feel like a husk.

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You stare at Theo in awe, his little face perfectly serene while he sleeps in your arms, and you lower your own to the crown of his head, skimming your nose across his tiny tuft of hair. You hold him close, pointer finger tracing as lightly as possible across the apple of his cheek, back and forth. It’s hard to believe he’s even real. Or that he’s here. That the two of you made it through, and that he now has a birthday, a name, ten fingers, and ten toes. 

This, whatever it is, is the strongest concentration of love you’ve ever felt in your life, that you’re sure of. Things that mattered before, don’t anymore. Things you were worried about in the past, don’t exist. The only thing that’s real is this baby in your arms, your baby, Simon’s baby, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears at the realization. 

“What do you think, mom? You ready for some pain relief so you can get some sleep?” The nurse asks, and Simon nods but doesn’t speak. You know he wants you to get some painkillers, that he’s having a hard time watching you wince and bite your lip to the point where you draw blood, but he also wouldn’t dare speak for you, even though you’re sure he wants to take over, take charge and make sure you get what you need. 

You did just have major surgery, and the other drugs have worn off, leaving you with searing pain in your stomach and cramps in your legs. 

But the idea of taking a Percocet makes you nervous, lights some uneasy fire in the back of your mind, and irrational but completely real fear buzzes in your nervous system. If you’re drugged, you’ll be loopy, and it makes you want to say no. The amount of pain your body is in fights against the resistance, and you glance at Simon hesitantly. Like he’s reading your mind, he reaches out to place a gentle hand on your thigh. 

“Nothing is going to happen if you take a pain pill. I promise.” He says encouragingly and you relent with a sigh. 

“Okay, yeah.”

“Sass?” It’s Simon, standing in the doorway, Theo in the sling that is his giant forearm. He sits comfortably there, perfectly snuggled against his dad, and it makes your heart clench. Simon is looking at you warily, like he doesn’t recognize you. Which is fair. You don’t even recognize yourself. “What’re you doin’ out here?” Where? You blink, processing the question. Here? Your toes wiggle, in grass, and you look around. Why are you in the backyard? At night? 

“Oh. I don’t know.” He’s holding his hand out to you, large fingers reaching for yours.

“Come inside.” He presses his thumb to your wrist, eyes closing before speaking again. “I think you should call the shrink.”

“No.”

“Sass. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you need to talk to someone.” You laugh weakly.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” You spit, tone edged in an eagerness to fight, and he tenses. Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. Stop being such a bitch. He’s doing practically everything for you right now. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just… out of it.” You step closer, leaning your forehead into his chest, blinking down at the wriggling baby in his arm. Your son. You feel Simon’s nose in your hair, and then a heavy palm rests at the small of your back.

He inhales deeply.

“I know.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You repeat it over and over for assurance, even though your son is sleeping comfortably in your arms, safe and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. It’s hard to believe you’re a mom now, someone who has a tiny, defenseless little human depending on you for everything. 

Well, not just you. 

You eye Simon, asleep in the chair less than a foot from the bed, head tilted back, mouth open. There’s a large white spot of baby vomit on the front of his black sweatshirt, and he’s sporting some serious undereye circles from being up with Theo as much as possible. He doesn’t let you lift a finger, which is fine considering you can’t even really get out of the bed without help, your giant incision still wrapped up and body still exhausted from surgery, two days later. 

On top of everything, something felt off. There was this feeling, a dark, lonely thing pulling at your limbs, trying to wring you out over and over, dragging you down into the dark of the deepest waters. You were frightened of it, the cycle of thoughts spiraling through your mind every time you closed your eyes, the inky blackness of dark feelings overtaking you from every direction. Were you going to be a good mom? Would you be able to take care of Theo? What if Simon wasn’t here? What if something bad happens? What if you die? What if Theo doesn’t love you? What if Simon leaves? What if you don’t like your own baby? What if you can’t bond with him? What if you suck at this? 

Theo gurgles, a small noise, and you try to shift to alleviate some of the pressure on your back. Pain zings through you, the sting of your muscles seizing, and you gasp, loud enough that Simon is jerking awake, eyes scanning the room until they land on you and your hopeless form. 

“Need help?” You nod miserably, and he lifts Theo away from your body while you try to get situated. You watch him rock the baby easily, settling into a natural rhythm like it’s nothing, and try not to feel irritated. He’s a natural. How is possible that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is so good at this and you’re a failure? Tears prick along your waterline, and you slam your eyes shut, but not before one escapes down your cheek. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” A big, warm hand envelopes yours, and your emotions surge inside of you, sadness and love and anxiety swirling in your heart until you’re sniffling. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob and he looks stricken. 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For being such a mess.” 

“You just had a baby, Sass. And you have a huge wound in your stomach. You’re gonna be a mess for a bit.” 

“Yeah, b-but I can’t even take care of my… my own baby,” The words are slurred, pieced together through tears, and you try to catch your breath. He folds his hand around the back of your neck and leans forward, bringing Theo between your two bodies while your face nestles into him. “and you’re being so nice to me.” You cry aloud. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, sweet girl. You’re okay.” TWO babies. There are two babies in this stupid hospital room. You take a deep breath through your nose while Simon rubs your back, Theo blinking up at the two of you silently. “Did you get any sleep this morning?” 

“N- no.” He sighs as he pulls away, lips dragging across your temple gently and then up to your forehead to press a kiss there, soft and slow, lingering as long as he can. 

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” you shrug and wipe your eyes. “I’ll turn out the lights.”

“Wait.” Your hand shoots out to latch onto his in a panic. “Si. I- don’t go anywhere. Please?” 

“We’ll both be right here.” He assures you, folding your hand back into your lap with a squeeze before moving to flick the light off. “We’re right here, okay? Close your eyes.” He slides the reclining chair another half a foot closer to the bed, easing down into it with Theo secure in one arm, holding your hand with the other. He traces a thumb over the skin of your knuckles, and your eyes slip closed.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the straggly ends of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest beneath Simon’s t shirt. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. Your head is pounding, a headache ripping across the front of your brain, your stomach churning like you’re going to vomit up the breakfast you ate this morning. Your legs feel weak, or maybe it’s your body that feels heavy, but either way, you can hardly stand, leaning against the bathroom countertop for support. You focus on your breath, in and out, counting inhales and exhales, but there’s a buzzing sound in your ear, and the room suddenly feels dark, like your vision is cloudy.

When you close your eyes, you see a teenager walking towards you, a bomb wired to the vest he’s wearing.

You see Soap’s blood on your palms, you feel it slicking your skin up your forearms, you hear his grunts of pain as you pack his wound.

You see Simon outside the tent after you left, staring up at the helicopter as it took you away. You remember the unadulterated rage that coursed through your veins, the overwhelming feeling of anger that consumed your entire existence.

You see the faces of the first infantry troop you deployed with in the desert. The fresh-faced lieutenant, begging you to make sure his wife and kids get his death benefits while he dies in front of you, torso blown open, organs shredded by bullets. The private, from Louisiana, whose parents were long dead, but he told you about how sweet his baby sister was while the two of waited for a field medic that would be way too late.

You see your dad, the last time you ever saw his face, putting you on a plane to a country you knew nothing about while you screamed, your mother crying in his arms. The silver of the cross around his neck glinting in the afternoon sun.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. 

There’s a knock on the door and you snap to attention.

“Sass?” You fix your face in the mirror as well as you can before answering.

“Yeah, coming.”

It’s the familiar ring of a facetime call that wakes you, your head foggy with the cotton of deep sleep. You squint at the caller ID, Johnny’s name popping up across the screen accompanied by the soap emoji.  

“Hi.” You answer, voice still a little groggy. Simon is already lifting Theo from the bassinet, depositing him on your chest gently, and giving your shoulder a squeeze before he slumps back in the chair. 

“Sassafras, look at ‘im.” Theo’s just visible in the screen, and Johnny is grinning, hand partially covering his face because his eyes are suspiciously wet. “You did a grand job lass.” You smile at him in thanks, and Simon grunts from the chair right next to the bed. “Where’s the big guy?” 

“He's here.” You angle the camera, and Simon cracks a small smile under the mask. 

“Hey Johnny.” 

“Ghost! Yer a lucky man, LT.” Simon looks to you, something soft shining in his eyes before it disappears. 

“Yeah.” He reaches over, hand laying gently over top yours where it rests on Theo's back.

“He’s ready to meet Uncle Soap, whenever you get leave next. Feel free to come over this way.” You chime. “We, uh actually wanted to talk to you about being his godfather...” 

“No, we don’t.” Simon barks but you shake your head, moving the camera back to you. 

“Yes, we do. Ignore him. It was his idea, Johnny.” You shoot him a look. 

“Ah you two, I’m honored.” There’s a noise in the background, something loud, and Johnny looks away quickly, before returning to the screen. “Gotta run. Miss ya Sassy, and the grumpy bastard.” 

“Bye, Soap. Be safe, stay frosty.” Theo cries just as Johnny hangs up, and you pat his back slowly, murmuring above his ear. 

“What is it?” You soothe. “Hungry?” You bounce him slightly, all you can do from the bed, before looking up at Simon imploringly. “Si…” 

“C’mere” He pulls the baby from your arms, tilting him onto his back at a good angle for the bottle, before settling down next to you on the bed. “Like a champ.” He says proudly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips. 

“He’s got a good appetite.” You push your finger into his tiny fist, and he grabs onto it reflexively. “Like his dad I guess.” You tease and Simon smirks, leaning down to plant a kiss across your cheek.

Theo is screaming on the monitor. Both of you jolt awake, and Simon is out of bed before you can even say anything, hall light flicking on and floorboards creaking under his feet.

You glance at the clock. 3:32 AM. Well, at least he made it three hours. There’s a beeping sound inside your ear, and you cringe, shaking it away as you fully wake. Anxiety immediately blooms in your mind, and you take deep breaths to calm your heart. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You sit up slowly, shifting your hips until you’re fully upright, and Simon comes back.

“Hungry, I think.” He’s got Theo against his chest, blanket over his shoulder. His hair is all a mess, like the baby’s, and the sight of them together nearly makes you start crying. Your boys.

“Here.” You clear your throat. “I’ll take him, you grab the bottle?” He rubs his face sleepily and you rock Theo, trying to get his cries to calm down while you wait for the formula. “Shhh.” You make the hushing noise near his ear, to no avail.

The song comes easily. It’s not a lullaby, and you’re a shit singer, but since he was born, singing works better than humming, though you’re not sure why. You rock him in time with the beat you’re conjuring in your head, closing your eyes and imagining your voice is not terribly off key.

“I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again. Take me back to the night we met.” Theo cries, but more softly, a little hiccup shaking his chest. “And then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then I can tell myself, not to ride along with you.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking across the baby soft skin of his cheek. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” He’s gone silent, just looking up at you with big wide eyes now, and you smile down at him in the dim light of your bedside lamp. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost you. Take me back to the night we met.” 

When you look up, Simon’s standing in the doorway again, bottle in one hand, burp cloth in the other, frozen to the spot, staring at you.

“Hey.” He startles, like he was off somewhere else, and takes big strides until he’s sitting at your side, handing the bottle over. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, and you frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“I can put him back in the crib, if you want to lay down.” You gesture to his side of your bed, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. ’s fine.”

“You sure?” Theo sucks the bottle down with ease, and you prop him on your shoulder over the burp cloth. Simon leans forward, and presses his lips to your brow, hand resting on Theo’s back. He holds himself there, for a second, then two, and three, until he pulls away to touch his forehead to yours.

“I’m sure.”

The woman says your name, nodding at you from where she sits to the left of your bed.

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m a resident psychologist here, but I also do work for the VA.” You fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out and choose to smile politely instead. “I understand you have some concerns about postpartum depression.” 

“Yeah.” Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t been so painfully honest on the questionnaire your OB gave you. 

“Are you currently receiving any treatment for your PTSD?” 

“No.”

“Are you interested in receiving treatment for PTSD?” 

“Not really, I’ve done therapy before.” She nods thoughtfully. 

“Did your doctor go over everything with you about C-section recovery?” 

“Yeah, she did.” Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, something tells you to be more forthcoming, to be more open with this shrink, but it gets shut down before it can become a full thought. 

“Okay. I am going to give you my card. It has my office number on it and my email. You can reach out to me anytime you need to.” You give her another polite, lackluster look. She sighs. “Being a new mom can be hard, even for those who don’t have histories of trauma. There is no shame in needing help.” 

“I know. Thank you.” You hold the card up like its proof that you’re listening, like you can be trusted to call if you think you’re in trouble. She gives you a sympathetic smile as she makes to leave, reiterating that she wants you to call her if you need to. 

A heavy knock sounds on the door, and then Simon is standing in the room, medical mask on his face, sleeping baby cuddled against him. Just the sight of him holding Theo cleaves your heart in two, and you hold your arms out to them both, anxious to be near them. He gives the doctor a look when she passes, and then raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You alright?” Theo cries and you motion with your hands so you can hold him. 

“Yeah. Just usual shrink stuff.”

“Alright, come off it. It’s not that funny.” Simon’s jaw flexes as you try to hold back the laughter and fail. It hurts your stomach, but at the same time, it feels great. It feels real.

“Oh my god. I’m so- sorry. For laughing, it’s just-“ you stare down at the mess of burnt food in the pan, eyebrows creasing in sympathy when you look back up at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He scowls.

“I’ll order takeout.”

“No, no you don’t have to. We can make something else.”

“No.” He turns to stalk away, and you’re hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere, so strong that it nearly knocks you off balance, almost steals your breath. It feels familiar. It feels like Belize, and every second afterwards until he sent you away, it feels like waking up in the hospital to his face hovering over yours, it feels like watching him press his ear to your belly when Theo was still inside you. It feels like that night when the two of you sat on the roof of the safehouse in Belarus, after the botched extraction mission, the one that left him with twenty stitches in his thigh and you got that really bad burn on your arm. The roof where the two of you traded secrets, where he told you about his dad and you told him about yours. It feels like the night in Uruguay, when you and Johnny and him all went out and found a bar, when you got drunk and he pressed you against the brick wall in the alley, your legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried in your neck, whispering words you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. It feels like watching him cry in the operating room when he saw the baby for the first time, watching him become a dad, watching him beat the vicious cycle of trauma and abuse right before your eyes.

You wrap yourself around his waist before he can get too far away, molding your body to his back, and his hand comes down to where yours rests on his stomach.

“Sass?”

“Don’t. Just, stay here. Like this. For a minute.” He shifts, turning while keeping you pressed against him, until you’re resting your cheek on his chest, and he’s rubbing your back.

“You alright?” His voice is gentle, he’s always gentle with you now, and the realization makes the feeling grow even stronger.

“Yeah. I’m… Simon. I-“

Theo cries on the baby monitor. Insistent. Bossy, as Simon enjoys telling you, like his mum. 

You step away with a sigh.

“I’ll get him.” He kisses your forehead before heading up the stairs.

When he makes it back down, you’re scrubbing the pan out, charred food already deposited in the garbage can.

“There she is.” Simon says from behind you, and you turn to see Theo blinking in your direction, eyes wide and making little garbled cooing noises.

“Hi baby.” Simon shuffles him into your arms, and you sway side to side slowly. “You’re hungry.” You deduce, and he agrees with you, making an impatient crying sound, tiny fist swinging into the air. “I know, I know. Hang on.” You soothe. You settle yourself on the couch with a bottle, brushing against his cheek lightly to trigger the rooting reflex before plopping it in his mouth. He drinks greedily, eyes trying to slip shut once he’s had his fill, and Simon laughs from where he sits next to you.

“You’re good at this.” He says quietly. You balance Theo on your shoulder while you burp him, and then look at Simon like he’s off his rocker.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Sass.” He pauses. “And ya look good, holding my baby.” Your cheeks heat, and something clenches in your stomach. You shoot him a look and he grins like a fool, real happiness stretching across his face in spades. It’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, and you- “I know you’re struggling right now,” he pulls you out of your train of thought, eyes pensive, grin morphing into something bittersweet. “and it’s been hard, but… I’m here. For you. For Theo. I want us…” he trails off when Theo burps and you shift, cradling him back into a sleeping position. “I don’t know… what will happen, in the future, and I know I still got a lot, of making up to do. But I want this. With you. I want us to… be a family.” You study his knuckles, fingers bunched together with tension, the height of his shoulders under his ears. You expect to feel the unraveling force of your anger, the swell of rage towards him that has been lurking under the surface for so long, but it never comes. It simmers in the distance, cool and unprovoked, sitting silently and uneager. You wonder if it's temporary, if you’ll ever feel it again, the way you used to.

Instead, when you look at him, all you see is Simon. Theo’s dad. All you have is that feeling, the strong emotion that makes your head spin, and while you can’t get your mouth to form those three words, you feel the full force it when you look up at him with softness in your gaze and say,

“I think we already are, Si.”

#sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #reader was pregnant #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tw pregnancy #soft dad simon riley #reader is referred to as mom #simon x sass #ghost x reader #peaches writes

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 13/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, soft Ben

Word Count: 5442

A/N: This is part 13 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"So, how are things going with you and Ben?", she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. "You two seem to be getting along really well again, especially since you guys came back from vacation".

You flashed Annie a smile, trying to sound nonchalant as you replied, “Oh, you know how it is. We just talked, drank, and had fun while we were in Brazil”. Annie nodded, but her eyes betrayed a knowing glint as she continued, “And what about that little crush you had on him a few weeks ago? Seemed like there was something more going on”.

You felt a pang of panic, hoping Ben was too engrossed in the conversation with Butcher to overhear.

“Oh, that?”, you said, trying to brush it off. “Just a silly little crush, nothing serious”.

As Annie and Kimiko exchanged glances, Kimiko raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. Sensing your confusion, you sighed, asking her silently, "What?".

In response, Kimiko signed a few quick gestures, her hands moving with precision and clarity. Though you were still learning sign language, you understood her message clearly: he's not a good guy, and you shouldn't have a crush on him.

Her words struck a chord.

As Ben’s gaze lingered on you from afar, his ears caught every word of your conversation with Annie and Kimiko.

Meanwhile, Annie turned to you, her expression solemn. “Kimiko’s right, you know”, she said softly. “You shouldn’t let yourself get too caught up with someone like him”.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Someone like him? Like what?”, you asked, crossing your arms as you waited for their explanation.

Again Annie exchanged a meaningful look with Kimiko before speaking again. “Someone who’s… complicated”, she replied carefully. “You know he’s not the easiest person to deal with”.

Kimiko nodded in agreement, her expression serious. “He’s dangerous”, she signed, her hands moving swiftly to convey her message. “You should be careful”.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “He never hurt me”, you insisted, feeling the need to defend Ben, despite all the warning signs.

Annie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Well, not on purpose maybe”, she countered, her tone tinged with concern. Kimiko’s hands moved, “He’s just a massive red flag”.

“He’s got PTSD, he’s never sober, always on coke, and let’s not forget, he’s a fucking misogynist”.

"I know," you admitted quietly, your gaze drifting back to Ben.

Annie sighed, her expression softening with concern. "Just be careful, okay? You shouldn't catch any kind of feelings for him", she warned, her tone gentle but firm.

You scoffed, feeling a pang of frustration. "I know he's not perfect, but he's not a bad guy", you insisted, though doubt lingered in your mind.

Annie's expression grew serious. "Remember his short temper and his aggressive mood swings", she reminded you, her voice low. "his lack of empathy and emotions. He's not capable of loving someone".

As Annie’s words sank in, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Despite your conflicted feelings for Ben, the reality of his volatile nature and emotional detachment weighed heavily on your mind. Before you could respond, Kimiko signed to you, “You could literally easily die. Since you’re just a human, Ben could crush you at any time with ease”.

You sighed, trying to dismiss the heaviness of the conversation. "Let's just drop it", you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I don't have any feelings for him, and I never will".

You hoped your words sounded convincing, but deep down, you knew they were a lie. However, unbeknownst to you, Ben overheard your declaration from afar, a dark look crossing his features as he listened.

Annie couldn’t shake her concern for you, her eyes still filled with worry as she turned back to you. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt”, Annie said softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

“I know”, you replied quietly, feeling the weight of her words.

Annie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her gaze filled with compassion. “Soldier boy could never give you what you need”, she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As Ben sat amidst the discussion with Butcher, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Emotions swirled within him, a turbulent mix of frustration, insecurity, and a hint of longing. He couldn't bear the thought of you thinking poorly of him, but he was at a loss for what to do.

From the kitchen, you glanced over at Ben, your gaze lingering on him for a moment. But Ben, determined to maintain his facade, pretended to be engrossed in the conversation with Butcher, his expression carefully neutral.

Unknown to you, his heart ached with the desire to reach out to you, to reassure you that he wasn't as bad as you might think. But his pride and his own internal struggles kept him rooted in place.

Annie caught your gaze lingering on Ben, and she shot you a knowing look, her expression tinged with sarcasm.

"Sure thing", she muttered sarcastically, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Not catching feelings at all, huh?".

You felt a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks, but you quickly averted your gaze, unable to meet Annie's knowing eyes. Deep down, you knew she was right, but admitting it was another matter entirely.

As everyone got ready to eat, you busied yourself with setting the table, focusing on the task at hand to distract yourself from your swirling thoughts.

Just as you reached for the salad on the kitchen counter, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, Ben's voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want you in my room later, when everyone's asleep", he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You tensed at his words, a rush of anticipation mingled with apprehension flooding through you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met his gaze briefly before nodding in silent agreement.

Annie glanced over at you and Ben but didn’t notice the subtle gesture of intimacy exchanged between you. Ben’s gentle touch as he brushed over your lower back went unnoticed by anyone else as he smoothly made his way to the table to join the rest of the team.

As you sat down beside Ben, your thoughts raced with a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties. The subtle touch from earlier lingered in your mind, adding to the anticipation of what might unfold later that night.

Across the table, you noticed Butcher's sharp gaze fixed on you, a flicker of curiosity evident in his expression. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling a surge of discomfort under his scrutiny.

You helped yourself to some food, your mind buzzed with thoughts of Annie and Kimiko's warnings. Their words echoed in your mind.

As everyone fell into small talk, the atmosphere around the table became relaxed, but Ben remained his usual quiet self, showing little interest in engaging with anyone else except you. Similarly, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, exchanging occasional glances with Annie whenever Ben's eyes were fixed on you.

Despite the casual chatter around you, a tension lingered in the air, palpable in the way Ben's gaze seemed to follow you, his attention solely focused on you amidst the distractions of the dinner table.

As you felt Ben's knee nudge yours under the table, you looked up at him, but he didn't raise his gaze from his plate. Instead, his hand found its way onto your thigh under the table, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You shot him a questioning glance, but he remained focused on his food.

Despite your expectations, Ben's touch remained surprisingly innocent. His hand simply lay on your thigh.

As you tried to make sense of his actions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mingled with confusion. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes about the complexity of your relationship with Ben.

About an hour later you found yourself in the midst of self-defense and fighting practice with MM and Butcher, the adrenaline pumping through your veins masked the lingering tension from dinner. Despite the physical exertion, your mind couldn't help but drift back to the earlier conversation and the anticipation of what awaited you later with Ben.

MM's voice cut through your thoughts, breaking your concentration. "Focus, kid", he said firmly, his tone demanding. "You need to keep your guard up".

You nodded, refocusing your attention on the task at hand. "Right, sorry", you replied, determined to prove yourself amidst the flurry of punches and kicks.

Butcher chimed in, his voice gruff but encouraging. "Good effort, lass. Keep at it, and you'll be holding your own in no time".

But as your thoughts swirled with images of Ben, you lost focus again, failing to anticipate Butcher's next move. Before you knew it, his fist connected with your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Oi! Pay attention, will ya?", Butcher barked, his tone gruff but not unkind as he offered you a hand up.

As you struggled to regain your footing, Butcher’s voice cut through the haze of embarrassment. “Seems like your mind’s elsewhere, lass. Can’t afford that when you’re in a fight”.

You accepted his hand gratefully, shooting him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Butcher. Just got a bit distracted”, you admitted, trying to shake off the embarrassment. Butcher’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held a hint of amusement. “Well, keep your head in the game, or next time it might be a bit harder”, he warned, his tone gruff but encouraging.

Meanwhile, Ben stood in the doorframe, his smirk widening as he watched the exchange. He couldn't resist adding his own commentary. "Seems like someone's got no practice in anything", he teased, hinted at your recent loss of virginity without outright saying it.

You felt a flicker of annoyance at his comment, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you shot back with a defiant glare. "You want to talk about practice? Maybe you should switch with Butcher, and I'll whip your arrogant supe ass instead", you retorted.

Butcher chuckled, while Ben's smirk only widened. "Touché", he replied, his tone amused as he sauntered into the room, ready to join in on the training session.

"I'd love to see you try", Ben taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

"Bring it on", you challenged, your pulse racing with anticipation.

As Ben walked past you, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips, MM and Butcher exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in silent communication.

MM muttered under his breath, "This is gonna get messy".

Butcher nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he watched the tension between you and Ben unfold.

Ben stood casually across from you, his attire relaxed in sweatpants and a black hoodie. He seemed unimpressed by your challenge, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart", he taunted. "You really think you can take me on?".

"Watch me".

Ben chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked you up and down. "I like a bit of fight in a girl", he replied. "But let's see if you can back up that little attitude of yours”.

Ben's smirk widened as he met your defiant gaze. "Don't say I didn't warn you", he said. "I won't go easy on you”.

You met Ben's gaze head-on, the challenge sparking between you like electricity. "I bet, old man", you shot back.

Butcher cleared his throat, his tone stern as he addressed Ben. "Remember, mate, she's just a human. Keep those supe powers in check", he warned, his gaze flicking between the two of you. Ben shrugged off Butcher's warning with a cocky smirk. "I'll play nice", he replied, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. "At least until she gives me a reason not to".

The sparring began, and you moved with agility, trying to anticipate Ben's every move. But no matter how fast you were, he was always a step ahead, effortlessly blocking each of your strikes with precision.

As the fight continued, the tension between you grew palpable. At one point, Ben caught you off guard, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind as he blocked another of your moves. You could feel the heat of his body pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Despite the intensity of the moment, there was an undeniable thrill in the closeness of your bodies, the adrenaline of the fight mingling with a different kind of arousal. Ben found it incredibly hot that you were trying to fight him, his own desire flaring as he held you tightly against him.

Ben’s breath grew heavy against your ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “You’re feisty, I’ll give you that”, he murmured, his tone teasing and flirtatious.

You gritted your teeth, determined to push through the distraction and maintain your composure.

As Ben's arm tightened around your neck, you reacted instinctively, sinking your teeth into his flesh. With a sharp intake of breath, he loosened his grip, giving you the opportunity to break free.

Seizing the moment, you launched yourself at him, catching him off guard and managing to throw him to the ground. But in the heat of the struggle, you ended up straddling his lap, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked down at him, a mix of triumph and uncertainty in your eyes.

Ben's gaze met yours, his expression a mixture of surprise and admiration. Despite being momentarily overpowered, there was a glint of respect in his eyes as he looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

Ben's hands gripped your hips firmly, you couldn't help but feel the light pressure of his erection underneath you, sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightened, almost crushing, but it only added to the rush of arousal coursing through you.

Ben seized the opportunity to roll you over, quickly reversing the position. Now, he knelt above you, his hand tight around your neck, asserting his dominance. With a smirk, he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Looks like I've got you right where I want you, sweetheart. You always did have a knack for getting yourself into trouble".

As you struggled beneath him, Ben's firm grip held you in place, his dominance undeniable. Despite your efforts to break free, his strength was overwhelming, leaving you pinned beneath him. With a defiant glare, you tried to push against his hold, but it was no use.

Ben's smirk only widened as he maintained his control over you. Meanwhile, Butcher, who had been observing the exchange with a critical eye, couldn't hide his disapproval. "Oi, enough of that, mate", he interjected gruffly, stepping forward with a stern expression. "Keep your eyes off her, she ain't some bloody toy for you to play with".

Ben's smirk faltered slightly at Butcher's interruption, but he didn't release his grip on you. Instead, he met Butcher's gaze with a challenging glare of his own, the tension between them palpable. With a snarky smirk, Ben quipped, "Someone's feeling a bit overprotective today, aren't they, Butcher?".

Butcher's jaw tightened at the remark, his expression stern as he stepped closer to Ben. "I ain't being overprotective", he retorted firmly. "I'm just reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You may be invincible, mate, but she isn't".

With an eye roll, Ben finally released his grip on you and offered his hand to help you up. However, his tug was way too strong, causing you to stumble against his chest as you regained your footing.

"Easy there", he chuckled, his tone light but tinged with amusement as he steadied you.

You shot him a playful glare, rubbing your sore arm where his grip had been particularly tight. "You could've been more gentle, you know", you muttered, unable to hide the hint of annoyance in your voice.

Ben merely shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm a soldier, sweetheart. If I fight, I fight", he teased, his tone unapologetic.

You rolled your eyes at his cavalier attitude.

MM chimed in with a sigh, his voice carrying a note of exasperation. "You're just getting too distracted", he remarked, his tone firm but not unkind.

Ben, unusually serious for once, nodded in agreement. "He´s right", he added, his gaze meeting yours briefly. "Against any supe, there's no time for distractions".

You bristled at the criticism, feeling the weight of their expectations bearing down on you. "It was my first damn practice session", you retorted, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "Cut me some slack".

Despite your defiant tone, there was a part of you that couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were right. You needed to focus if you were going to stand a chance against any real threats.

Butcher approached you, his hand came to rest gently on your lower back, a silent gesture of reassurance. "Hey, not bad for your first go", he said, his tone gruff but approving. "You just need to work on keeping your focus, that's all".

You nodded, grateful for his encouragement.

Meanwhile, Ben's gaze flickered to Butcher's hand on your lower back, a surge of possessiveness stirring within him. He clenched his jaw, a brief flicker of jealousy crossing his features, but he quickly pushed it aside, not wanting to make a scene.

As Butcher and MM began to leave the room, Ben lingered behind for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. With a subtle nod to Butcher, he indicated that he would follow shortly.

Once they were out of earshot, Ben turned his attention back to you, his expression unreadable. "You did alright", he remarked, his tone casual but tinged with a hint of something else.

You met his gaze, feeling a mixture of relief and tension in the air. "Thanks", you replied, your voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "Guess I still have a lot to learn".

Ben's lips quirked into a smirk as he took a step closer, the air between you charged with an undeniable energy. "Don't worry", he said, his voice low and teasing. "I'm sure I can teach you a thing or two".

As the evening wore on and everyone settled into sleep, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, contemplating your options. Unsure of what Ben wanted from you, you decided that your grandma panties would be better left in the closet.

Examining yourself in the mirror, you opted for something a little more alluring, selecting a pair of underwear that hugged your curves in all the right places. As you slipped them on, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mingled with nervousness.

You approached Ben's room with cautious steps, the anticipation building with each quiet footfall. As you pushed the door open, you found him sitting shirtless on his bed, a joint dangling from his fingertips while he scrolled through his phone.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated his features, casting shadows across his chiseled chest. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. With a deep breath, you entered the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

Ben looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in your appearance. His gaze lingered on you with a mixture of amusement and desire, sending a shiver down your spine.

"What are you waiting for?", he asked, his voice low and husky. "C´mere."

His invitation was both a command and a plea, and you felt yourself drawn to him irresistibly. With a nervous smile, you approached the bed, anticipation building with each step.

As Ben set his phone aside, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He sat up slightly, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively.

"You look good", he murmured.

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment, the warmth spreading through you at his gaze. "Thanks".

As Ben pulled you onto his lap, his hands firm on your hips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mixed with nervousness. Despite the intimacy of the moment, he didn't make any further moves, leaving you to wonder what he was thinking.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position on his lap, the tension between you palpable. "What are we doing?", you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of what to expect next.

As Ben brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet possessive, a shiver ran down your spine. His fingers lingered for a moment, his gaze locked with yours, before he spoke.

"Just sit still", he murmured. Despite the simplicity of his words, there was an underlying intensity that made it impossible to disobey.

You complied with his command, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his eyes tracing every curve and contour of your body. Despite your efforts to suppress the nervous fluttering in your stomach, the intensity of the moment was undeniable.

Ben's hands remained firm on your hips, his touch both possessive and reassuring. "Good girl", he murmured, his voice low and tinged with satisfaction. "Just like that".

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing heartbeat as you focused on maintaining your stillness. With Ben's eyes on you, every moment felt charged with anticipation, each passing second heightening the tension between you.

"You know, I could make it even more enjoyable for you if you'd let me", Ben whispered, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

Despite the ache throbbing between your legs, you refused to let on to Ben about your discomfort. With a forced smile, you brushed off his suggestion, trying to conceal the twinge of pain that shot through you with every movement.

"I'm fine", you replied, your voice strained as you shifted slightly on his lap.

Deep down, you hoped he wouldn't press further, unwilling to admit to the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface.

Ben's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he observed your strained expression, well aware of your attempt to downplay your discomfort. His usual indifference softened slightly as he decided to play along, his tone laced with teasing amusement.

"Sure you are", he replied with a playful glint in his eyes. "You're not fucking sore at all, are you? All that fighting practice must have toughened you up".

You simply shook your head.

Ben leaned back slightly, studying your expression with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Alright, tough girl”, he teased, his tone light but his eyes searching yours. “If you say so”.

Despite his teasing, there was a subtle warmth in his gaze, a silent reassurance that he was there, even if he didn’t verbalize it. He wanted to prove to you, in his own way, that he wasn’t as callous as others perceived him to be.

You met his gaze with determination, refusing to let your discomfort show. “I’m fine”, you insisted, your voice firm, now pushing aside any sign of weakness and pain.

“So, if you’re really not sore”, he began, his tone suggestive, “You up for another round?”.

Your cheeks flushed at his bold question, but you held his gaze steadily.

Seeing your flushed cheeks, Ben couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement mixed with a tinge of curiosity. "Come on", he urged, his tone coaxing. "You can tell me how you really feel. I won't bite".

You hesitated, torn between wanting to maintain your facade of strength and the desire to be honest with him. After a moment of internal struggle, you sighed, conceding to his persistence. "Okay, fine", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I'm a little sore".

Ben's smirk softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "There, was that so hard?", he teased, his touch light against your skin. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you", he winked.

As Ben's hands traced lazily over your hips, slipping under your top and skimming along your sides and back, you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of his touch against your soft skin.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingertips dancing lightly over your curves as if exploring every inch of you. "You're so soft", he murmured.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the fluttering in your stomach as his touch sent tingles of electricity coursing through you. "Ben", you whispered, your voice barely a breath as his hands continued to explore your body.

Ben's touch lingered on your skin, his fingers tracing the bruises on your hips with a mix of curiosity and guilt. "I won't fuck you", he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "But touching should be allowed".

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions wash over you. Despite his insistence on not taking things further, the heat of his touch ignited a fire within you, a primal desire that threatened to consume your self-control.

His gaze met yours as he traced the marks on your skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you", he admitted quietly. "I guess I underestimated my strength".

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to find the right response.

Ben’s touch softened as he spoke, his fingers stilling on your skin as he met your gaze again, this time with sincerity.

“I’m not a bad guy”, he began, his voice quiet but earnest. “But I’m not exactly good either. I’m just… not used to every situation like this”. He paused, his gaze flickering to where his fingertips lingered on your skin. “Especially when it comes to…”, he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to you, unable to find the right words.

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his eyes stirring something deep within you. "When it comes to what?", you asked softly, your curiosity piqued as you searched his eyes for answers.

Ben hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "When it comes to… you", he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I don't… I'm not good at this", he added, his words trailing off as he struggled to find the right way to express himself without sounding vulnerable.

Despite knowing you shouldn't push Ben too much, your curiosity got the better of you. You were beyond curious about what he was trying to say.

"About me?", you pressed gently, hoping he would open up further.

But Ben's expression hardened slightly, a hint of frustration flickering in his eyes. "Forget it", he muttered dismissively, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "It doesn't matter".

Before you could press him further, Ben cut you off by leaning in and kissing you with such passion that it took your breath away. The intensity of his kiss made you feel like you were soaring, momentarily distracting you from your questions and uncertainties.

As Ben turned you both, his body hovering above yours, he deepened the kiss before trailing his lips along your jawline. Between kisses, he murmured, "You know I was patient with you, right? I didn't rush you when we… you know".

His words were soft, almost pleading, as if he wanted to convince you that he wasn't as bad as Annie and the others insisted.

As the intensity of the moment enveloped you both, your voices turned into whispers, matching the intimacy of the scene. Ben's hands traced softly along your sides, his touch gentle yet electric as he continued to pepper kisses along your jaw.

"I know I can be a handful", he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "But I've always been patient with you, haven't I?".

His lips continued their featherlight exploration over your skin, tracing every contour of your face and neck with painstaking slowness. The sensation was intoxicating, consuming your senses entirely.

With a soft sigh, you whispered in response, your voice barely above a breathy murmur, "You have…always been patient".

As his lips lingered against your skin, he paused for a moment before lifting his head slightly to meet your gaze. "I always made you feel good, right?", he asked, his voice low.

You met his gaze, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming as you whispered back, "Yes, Ben".

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Good", he murmured, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Ben's hands gently cradled your face, his touch tender yet possessive. Between breathless moments, he whispered, "You know that Blondie and the rest just hate me? I would never hurt you".

His words sent a jolt through you, realizing that he had overheard your conversation earlier. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his vulnerability hung in the air, a silent plea for understanding.

With a hint of possessiveness, he continued, his voice laced with urgency, "They don't know you like I do. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you".

His words resonated with a protective edge, revealing a side of him you hadn't fully seen before.

With a determined edge to his voice, he added, "When I'm on that mission for the next two weeks, I need to know you're safe. And I don't want any other man near you, understand?".

With a hint of shyness, you asked, "But why? We're not together".

"I won't touch you ever again if anyone else does", he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ben's lips curled into a smirk as he added, "And trust me, sweetheart, you wouldn't want to see me angry if someone else lays a finger on you".

"And just so we're clear", Ben continued, his voice low and possessive, "this pretty pussy is mine now. Got it?".

As Ben's lips trailed down your neck, he sucked lightly on your skin, urging you to answer with a low, demanding growl.

"Tell me", he murmured between kisses, his voice husky with desire. "Whose pretty pussy is it?".

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Yours", you finally whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your racing heart.

Ben's lips curved into a satisfied smirk against your skin as he heard your response. "That's right, doll", he murmured. "All mine".

Ben's smirk turned into a mischievous grin as he leaned back slightly to meet your gaze. "And since you're too sore for me to fuck you properly", he teased, his voice low and suggestive, "I'm gonna eat that pretty pussy of yours so good, you won't be able to think about something else for the next two weeks".

As Ben's lips trailed down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake, a shiver of anticipation ran through you. His touch was electric, sending tingles of pleasure dancing along your skin.

You let out a soft sigh as his lips hovered just above the waistband of your shorts, the anticipation building with each passing moment. "Ben", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you with a wicked grin, his eyes dark with desire. "Don't worry, sweetheart", he whispered huskily, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm gonna make you forget everything but me".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 14

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mostlymarvelgirl @meowmeowyoongles

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher

[delzinrowe]

How do you explain a feeling? - Choso

WORD COUNT: ~2.2K WARNINGS: None. F!Reader SUMMARY: Choso's still learning to understand different human emotions, this time "love". A/N: I have no excuse for this, it's pretty much garbage, but enjoy

There was no word to describe the sheer absurdity of how Choso’s life had changed over the course of a few short weeks.

All he had known in the past was to fight for his brothers. Admittedly, his past did not hold a lot of memorable moments due to being stuck in a tiny tube and contained, sealed away from humanity.

Now that he stood on the good side of this fight, after most of the battles had been fought, he was almost displaying a childlike eagerness to learn about human traditions and customs. One subject that plagued his mind mostly were human emotions and feelings. How different people were. It showed in their vastly different reactions to certain situations, or even hardships.

Was it inappropriate to say that it fascinated him? Maybe. However, this was his home now, among humans. It was a strange feeling to be accepted, even if it was only by a handful of sorcerers who would most definitely be classified as abnormal humans either way. Accepted nonetheless.

Among all these new sensations, lessons, experiences, and situations he found himself confronted with, there was a particularly enchanting one; Y/N.

Whenever the female sorcerer was around there was a certain feeling of warmth in his chest. Something he could not quite describe, much less understand. It was odd, really. He didn’t feel it with anyone else, only her.

At times when he wasn’t attentive she would sneak up on him, and after successfully scaring the bejesus out of him she would let out this heartfelt laugh. Maybe it was only a chuckle, maybe it was a giggle. All he knew was that the sound of it was just about the most welcoming sound he had ever heard. Except for when his name would drop from her lips.

Sometimes Yuji would shoot him a gaze that Choso couldn’t read, with raised eyebrows, a slightly tilted head and a smirk on his lips while nodding towards her. But the half-human being was left puzzled whenever he received this particular gaze from his little brother. Couldn’t he just tell him with words what he wanted to say? Why did humans feel the need to make it all complicated by using body language which no rational thinking being would be capable of decoding?

Yuji’s non-verbal messages had him guessing more than the feeling in his chest whenever Y/N was near. And ultimately, Choso decided to confront his little brother about this strange thing he did. He loved his brother and he would fight for him to the death, but for fuck’s sake, he needed clear words to understand whatever the hell he wanted to tell him.

———

It only took the half-curse half-human being around half an hour to find Yuji and as he approached his little brother he was glad that no one else was around. However, before Choso even had the chance to say a single word Yuji already spoke up.

“Hey Choso, how are things going with Y/N?”, once again he had this confusing expression on his face. His eyebrows were raised but his lips curled into a smile. The tone he used made it all the more difficult for Choso to understand his little brother. “Just what do you mean?” Even without this choice of words Choso’s tone of voice made it quite clearjust how confused he seemed.

“Oh come on, I can see how you look at her and how you blush. You like her, it’s obvious.”, Yuji stated his reply, much to Choso’s horror.

It took the older one more than just a minute to process everything, his face mimicking a grimace now. Was that the strange feeling? Was it really possibly that it was of romantic nature? The thought never crossed his mind. It seemed way too absurd, after all he was a half-curse half-human being. He didn’t even know that he could feel anything like that.

Yuji must have seen on Choso’s face how the wheels started turning inside his head, causing the younger one to out a heartfelt laugh.

“I know I’m not the brightest, but even I noticed how whipped you seem for her.”

Choso could only guess the meaning of the word ‘whipped’, although that wasn’t his main focus at this point.

He barely had a chance to even think of his words when Yuji already spoke up again.

“Listen, you’re half-human, you’re capable of love. Right now I think that’s exactly what you are feeling. If you want my advice, go and tell her.” Wasn’t it ironic how the little brother gave such a mature commentary and even offered advice when it should have been the other way around? As the eldest of the death paintings Choso always felt responsible for taking the lead and offering advice. However, the topic of love was never brought up. For who would ever love a curse?

A pat on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and his gaze lifted towards Yuji. He watched his little brother give him a thumbs up and eventually walking away.

No amount of thoughts could have prepared him for the conversation he just had. Love? It was a word he wasn’t familiar with, at least not the romantic kind. The only form of love he ever felt was the one towards his brothers. But that was nowhere near as intense as what he felt when Y/N was around. Maybe Yuji was right? Was he truly capable of this type of love? And even if he was… what did that mean? What was he supposed to do now?

‘Tell her.’ Yuji’s words rang in his ears, repeating in his mind like a command he wasn’t sure he could follow. Choso was prone to overthink certain scenarios, with this being a major cause for overthinking.

———

Even hours after his conversation with Yuji Choso couldn’t think about anything else than his little brother’s words. He needed to do something about all of this, right now. If that required him to talk to Y/N then he’d do that. Anything to finally clear up that foggy chaos in his mind.

It didn’t take him long to find Y/N. As usual she’d be around the training grounds, sitting somewhere at the side while observing the younger ones during their training. But this time there was no one fighting or trying out new weapons. Besides her, the training grounds were empty.

“What are you doing here alone?”, Choso’s sudden question almost made Y/N jump. What an embarrassing thought to admit that she was lost in thoughts and didn’t hear his heavy steps…

“Nothing really, just thinking.” She didn’t bother to look up at him as she responded, knowing fully well that he would eventually sit down next to her like he had done so many times before.

Although this time she seemed to wait in vain when Choso simply kept standing close to her. He didn’t even approach her. Was something wrong? Had she accidentally offended him in any way?

“What is love?” The question had caught her entirely off guard, even causing her eyes to widen before she furrowed them and looked at him puzzled. “What is *love*? Why that’s a damn random.”

“My apologies if I-”, Was it a bad question? Should he have waited for a better time? Either way, Choso’s apology was quickly interrupted.

“No, no. It’s alright.” Her gaze returned to a soft smile. With a tilted head she examined his features. “Are you asking for a specific reason or do you just want a general understanding of the human emotion called love?”

The way she looked at him, her voice almost gentle as she asked. How come she was so kind to him? The only good thing he ever did was side with Yuji. There was no reason for her to be so understanding and accepting of him, but there she was, trying to make sense of something other people would have just laughed at.

There it was again… this warm feeling in his chest. Something he just couldn’t quite describe. For a moment too long Choso got lost in his own thoughts before he remembered that he still had to answer her question. “A general understanding.”

A hum was all she responded with. His gaze lowered towards her as if he had tunnel vision. Everything around him was suddenly drown out. The rustling of the trees that surrounded the training grounds, the birds chirping away on some branches not too far away, the river nearby gurgling with fresh water. It all seemed muted, all he could focus on in this moment was Y/N.

“Well, I don’t speak for everyone but to me love is the warmest sensation I ever experienced. When you walk into a warm room after spending hours outside, and your fingers get those tingly feelings. Do you know what I mean? Iin the most positive way, it’s like that for me. Only a thousand times stronger.”

She wasn’t really sure what kind of answer to give him, or what exactly he wanted to know about love, all she knew was what she felt. Hopefully describing this would be helpful.

“Love can be everywhere, between family, friends and partners. But since you have brothers I guess you know the platonic kind of love anyways.” A warm smile was sent his way as she tilted her head once more. He still stood next to her, not having moved at all.

“But the romantic kind of love… That’s entirely different. For me personally, it’s when I can’t stop thinking of someone all day despite them being close by. Or when I catch myself missing them but it’s only been a minute since I saw them. It’s when the mere mention or thought of them makes me smile so brightly that I forget all my worries.”

Choso took in every single word she said. He figurtivaly hung on her lips like a dried leaf refusing to part from tree branch in late autumn. Did she always smile at him this way? Were her eyes always sparkling when the sun shone on it?

“Love is genuine happiness, it’s wanting to be with someone and being willing to do anything it takes to make that person happy. There are a lot more words and ways to describe it, but with the way you’re staring at me I think I’m failing pretty miserably.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle with the way he had been looking at her. She couldn’t read his gaze, all she knew was that the intensity of it was almost enough to cause her chest to tighten.

“You didn’t fail at all. I think I understand.” Choso’s remark was short but enough to intrigue her, eliciting another soft chuckle as she stood up to be closer to his eyes.

“Then what’s love to you?”, she asked with a quiet hum at the end of her words, her smile still evident but having dwindled by a bit.

Within a second his mind went completely blank. There was a peculiar sound in his ears, it sounded like drumming. Was that his heart? Did it actually beat as loud as it sounded to him? For a second he thought it would jump out of his ribcage.

“You.” There it was, his one word answer, dropping from his lips so casually, yet it left a burning sensation on his lips. But he felt the need to clarify as soon as he saw her widened eyes.

“I love you.”

Choso had seen some romance movies with Yuji before. He knew how these thoughts were supposed to happen on the screen. What he didn’t know was how to react when Y/N didn’t respond.

Seconds passed until she finally sucked in a deep breath, letting it go in a sigh only moments later. When the corners of her lips lifted into a smile he felt a weight fall off his chest. This had to be a good sign. She was smiling at him. The possibility of a heartbreak didn’t even cross his mind. When he focused on her smile nothing bad would ever come to his mind.

“I love you too.” Was it a bit early to say these words? Surely, but she knew that she had been crushing hard on Choso ever since he joined their side. He had always had such a gentle nature to him, despite being a half-curse. In some ways, she thought he was probably the most gentle soul she ever met. 

Y/N felt an overwhelming urge to be close to him, but even after confessing their feelings she felt somewhat too insecure to initiate anything. Or perhaps it was exactly because of it that she felt shy.

Choso on the other hand didn’t think twice about his actions. An overwhelming sense of happiness surged through him. He remembered the phrase “having butterflies in your stomach”, it felt fitting but he was still bewildered by the metaphor. Nonetheless, he wasted no time wrapping his arms around Y/N and engulfing her in what was definitely the tightest hug they had ever shared.

He remembered how he choose the life as curses with his brothers, when he convinced himself it was due to his brothers not being accepted by humans. But right now he was eternally thankful that he followed Yuji into a life among humans and sorcerers. This life that was filled with new friends, new sensations, new emotions.

A life he was determined to live to the fullest, with her by his side.

#stef writes #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #kamo x reader #kamo choso brainrot #kamo choso imagine #kamo choso scenario #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso x reader fluff #kamo choso x you #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

[sunkissed-zegras]

👒 i love angsty jack hughes

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 668

♡ ─ warnings | angst angst ANGST! unrequited love, but thats it

♡ ─ ev's notes | oh YES WE DO. angsty jack is so underrated

For your entire life, you had been chasing after Jack. Ever since you'd been a teenager, he was a big part of your life. He could do no wrong in your eyes - and when he did, there was somehow a way to justify it because somehow, you knew he loved you.

But this was it, he had finally done it.

You scoffed and got up from the lawn chair, running back inside as you felt the lump in your throat begin to form. You had given him all the chances in the world and somehow, someway he still found a way to choose someone over you; like he always did.

"Y/N! Fuck, come back." Jack's voice echoed through the home as you walked off to the garage, to drive home. As you stormed into the garage, the weight of the situation bore down on you. The scent of gasoline and the dim light from a single hanging bulb filled the space. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with the keys to your car, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

"What's wrong?" Jack's voice sounded desperate.

You turned to face him, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. "What's wrong? How could you." You spoke bitterly.

Jack's expression shifted between confusion and remorse, his eyes searching yours for some semblance of understanding. "Y/N, please. Just tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it."

The lump in your throat grew as you tried to contain the emotions bubbling within you. "You chose her. You chose her again, over me."

"What do you mean?" Jack watched and you could see the guilt in his eyes. He knows, he's just acting stupid.

"Open your fucking eyes, Jack!" Your shout echoed throughout the garage, your frustration evident. Jack looked taken aback as he gazed back at you. "I've been waiting for you since... I don't even remember. I chose you every single time and you chose everyone except me. And you knew. You knew I loved you and took full advantage of the fact that I'd do anything for you. and I knew that, I just kept at it hoping that one day you'd finally choose me back."

Jack's face contorted with realization. "Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. I didn't think it would end up like this."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "You never meant to hurt me? Do you even hear yourself, Jack? You've been hurting me for years, and I've been fooling myself into thinking you'd change."

He took a hesitant step closer, his desperation palpable. "I care about you, more than you know. It's just complicated."

"How is choosing me complicated?" Your voice sounded soft, hurt evident in your tone. Jack didn't know what to say, how to fix this situation - but the truth was, he couldn't. Tears threatened to spill over, but you refused to let them. You had shed enough tears over Jack, wasted enough time hoping for a love that would never be reciprocated.

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. "I know I've made mistakes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped loving you."

With a heavy heart, you took a step back, creating a chasm between you and the man who had once been the center of your world. "I can't do this anymore, Jack," you whispered, the words a final plea for understanding.

He reached out, his hand trembling as if searching for something to hold onto. "Please, don't leave," he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. The silence stretched between you, heavy with emotion. Jack's eyes brimmed with remorse, his expression a mirror of the regret etched into your own heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words a desperate plea for forgiveness. But forgiveness wasn't something you could give lightly, not when the wounds ran so deep.

He'd lost the realest thing he'd ever had.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey #nhl oneshot #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #luke hughes #hughes brothers #new jersey devils

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

calling it internalized ableism if you will, call it harsh reality of being nonverbal full time AAC user if you will, at this point don’t know difference anymore thanks to people scream, but:

some times truly wish can mouth speak instead. sometimes wish not need AAC for literal everything.

thankful not get this feeling much now, help that speech was pain entire life so while grief & out of control but also see it go feel like release of burden

except specific situations.

wish can tell partner “i love you” with mouth words. wish can have intimate deeply personal conversation with mouth words.

and. wish can have adult time with mouth words. —that as much as willing share, but. there are many things within that

don’t get wrong: AAC can be intimate (both in sense of emotional intimacy n adult time). AAC can be personal. say “love you” with AAC can weigh same and be same intimate as mouth speak.

but, as nonverbal full time AAC user, when have no choice in matter, can’t help but feel sometimes it isn’t.

robot voice. no emotion. no tone. click button.

for AAC users, use AAC because say things sometimes hard or impossible all times. but. sometimes things hard to say for a lot people, anyone, even people without speech language social communication disabilities, in very different way—content of thing difficult say. n while yes, shouldn’t make self do hard stuff just because. but other sonetimes, specific situations, do feel like hard time say thing… give extra meaning. n when do finally say, make conversation even more intimate.

AAC not get rid of language communication issues, many times say thing with AAC still hard. and for most things don’t want hard when their easier accessible version. but. during these specific instances. when rather than try muster courage push words out, just press some buttons. it easy way out, it cheating, and it gets rid of the hard part, empty robot voice through buttons and device, not as intimate.

which is simplification. because act of typing, or selecting buttons, or spelling, or however you access AAC, can still be hard. can still be hard say “i love you” for first time with AAC.

but. just. like. frustrates me.

no moral of the story other than i guess AAC complicated and can’t just blanket say “AAC same as mouth speak” and “no down side only joy” and leave as that because. yes, can be true. but also no, can often feel more complicated. and AAC users, allowed feel more complicated about own AAC use

#loaf screm #nonverbal #aac #aac user

[y-rhywbeth2]

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #5

Vampire Psychology Is extremely depressing! The changes vampirism inflicts on the psyche, plus vampire morality and the state of their souls; How they deal with conflict; Vampires' relationships with others (including other undead); vampire "mental health" and depression naps.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER FOR FIRST TIME READERS: D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest. Larian themselves have not written BG3 totally compliant with some established D&D lore or the original games. You do what you want.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

Are vampires evil? As a rule, yes. Gleefully so. Vampirism, the condition, is inherently evil/harmful. Vampires as individuals may be more complicated, as they are still people with their own personalities, and vampirism can affect them atypically or with varying levels of severity. There are exceptions to norms and rules...

...except for the rule that vampirism is a curse and it does corrupt one's emotions and values, twisting them to be monstrous parodies, inversions or extremes of the original quality to at least some degree.

One of the most notable traits vampirism is that it will twist and inflate is the individual's pride, and arrogance is a universal trait. It definitely doesn't help when the vampire in question was already a self-absorbed idiot in life. Many vampires are completely consumed by delusions of grandeur.

Even when they want to be good people, vampires are flat out described as typically being "innately selfish" which "makes a good alignment difficult to uphold."

Vampirism also instils sadism and violent tendencies - vampires enjoy violence and hurting people and when they experience rage the sensation is made more powerful.

That vampirism corrupts its victims isn't that surprising, considering the origins of vampirism all seem to lead back to evil Powers who exist to corrupt people the exact way vampirism does. Demons, infernal pacts, Archdevils, and evil deities like the Dead Three…

However, a vampire can resist this corruption. There is at least of a fragment of the mortal they were in a vampire, the "part of it that is still mortal [and] yearns tenaciously for the things it had in life," even as the parts of them consumed by vampirism scorns those impulses.

If their will to do so or their attachment to a specific part of their identity is strong enough then individual vampires can retain/maintain some part/s of their mortal self intact and untainted by the curse. Vampires do not necessarily begin their unlives evil-aligned and have the option to struggle against their condition and be more than their curse tries to make them, if they chose.

It doesn't help that their nature is enforced by their "upbringing." The combination of vampiric nature with the trauma that they're "born" into leaves an incredibly strong inclination towards evil alignments eventually.

Maintaining a good alignment is beyond the "typical" vampire, but neutral alignments have been seen in those who don't want to be the monsters their master made them into. They can choose to help others and resist their worst impulses. Notably while the 3.5e description of vampire spawn as pcs says that they are traditionally evil and typically find good difficult to uphold due to their nature, that exact wording means that being good-aligned or leaning towards it is not impossible. It is unfortunately far easier for vampires to backslide than to move forward, and there is no escape from the constant instinctual drive to become evil for as long as a person remains a vampire, but it can be done.

"The arts of creating and controlling undead are Evil […] but undead themselves [vampires included] are not always evil." - Lords of Darkness (1e)

And on the bright side of innate vampire inclinations, vampires don't have the inherent hatred for the living possessed by other undead! (They just tend to think mortals are inferior and usually only bother to look at them if they're in need of slaves and/or food…)

Vampires without souls are a special exception to morality here, they are fully evil and have nothing within them to counter the vampiric instincts, but first we need to talk about the state of a vampire's soul - a topic of much bickering.

-

The soul in D&D canon is basically the essence of life and personhood - without it, while the brain may continue to fire neurons and circulate hormones, the individual feels "empty" and grows increasingly disassociated from those emotions and the world around them. They lose their personality, emotions and ability to form genuine relationships as everything they were starts to fade away into nothing.

Here's a quote from a soulless dude talking to the woman he loved up til the moment he lost his soul and couldn't love her any more that I think sums it up quite nicely: "I… I do not remember your love […] I have tried to. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory. But it is gone… a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. […] I look upon you and I feel nothing."

So, in 1e undeath destroyed the soul. In 2e I'm not sure if they had one - no, I think? 3.5e and 4e I don't know ever answered the question. 5e says they do have a soul, but it's corrupted in the manner already discussed.

In the Baldur's Gate series? Yes, they do. Aside from the whole 7000 souls thing, back in BG2 there's a vampire you kill whose soul is in agony and lingers to beg you to kill him and thanks you when you do for freeing him from undeath. In BG3 you may read Cazador's subconscious thoughts- as he mourns his mortal life, "the monster that will not end" and wishes to die. The soul is still there in the background, but it really wishes it wasn't.

In the case of vampires that don't have a soul all that's left behind is a flesh puppet piloted by a curse, echoing emotions they can't feel based on memories of a mortal life they can't really understand because all they are is a void filled by the violent, selfish, power-hungry monster that is pure vampire while the person they were is gone forever.

And even they're having a bad time! In BG2 we have another vampire: an elf whose spirit/soul is long gone, and she's still subconsciously screaming in horror at what she's become (which says a lot considering how evil she was to begin with. Like, "drain the life from the population a whole city, killing them to empower myself" unrepentant Evil).

-

Revisiting that "innately selfish" thing; The one thing vampires prize above all else is their own skin, and they will usually avoid risking it at all costs. A vampire might be willing and able to put aside the urge to be a selfish asshole, if it's for the sake of something they care about enough, but that's rare.

Vampires often rely on strategy and avoid straight-up fights. A "fair fight" is a foreign concept. They don't face an unknown enemy face-on until they know what they're dealing with, and will generally keep their distance trying to manoeuvre themselves into an advantage. They'll pretend to be more affected by their weaknesses than they are, to trick an opponent into letting their guard down. For example, pretending to be turned by a cleric, only to sneak back when the party's asleep and kill them then. Fleeing to either draw enemies into a trap or to sneak back for a backstabbing is a very popular tactic amongst vampires.

They also like to try and weaponise whatever social skills they have. Seduction, intimidation, coercion, bribery… whatever they think they can use to try manipulate others. They infiltrate the echelons of power, turning the rich and influential into their puppets. Build spy networks. They'll try to divide groups of potential enemies by exploiting their weaknesses, trying to weaken the group by turning the group against each other and enticing others to betray their allies in exchange for allying with the vampire. Vampires do so like to collect minions. Whether it's an innate desire for domination or a side effect of beginning unlife without autonomy, it's hard to find a vampire that doesn't (want to) have an army of servants and a desire to control people.

-

Speaking of minions, Vampires have a knack for necromancy and commanding their fellow undead considering them obviously inferior and so obviously existing to serve them. You'll often find other kinds of undead in the service of vampires.

Other sapient undead in turn think that vampires are obnoxious morons! Mummies think vampires are disgusting because they drink blood and they have little patience for vampires' tendencies towards peacocking and melodrama. Ghouls prefer to avoid interacting with vampires because they're arrogant pricks. Wights think vampires are "embarrassing poseurs trying too hard to pass themselves off as living beings." Mohrgs respect the vampiric drive to seek power, but look down on them for depending on the living to survive.

Vampires make the absolute worst company for other vampires; they're solitary predators, competitive and highly territorial and two free willed vampires will fight if they occupy an area together. It won't necessarily be combat; it might be fighting through their minions; or sabotaging each other's political machinations or something - but one needs to feel it has defeated or driven away the other. When it does come to a fight, it can often dissolve into animalistic violence. An example given of vampires in combat is of two vampires trying to kill each other with their bare hands, "hissing and spitting like cats". As vampires get older they learn to control their instincts and temper, and they can ally with their peers temporarily, but this too will inevitably collapse under the stress this cooperation puts them under. The only vampires another vampire can (barely) tolerate are the ones it controls or the ones it's magically brainwashed into "loving". If a vampire must deal with another on less unequal terms, they do it at a distance and they engage in a careful exchange to ensure the deal does not benefit the other party more than it benefits them and does not place one in control of the other in any way.

Young vampires often turn their loved ones in order to avoid losing them to age, disease and death. This obviously backfires, as the loved ones can only stay with them as slaves or enemies.

Despite the instinctual side of being a vampire ensuring that they can't be around each other, as individual people, vampires can have compatible personalities and feel affection for each other without being chained to one another (by doing it from a distance) - Mortals, of course, do not pose this issue. They pose other ones related to power dynamics and being a potential food source.

As vampires always seem to be utterly selfish fucks who treat everyone else as garbage that exists only to be ordered around, nobody expects them to care about anything or anyone else. And that's why people get caught off guard when a grieving vampire - against all expectations of vampire behaviour, arrives - sometimes out of nowhere, to exact vengeance on behalf of whoever was killed. Typically vampirism will try to warp affection into obsession and a desire to possess, but vampires can care about others.

Also when vampires feel strongly about another person, they definitely don't respond very healthily to losing them. Vampires seem to largely respond to the initial hit of grief by going into a blind, animalistic frenzy where they massacre everything within arms reach. After that they become utterly consumed by vengeance, which can spiral horribly out of control.

One day, inevitably, the stress and misery of eternal unlife gets too much. Depression is a given. Paranoia is also incredibly common. Whatever coping mechanisms the vampire has steadily spiral out of control. If the vampire's choice happens to be violence and hedonism, then they rapidly devolve into an utter monstrosity. Often the vampire's struggles become increasingly obvious until they're killed either by hunters or another vampire. Suicides also occur.

When vampires feel the weight of their unlives pressing down on them they usually go into hibernation in the hope that the rest will refresh them a bit and alleviate the stress. Or at least shut out the world. In a state of hibernation the vampire's thoughts are slow and sluggish; a single thought can take months or years to process. They have no sense of the passage of time or hunger as they experience strange dreams mixed with memories and the occasional vague impressions of their surroundings. The vampire has no way to know or control how long they will be in hibernation for. It will last at least 40 years, and has been known to last for centuries. In this state a vampire is significantly weakened, physically and mentally. Being forced to wake before their time may kill them, and if they wake "naturally" it will take 3-10 days for their minds to fully shake off the hibernation state. The vampire must feed within 12 hours prior to laying down in a safe space, underground and surrounded by several feet of rock/earth on either side (including above and below) in order to enter hibernation.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #vampires being manipulative doesn't mean they're good at it though #he sucks at it so much it's why I love him #F in being a vampire #B- in being an elf #A+ in being a character #long post #longest post

[generalsdiary]

a stupid bet (part 2)

gn!reader x Dr. Ratio

part one here

warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, occasional curse words (?)

word count: 6k~

a/n: didn’t expect so many of you to like it, so here’s part two, I knew which way I wanted to take this – and no it isn’t smut like some might assume. two adults with a complicated situation such as this would behave a tad differently, this ain’t a movie after all. but it was fun writing, a bitch to edit it, I hope you guys like this one as well, I am quite pleased with how it turned out. not beta read (we get snapped like Tingyun), if he is ooc this has been written before he became playable ((doubt there will be another part btw))

description: the aftermath of the bet, how the new dynamic functions, stubborn and arrogant attitudes with the fear to show emotions underneath it, all the while yearning for each other (fluff) yes they are communicating, this ain’t miscommunication trope, DW

It is the same day. Late at night with the workplace practically empty, you are finishing up some work. Being in a high position of power means also late hours, you stand up to stretch from sitting for hours.

It is quiet, everything seems still and desolate, with only the occasional sounds of machines, the soft buzzing of the lights, and the occasional Ruan Mei’s creation passing through.

You’re not alone to your surprise. Another figure also stands up to stretch, you aren’t aware of the presence until you hear the low sigh.

Veritas Ratio was still here, also finishing up work, just like yourself. Both hardworkers it seems… You two have a lot more in common than either of you would ever care to admit.

Upon acknowledging each other's presence he simply says. “Oh, so you’re still here as well?”

You nod, not finding the words to say, plus small talk is pointless in your mind. To which he nods back.

“Mind if I ask what kind of work you’re still working on at the time of night?” He tilts his head, you don’t know if it is cockiness in his voice or actual curiosity. On the other hand, he should also be very aware of your area of work.

“I’m done- about to head home~” You avoid the question, the simple rivalry and some sort of defensiveness still existing.

“Huh.” He ponders for a moment. “We’re both here, we’re both almost done and we’re both also heading out? It seems we’re more similar than I thought.” He makes a lame joke, to which you cross your arms and stare him down with a raised eyebrow as if to ask ‘Seriously?’.

You do answer, more of a scoff, “Perhaps” as you turn off the screen. Then the irony of the stupid attempt at the joke also brings a smile to your face. You don’t even notice it.

He also slightly smiles, realizing the stupidity of it, “Well… I mean, we’re already here at this late night. We could also just go ahead and leave together if it is alright with you?”

You nod, not thinking much of it, “Sure, c'mon.” You two exit the building.

He happily follows you out and you both soon exit the large lab building and walk out into the dark and chilly night. You weren’t aware, or maybe you didn’t notice the weather conditions being added to Herta’s space station. You two walk, all alone in the dark of late night, with only each other’s company to keep you warm.

He looks over to you, as he whispers. “Seems so peaceful and calm here, doesn’t it? It feels as if everyone has vanished from the station with you and me only left standing. Some life of the scientist huh?”

You nod at his words. Noticing your silence, it didn’t feel awkward, more tired, full of confusing thoughts and comforting silence. He continues, “How about we just keep walking without saying anything else? Let’s just… let’s just walk together and enjoy the peace of this… artificial night.”

“Sure” You didn’t mind his suggestion, walking beside him and feeling tempted to hold his hand.

He also gets an urge to hold your hand and even, hold you close. This quiet, late night has always made him feel at ease and rest, and this moment is no exception. In the darkness, it feels different, the way you two interact and behave.

You break the silence. “I’m still shocked we kissed today” to which he chuckles softly.

“I could almost say that I was surprised too. It didn’t feel like just any old kiss, it felt… like there was so much more inside it. A sort of intensity, a spark, that I couldn’t shake off for a long time. Almost as if my body felt as though it could simply melt from that kiss. It took me a bit to focus on my work again today.” He dryly chuckles.

You laugh softly at his analysis, “It appears someone liked it a lot.” And also avoiding the thoughts of it. He laughs softly at your tease and whispers, his voice a bit more tender and sensual. “Oh, I definitely liked it. I liked it a lot. It was as if I could hear some sort of music playing in that kiss. It was as if the very notes that this melody was composed of was just for that single kiss… that was the impression the kiss left on me…”

You smile, “Interesting” Is he actually truthful or mumbling nonsense? Who could know? You two bump into each other while walking and your nostrils fill with his cologne again today, just like while you were kissing and you sigh.

He also sighs and feels a sudden urge to wrap his arm around your waist, to take you in towards himself. He barely holds back the urge. “Interesting would be an understatement. You and I really must share a similar taste,” his voice goes lower, “but I can say one thing. I don’t think there was enough of our… closeness and the kissing.” He has more thoughts about this, yet quite unlike him he decides to keep them to himself, the thoughts of how your lips feel like they were made to just kiss each other and only each other, and perhaps meant to walk together in these quiet night station hours… He sighs softly, his mind turning into just nonsense.

It certainly is pleasant to be walking during these hours, and his words make you ponder over your thoughts and possible bubbling emotions. The calmness is unlike most other places, yet this peaceful atmosphere keeps you calm with which you also feel a bit of temptation. Feeling like you want to give in, want to take his hand in yours… Be close to him.

You both walk slowly, wanting perhaps to be closer to one another, your hands bumping into each other as you walk. Your bumps, as well as every other accidental touch and brush, only seem to tempt you further.

When your fingers brush against his you move them away like you got burnt, it feels like a zap of electricity, they feel too hot, too cold… like fire. And you wonder… gods why do you just want to hold his hand and get burnt? It seems as if those accidental touches are now turning even more intentional. You both keep the slow pace, perhaps both enjoying the feeling of being this close together and not wanting it to end.

Silence befalls you two once more. You don't know what to say. Stuck in a quiet and silent moment, as your bodies brush against each other with each step. Shoulders bumping, fingers brushing. Gravitating closer, you can feel that gentle heat of his body. There isn't much you two can say at this moment – you should just let this peaceful, calm, yet sensual and tempting moment speak for itself… a moment like this is worth more than any words could ever describe. Although this is more like a set of moments, rather than a single moment. Time feels like it is speeding by, seconds running yet it also feels like it has been slowed down.

„Veritas,“ You say his name softly. At the sound of your voice, he turns his head a little bit and looks right at you through the faint night lights. The look on his face seems to be filled with longing and passion, a look on his face that seems to be waiting for you to complete whatever sentence you were trying to say. He seemed quite eager to hear what you were about to say. His eyes looked as if they were burning with passion. Or perhaps you just imagined it all and he was merely waiting for you to speak, but you had his attention.

„You said you wanted to get to know me,“ you're looking ahead while walking, „yet we walk in silence.“ You try to slice the silence, the tension and thoughts of how he smells and how warm his touch would feel filling your mind, so you try to make conversation.

He nods and chuckles softly as you make this observation, „The truth is… it's just that I am enjoying being so close to you that I'd rather keep walking like this for a bit… I just…“ he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, „I just want to feel you next to me without having to speak a word. And to also be honest…“ His voice turned to a whisper. „…I'm feeling a bit tempted. The quiet and the... silence of the night making everything feel so much more sensual, I'm having a hard time resisting…“

You look up at him, hoping your cheeks aren't shaded pink, „Resisting?“

He is fast to answer, „Resisting the temptation… I want to kiss you again… I want to feel that warmth again. Your perfume is driving me insane… I just want to get lost inside of you with every kiss… with every touch…“

Veritas' words leave you in shock, he is completely frank, and blunt. Your thoughts scatter at his eagerness. You offer a small reaction. „Oh…“

He chuckles silently to himself at your surprised reaction, he is getting slightly out of hand, out of his usual stoic self, leaning closer while walking to say, „I mean, we could stop here and just enjoy these feelings with each other. No words are needed. I believe the quietness and the silence have just really been making everything feel so much more… as I already said, sensual. So I ask you, dearest, would you like to continue walking together as we are, or would you like to let these feelings finally get the best of us, and just… kiss?“

You stop walking and look up at him. You smirk, „You don't have a lot of self-control with indulgence now, do you?“ You tilt your head when you say these teasing words. Then almost like karma, an artificial draft blows past you two, his cologne filling his senses, making you close your eyes while it returns you the what happened earlier that day before you open your eyes again.

Veritas' eyes light up when you point out the lack of self-control but he can't help but chuckle softly. „You don't know half of it. It has been eating at me today, seems like a dam of suppressed… thoughts burst through. And they seem to be getting better of me the more and more we stand like this. I do apologize for my eagerness, it is improper… Would you really like to know just how hard it has been to hold back from simply kissing you?“ He adds the last sentence as if he is saying a secret, whispering it softly.

You smirk, „Oh, do tell me~“ Barely hiding the way his cologne almost had you swept off of your feet. Of course, he sees your reaction, just how much of an effect he seems to be having on you right now. You can feel your body just wanting to sway towards his, wanting to feel his touch, his warmth.

„Oh, where should I begin“, he does his analysis as a doctor, „My breathing has been feeling… hot and heavy… it's almost as if my heart rate has been rising faster than normal, or perhaps the fact I want to embrace you with every fiber of my being right now. But don't make me start listing the symptoms.“ He ends with a smile, to which you smile back. You'd never normally do that, you wonder what is it about this late at night?...

„Well, a mere hug is innocent enough, Veritas“ You smirk, teasingly and continue walking now. He laughs at your words before speaking, „Indeed it is. But the problem I find with this so-called 'innocent hug' is that it would inevitably lead us into the unavoidable action of you and I embracing tighter and tighter until a point where our hands may wonder and- let me not ramble, but“, he whispers into your ear, „A hug is just the beginning. Would you still like such an 'innocent' act of a hug?“

He is right, and you know he is. You try hard to not imagine it as he speaks, struggling to hold the thoughts back, to try to ease the tension you tease. “Overthinking~” You shoot him down and walk, avoiding anything upfront and making it obvious to the clever man as to why. You know he is as desperate as you to touch each other, feel, hold hands… And confused by it.

“My dear friend”, the nickname icks you the wrong way, but you ignore it, “I have quite the knack for figuring things out. And I can easily see that you want to hold me and embrace me too, but you seem to want to tease and want to be teased. Would you like to tease you a little bit?” He smirks, reading you like a book and recognizing the weak spots he can aim at.

“Oh, Veritas please don’t tease me, I don’t take it well. And, also, I assume then the innocent hug would be a bad idea.” You answer honestly rather than putting up a strong front that would crumble in mere seconds.

He is amused at your sudden concern about being teased and has an amusing tone of voice, “Alright, alright then. I promise to not tease you… well… not too much. Yes… no hug for us. It would lead us to do more… well, it would lead us down a very… not so innocent path.”

You two continue walking at a rather slower pace, you get the feeling of just how close the two of you are getting, bodies moving almost in sort of a sync, every little sway that one of you makes is seemingly replicated by the other. It is as if all other movements have faded away, except for the two of you walking together silently in the darkness.

Your fingers brush each other making you sigh. The touch of your fingertips is felt through the fabric of clothes. You become aware of each other's breathing in this silence. It all drives you insane, why do you want to hold his hand so badly… it makes you sigh again. It appears your fingers brushing has the same effect on him, your hands gravitationally shifting towards each other, as if trying to come in contact with each other, you can barely resist and you can tell Veritas is struggling not to just take your hand in his. More bumping, the desire to hold hands feeling like a natural response at this point, yet you don’t. “Veritas…” You quietly sigh.

The sound of your sigh sends shivers down his spine, turning his head to look at you, and his face is readable like a children’s playbook right now. His desires are, the same as yours. Maybe you’re both too prideful and too scared, to be honest with each other.

“We are almost where I live.” You gesture with your head, telling him the walk will end soon. You now brush your hand against his on purpose, the feeling of getting burned makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow then…”

He nods and you two stop near your place. His mind wishes for an embrace but you two decided against that, his eyes scanning your body as if wishing he could keep this view of you in his head. “Good night.”

People are much more honest at night time, especially if tired, the walk was something… You sigh when you enter your home, feeling frustrated, the chemistry between you two is insane, but your pride, much like his, is too big. Both without the courage to make the next move. Playing this back-and-forth game, with neither of you being willing to take the leap of being the one to start it. Kissing can be discarded always, but if someone states their feelings… with both of your arrogant personalities and your ‘enemy’ like history… well it isn’t an easy thing. So for now, you both go your separate ways, yet wishing you were in his arms, you and him laying alone in bed.

The thought of him keeps crossing your mind. You are thinking of him as you crawl into bed, feeling the weight and warmth of the blankets surrounding you. As you lay there, you think about how it felt to walk beside him. Imagining how it would feel to sleep beside him, feel his body next to yours. Sleep overcomes you, dreams end up being of him.

The night passes by and another work day begins. As you walk into your workplace you can see Veritas walking to his desk, right across yours. He meets your eyes for a moment, it is obvious that last night left both of you shaken up and still confused… which is an understatement, to be true to the fact, both scared, tension still hanging in the air between you two.

Occasional rumors about the people who saw you kissing feel annoying to you but you divert your attention to work. Both focused on work in your own separate bubbles, time passes by quickly. Yet your mind doesn’t clear up, not with all the hushing and whispering of your co-workers in the background. Everyone seems to be chatting about this supposed ‘romantic attraction’ you have to each other, while you two pretend nothing happened yesterday. You make an effort to not even glance at him, at his indigo hair which just makes you wonder if it would feel as soft with your fingers going through it- no, you stop your thoughts.

Feeling tired from a few hours of work and your mind distracting you with memories and scenarios you get up from your desk, intending to walk outside and get a break, catch some air. Your work building has experiments of installing new weather conditions on the station getting performed on it, so you look forward to the artificial wind on the rooftop.

While you walk away, you hear footsteps, someone had the same intention as you. Following right behind you.

Outside you find a spot without anyone, yet the footsteps follow close behind. You slowly breathe in, and the air feels fresh, the experiment might be successful, but it sure feels real. You turn around to see who followed you to ruin your break and time alone.

When you turn, you find Veritas staring right back at you. You both wanted to get away and walk away from all the noise. His face is neutral, but his eyes are soft while he tries to figure out your mood, and your thoughts. The tension fills the air again, especially since he is the one person who wouldn't help with all the thoughts you had of him.

„Morning“, you say simply, standing a few steps away.

„Good morning to you too.“ He nods, tilting his head slightly, „Did you also want to get a break or some… space from everything?“

„Needed a break, yeah.“ You nod back.

Attempting to turn the conversation about work his tone sounds formal, „The work can be exhausting, stressful… especially when people keep… gossiping“, he gives you a knowing look, „and everything.“

„Sleep well?“ Your voice is also formal, yet soft, not as loud as it would be if you asked him while inside.

„I'll admit“, he chuckles, „I was having a few interesting dreams last night, but other than that, I slept nicely. How was your rest last night?“ You notice how this isn't something a co-worker or a close colleague would just say to one another. You both were behaving differently, dancing on the line, on the edge of it.

„It was alright.“ You keep it simple, as silence falls again. The silence could be cut with a butter knife when the air feels thick, tension growing as you keep staring at each other. How did years of disliking and rivalry turn into this… tension after the bet and the kiss? Well, more than one kiss, but that's beside the point. Both prideful, so prideful. Like cats, predatory cats, so carefully circle their prey, but not sure if the prey is poisonous yet. Both are in the same boat, feeling the same way.

You sigh, „Veritas, I'm-„, you exhale „frustrated, but… prideful. Like you.“ His gaze was still on you when you spoke, his eyebrows raising at your words. Both struggle to get any words out regarding the matter, yet the electricity between you two is too strong, too powerful. You feel a pull towards him, and you look away.

Veritas stares at you for another few moments, before looking down to clear his mind.

„You're awfully quiet“ You complain and move away a few steps.

At this point, he also struggles to contain it anymore. His chest filled with a strange feeling of some sort of anxiety at wanting to say something yet holding himself behind. Even as you walk away from him, he calls your name, making you turn around. „Wait-„ He looks almost vulnerable, yet it could be the experiment's artificial sun making you imagine things. You make a few steps closer, raising your chin, „Yes?“

„I wish to ask you something“ He speaks softly.

„Ask.“ You look at him, a strong wind blows and you both move closer to the wall of the building, the entrance to the rooftop area, now a step or two apart.

Standing closer you can almost feel the heat of his body, it makes you tremble for a second – or is it just your imagination playing with you? He leans closer, and you also feel the desire to lean in close to him as well. He is about to say something when rain starts falling heavily and you both move under the entrance's rooftop, your bodies close to each other. So close, so close… your face a breath away. He exhales shakingly. You make an observation, a wrong one, „Why are you nervous?“

He chuckles a little bit, „Quite the opposite actually. Just finding the words for the question.“

You deadpan, „Ask then.“

The wind blows stronger moving the direction of the rain falling and you two move even closer together. The proximity makes your mind hazy, struggling to find words. Upon moving closer and the sudden temperature drop you feel the heat between your bodies, the strong wind now blowing the rain right over you. The feeling of electricity makes you both lean in closer while your hair and clothes get damp from the rain. The rain cooling you down, your breaths mingling and you curse under your breath.

Almost like you could read his mind you find the words for the very thing on his mind, „Why are we like this?“

“I… we’ve been like this ever since… well we’ve been like this for years. I feel so drawn to you…”

You tsk at his words and look away, your voice full of complaints, “I can’t get you off of my mind since the bet, your… cologne, and your- our kissing… Why the hell do you smell so good?” You furrow your brows.

He chuckles when he hears talk about the bet, making his cheeks blush a soft pink, and laughs a bit when you mention his scent.

You sigh, continuing your complaining, “And it doesn’t help that you’re so goddamn attractive and the fact that despite our hatred we know each other pretty damn well, so all this… tension…” Your words make the man chuckle warmly. He nods, agreeing that you are very familiar with one another, also feeling attracted to you. Veritas looks at you curiously.

Even after the intimate moment in the hallway yesterday you both still hesitate. You sigh, thinking of more things to complain about while he smirks at you and remains quiet.

He wonders, maybe it was more than a bet, maybe an excuse to actually get close to him, he will ask you more about it in the future. You both hesitate now, staying quiet with something just on the tip of your tongue.

You narrow your eyes, “You’re surprisingly quiet for a man who always had something to say about me.” To which he chuckles, very much aware of how right you are. He always had something to pick on about you. But now, he can’t help but smile at you silently. You curse at him softly, “Cat got your tongue?” He laughs even more, the proximity making him speechless, he looks down shaking his head slightly in amusement while you shake your head and look behind him. The tension fills up, cold rain hitting you, the desire to kiss rising. You both turn to face each other and your lips brush accidentally, just barely. You can feel your own heart beating faster when you slow your movements, almost like freezing upon the soft brush. It all feels overwhelming as you both fight the desire to kiss. You sigh and look down.

While you’re focused on resisting your urges, he moves closer. The two of you are breathing heavily, you can feel his breath against your lips, the heat of his body. You observe the way he drifts closer, but his hands remain at his sides. So proud, so hesitant.

You look at each other, the final drop about the overflow everything, you want to reach out, and his hands are formed in fists to hold back his wish to touch you.

You curse and meet his gaze, “I can’t- I… I am not a patient person, Veritas” You say sternly before meeting his lips. This time it feels as if the tension of years that passed is getting released. You both press up against each other, the heat rising. The kiss feels like it will be a longer one, your hunger to kiss him only growing while the rain pours down your back. Your hands move up his chest, over his soaked shirt, feeling the muscles of his torso, one hand moving to his damp hair pulling him closer even.

He turns pushing you gently against the wall, pressing his body into yours almost offering protection from the rain and the wind, unhelpful, you both keep getting watered down like dried plants. Not that you two would notice it that much at this point. The rain is pouring down on you, washing away your worries. You breathe in, his scent swimming around the air, making your mind foggy, both desiring to be even closer to each other. His hand stays a moment on your hips before moving to your back, pushing you into him, the proximity between you two nonexistent.

You pull away, creating a tiny distance between your lips, mumbling, “Sorry”.

He shakes his head softly, but his eyes are on your lips, they’re wet from the rain, like his. He breathes heavily, attempting to catch his breath. You look at each other, the loud rain falling the only sound.

Feeling like your actions spoke louder than words you don’t say anything more than that. He notices, chuckles, and speaks, “I know our… history. I may have never admitted myself but I always found you so… insanely clever, strategic… hot- and all of our good and bad conversations, moments when we behaved as friends- and moments when we were behaving as enemies… I- I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it- that, there might be something below the surface.”

And he was right, you two from yesterday played this back and forth, of talking and making out to prove points, and stating your confused feelings and thoughts, yet still held back. It is difficult, the fear that he might turn around and smirk, mock you for believing his actions, saying it was an experiment or something. It is very obvious that he is experiencing the same fear. Your walls are up high, and so are his. The never-ending pride, arrogance, strategy- move planning, what is the other person thinking… Is this another of his tricks… are you playing a trick on him? Too many years of lending a helping hand, or giving a snarky comment as a bully would. Of course, you would both be on edge, on the edge of control to not jump each other's bones, on the edge of misbelief, on the edge of calling him a liar. Because would you even dare imagine such a thing? You and him… him and you… It sounds good, feels right and feels wrong, feels strange, and feels like it was always meant to be- yet it doesn’t. So you both stand tall, defensive, and wishing for the other's attention. Hoping to recognize the truth and escape the lies.

He whispers, “This rivalry seems like it was an excuse to stay close, which at this moment-“, he smirks, leaning closer, “I don’t mind at all, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head, whispering back, “I don’t know anything anymore”

It is painfully attractive the way he leans above you, his nose next to yours droplets of water dripping down it and falling to your lips. It feels intimate, that one droplet… you lick it off of your lips, and his eyes are glued to the action, inhaling slowly. He gathers himself and whispers, “May I propose a goal? A tool of discovery? A new goal, to sway off of rivalry, a goal of keeping ourselves united and closer than ever, and of helping each other become the best we can be and be the best we want to be for each other?”

You smirk, easily reading between the lines, “Are you asking me to date you?”

Veritas chuckles under his breath, every word spoken softly, no need for any loud or even normal volume, “Yes… yes, I am… it may be ridiculous, but I just… can’t deny the strength of…”, he makes a small break, finding himself at a loss of proper words, “us.” He looks up, “Imagine it… how brilliant we are together. Yes, I could ramble on about a ‘power couple’ of sorts and intellect and how smart we are, but I just want you. I don’t care about that, I love your genius, and the way you work and behave- it is extremely attractive I might add.” He smiles, and continues, “In this moment, I just want you, I want to keep you close, stay close to you, I want to see us and where we would go, would we work…”

You fidget with his fingers, thinking it all over, the cold water cooling you down and the passionate kiss you had moments ago moving away from your mind. Going out, to get to know each other isn’t a bad idea… but you know so much, years of him, years of Doctor Veritas Ratio and his habits. If anything you already know his flaws, as well as his virtues. This leaves only one option you’d do, “I may find myself agreeing to a new goal, Veritas Ratio.” He smiles at your words, but you still feel uneasy- like this is a dream you will wake up from and you are again being snarky to each other, the thoughts don’t help so you say more to yourself than to him as he says, “Thank you-“, interrupting him, “Oh, hush now” and crashing your lips on his again, to drown the thoughts.

This time the kiss feels slower in a way, deeper, passionate. He cups your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. It is almost sensual, the desire still clings onto you two, below the surface, an eternal dance between attraction and emotions, fast making out and slow meaningful touches.

You dare to take your hand in his, he swiftly gives you a small squeeze, and slowly separates your lips, with your bodies still pressed against each other.

Looking at him it feels strange to think he is taken, moreover that he is taken by you. He is yours… well, and you are his. He leans in kissing you softly once more, and you feel both of your desires rising again- “Veritas”, you mumble against his lips. He clings onto you even more, truly lacking the mentioned self-control in moments like these, you catch your breath, separating from the kiss, completely soaked with rain now. “Just because we are at the top of the food chain doesn’t mean we should abuse our power and take too long breaks.” You say in a normal voice, it is very much so unlike either of you to behave such a way, and he probably got carried away.

He laughs softly, nodding to your words. Pulling slightly away to give you some space, the wet clothes making you stick together makes both of you laugh, and he gently tugs his shirt away.

A couple of moments of silence pass, his hand caressing your cheek, gazing into your eyes, not trying to read you like he usually is, it looks like he is almost… adoring you.

Soon enough you two return to work. When asked about why you’re soaking wet- you call out the weather experimenting on the roof, to which people nod in understanding or the reckless ones dare laugh.

Later that day, again you two are the last to leave, and you walk, again, just like the night before. The night is quiet, there’s a cool draft when you exit the building, you both walk in silence, there are not a lot of words to say, and there are too many. At least you’re now together, each other’s. Your hands bump into one another.

You sigh, not wanting yesterday’s walk to repeat, and take his hand in yours, making him smile. It may all be complicated and confusing, but this feels right. You will take it slowly, this… everything. His thumb caresses your knuckles and you two walk with more ease, bumping less into each other.

When you reach your home you both stop, “Good night, Veritas” You say softly, releasing his hand, your mind does wonder how his body would feel warming up yours, would he hold you tight, would he snore… You chuckle at your thoughts. Similarly, to you, he wonders how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you tightly, your bodies pressed against each other the entire night. You keep staring at each other- “You won’t say good night back?” You tilt your head, teasing, knowing he is thinking about something.

He laughs gingerly, raising an eyebrow and shrugging, “I wasn’t quite sure if you finished saying your goodbye yet, since you were… hmm… staring at me” He smiles brightly, happy with how he phrased it. “But yes, good night. It was nice walking with you. I shall see you tomorrow.” He reaches for your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it while making eye contact, you step closer and kiss his cheek, whispering, “Sweet dreams, Veritas”.

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr #dr ratio fanfic #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x y/n #dr ratio x you #dr ratio smut #fluff #smut #hoyoverse #doctor ratio fluff #veritas ratio fluff #dr ratio #doctor ratio #hsr ratio #star rail dr ratio #star rail ratio #dr ratio x reader fluff