#the fact that they loved each other so much they threatened the very existence of an ancient magical bond | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonderlandrry · 25 days

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hi, this is my first ever attempt at writing on tumblr!! the story could be more than one part if you like it (maybe three or four parts). this is also my first time not writing in first person pov so hopefully it doesn’t suck complete ass. (not really edited and idk how to format either so GREAT first impression, friends.)

pov: best friend! harry x you (aka i tried my best lmao)

blurb: you and harry have been best friends your whole life and one night changes everything.

contains: friends to lovers, bad girl x good boy if you squint, smoking green 🍃, smut, cussing, oral (giving and receiving for both characters), praise kink, and size kink if you squint really hard again and read between the lines lmao.

word count: 5k

• NOT RAMADAN FRIENDLY •

just friends

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Rylan’s honey eyes flick from your dorm bulging back to yours. The tension from tonight’s argument is fresh in those crinkles next to his eyes that you used to love. Fucking adore.

Parting your lips, you sigh, “See you around.”

“Don’t be like that,” A ringless hand runs through his dark hair. You’re not exactly sure why you’re focusing on that but here we are. “It was a joke, come on.”

Your hand rests on the door handle, silently contemplating on freaking the fuck out again. This isn’t the first time he’s made jokes, very public jokes about your best friend. The very first time you let it slide with a warning because some people don’t understand that you can be just friends with the opposite gender. They can’t wrap their heads around that not every relationship revolves around sex. You understood but tonight? He went too far.

“Saying Harry follows me like a stray dog,” You have to take a deep breath because Rylan doesn’t know what Harry’s been through. That only pisses you off more. “Was too far.”

“He doesn’t have any friends, Lil, just you.”

“Because he’s smart, he doesn’t have friends because he’s fucking brilliant.” It was true, Harry focused more on school and baseball than friendships. He got a full ride to Calloway University reliant on grades and his pure, raw talent. Some would stop there but he took it a step further by studying physics. Now it’s your turn to run a hand through your hair because this is the fourth fight over your best friend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you not see how fucked that is?” He hisses, making your head snap in his direction. “You’re supposed to be dating me, not him.”

You scoff, “So that’s what this is?”

Rylan’s hold tightened on the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. “Look, I don’t care that you’re friends with him but you spend too much time-”

That confirmed everything for you. Your long friendship with Harry wasn’t the problem. Rylan knew how much Harry meant to you and how your friendship was all you had sometimes. He knew yet the fact that he didn’t have your full attention every waking moment of the day was the source of cruel jokes.

“You’re threatened, huh?” His knuckles blanched even more as the words left your mouth. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth, Ry. Harry’s been my best friend since I was seven. Nothing has and will never happen between us. I would never sleep with him and ruin our friendship.”

“I see how you guys look at each other.”

Your whole face heats, it’s literally on fire. “You’re seeing things because we’re just friends.”

“You’re in denial.” Fuck. This.

Those three words were enough to push you. Push you to fling open the car door and launch yourself onto the pavement. They were enough to heat your whole body to the point that chilly winter air wasn’t enough to simmer down your anger. You don’t even bother slamming the door shut because that asshole can get out and shut it himself. That’s what he gets for constantly trying to pry a confession out of you. A confession that doesn’t exist but he still won’t accept it. The security guard gives a weary smile as you pass him, an obvious witness of the whole shit show. You look over your shoulder just in time to watch Rylan peel out.

He doesn’t follow you, shocker. Not that you wanted him to but you also didn’t expect him to. He acts like he cares but when push comes to shove, actions don’t match the words constantly flying out of that stupid mouth.

Unlocking and relocking the door with a soft click, your dorm is oddly dark and quiet. It looks like no one has been here all day. This is a possibility since Ellie spends most nights with her boyfriend. You slide off your black vans and place your bag on the hooks by the door. Seniors get a common room and separate bedrooms in student housing and you love the privacy. Honestly? It’s hard as fuck to hook up sharing a room with someone. El never cared who you brought home but felt weird as hell, yano?

From: ball boy (11:35 pm)

you home?

To: ball boy (11:36 pm)

yeah

You loosen your claw clip and honey-blond waves tumble. Walking into your room, you slip out of the cute-ass outfit you spent an hour perfecting and into some random band shirt with no bra and spandex shorts. Such a shame because you looked hot, too bad the night didn’t end with Ry ripping this lacy, black corset off you. Sucks for him.

From: ball boy (11:42 pm)

open the window before Mack catches my ass.

Your eyes snap toward the only windows in your room. The sheer, black curtains were closed but they did a shit job keeping the sunlight out so, honestly, how good were they for privacy? Your heart hammers thinking about Harry seeing you. How he could’ve seen all of you, not just what you choose to show off. The thought made your heart hammer.

From: ball boy (12:46 am)

don’t tell me you’re fucking someone right now

From: ball boy (12:47 am)

fuckin’ sick, lil

Annoyed, you rip open the curtains to find Harry’s cocky expression staring straight at you. It’s too dark to make out his full face but you can tell by the smirk tipping the left side that he’s amused. Making your favorite dimple dent even deeper. In one swift motion, the latch unlocks letting him in. He’s done this a million times, yano? Sneaking in your room for late-night study sessions, movie nights, or sleepovers. You’ve shared a bed countless times but never crossed that line, he’s your best friend. There are rules in place to save your friendship. He means more to you than one night of pleasure. Always has.

“Nice shirt, been looking for that everywhere.” Evergreen eyes bounce across your face, “Thought you had a date.”

You blow out a breath, “Not anymore.”

He smirks, dimple popping, “Obviously.”

“Thought you had plans.” You counter because Harry may not have many friends but that didn’t mean anything when it came to his sex life. He had trouble talking to girls but that didn’t seem to matter because they flocked to him. There was just something about him that drew people in, you included especially you. Maybe it was his ability to make anyone in the room feel special; wanted by having his undivided attention.

His lips purse, “Nah, not tonight.”

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed look giving away that he knows, “You know why.”

Guilt settles into your stomach, that stupid sinking feeling of being caught hit full force. He had the same argument with Grace that you did with Rylan tonight. They seem to argue more though and it kills you seeing him upset. You know he cares about her but he loves you. Maybe not romantically but definitely platonically and that means something to him. Every time they have this conversation, you know you should walk away. It's always your first instinct to protect people you love and you love your best friend. But, you’d rather die than let him go and that’s selfish as fuck but true. You sigh, “Harry-”

“I’m good,” He closes the distance and wraps you into a hug and it feels like home. Your favorite type of hug. “Worried about you.”

You smile against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart hitting your cheek, “Nothing a Star Wars marathon won’t cure, Stud.”

His face lights up, “God, I could kiss you, Lil.”

“Whatever you say, ball boy.” Your heart flutters violently but you ignore the feeling. He always jokes like this in secret and maybe that’s the reason no one believes you’re just friends. But, they’re just jokes, yano.

“Ball boy?” He scoffs, making you tilt your chin to meet his gaze. When your eyes finally focus, Harry’s staring at you with his stupid, dimpled smile. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you’re completely immune. He’s handsome and you’d be dumb to deny that because, well, you have eyes. Currently, he looks even better from this angle. His hair’s tousled as neat as those chestnut curls will allow and dimples seem more prominent. Deep, inviting indents. The black, backwards hat only adds to the contrast of those evergreen eyes. Your favorite shade of green. A sliver of metal trapped between perfect teeth as he cocks his head. He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “That’s fucked up.”

Pulling back, you shrug, “You’re the one who plays with them all day.”

His tongue clicks, cheeks hollowing, “Baseball, I play baseball.”

You dismiss him with a wave, walking into the common room. “Whatever helps you hit balls with your bat, Ball boy.”

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He warns in a low tone, so low that everything tingles. Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of weed before plopping on the couch, “because I don’t share with bad girls.”

“Watching Star Wars high?” You grin as he nods. “Man of my dreams.”

Harry smirks, all boyish and full dimples, “Don’t tease.”

After pressing play and settling into the couch, you glance over at him just as the credits begin to roll. He’s lighting a joint, brows set in concentration, pink lips puckered around the paper inhaling slowly before passing it to you.

The next forty minutes fly by in the best, blissfully buzzed way. Time doesn’t have an exact science. We’re happy and having a good time. All the anger from earlier dissipated from you and Harry just being together. His nose found its way under your jaw, right next to your pulse point, some time after fifteen or so minutes. He’s always been affectionate when buzzed but holy fuck, was he toning it down before. You don’t know what changed but his hands haven’t left your waist and he keeps hugging closer to your chest with little sighs and hums of contentment. He smells so fucking good like peppermint, fresh laundry, and smoke.

Your breathing is slow and steady. Completely wrapped in him. Fingers twisting the curls at the nape of his neck until your fingertips tingle to touch him elsewhere. You don’t allow them to go lower than his throat, feeling how harsh each swallow was each time you’d get below the hinge of his jaw. He hums against your neck, nuzzling deeper into the column dangerously like he can’t get enough, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You breathe as he hugs tighter, not stopping your feather-like movement through his soft curls. “You?”

“Yeah, that feels good.” His words come out sleepy and deep and gravelly. “Your t-touch always feels good.” Warm evergreen holds all your attention as he kisses your cheek, “Thank you for being here with me. You make everything better, always have.”

Your face tilts, noses inches apart, and whisper. “You make everything better for me too.”

Harry’s the type of man that goes from beautiful to devastating with a change of facial expression. Your hazy brain can’t stop taking him in for some reason. It’s involuntary. That beautiful, sculpted face is hidden at nightfall but you allow yourself to appreciate how much time someone put into crafting him. It’s like you spent the last fifteen years with blinders on and can finally see.

Sage burns into evergreen as his lips roll a few times like he’s trying to come up with a safe response. The irrational part of my brain wants to feel his mouth on you again so bad that you almost crave him. Your lips part at the same time waiting for the other to make a move or do something drastic. Three heartbeats of your mouths seconds apart. Three heartbeats in your own hazy, happy world. His nose nudges yours once before dropping back to your throat. His arms wrapped around you tighter and your breathing synced again. Instead of calm and steady, now it’s erratic and fast.

Fuck, you have to be high, right? Best friends don’t look at each other like this. Especially you guys.

He leans closer, left hand planted on your thigh as we just stare at each other. Almost like he feels it too. Your fingertips ache to touch the stubble dusting his jawline so bad they tingle but you can’t seem to move. Completely lost in the hypnotic desire clouding the calm green of his irises.

Not wanting to put pressure on Harry to make the first move, you close the distance. Not sure why you did that but your mouths part at the same time. His in surprise and yours in want, yet in perfect sync. Pressing your lips to his, he immediately kisses back, cupping your jaw. One second everything’s moving slowly and the next, he’s lifting his shirt over your head. Touching every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts as yours find his jeans. The kiss breaks as he leans back just enough to look at you. You’re looking at each other in silence but it’s so fucking loud.

“We should-” He swallows harshly, columns of his throat tense, “Don’t wanna finally have you if you’ll regret-”

“Won’t ever regret you, H,” Your voice is hushed yet full of so much want and sincerity. “Don’t stop, we’re okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out in relief pressing another kiss to your lips that sends trace currents through your body full force. Finally giving into the sweetest temptation you’ve ever tasted. Forbidden and delicious. This was like an avalanche of feelings and lust in motion, couldn’t stop the cascade if you tried. The aftermath would eventually come but everything would be okay. It had to be.

“Yeah, just friends,” Your lips move with his again but lazier, a slow pace that makes everything come to life. “This doesn’t change anything.”

You lied because this meant everything but you can’t stop.

He blinks like he can see right through your bullshit.

You blink back hoping he doesn’t.

“Just friends.” He repeats only the first half of your lie between kisses, pressing your body further into the couch with his hips.

The words come out breathless.

The words come out easily.

The words come out in cool peppermint.

He starts to drag your shorts off at the same pace the kiss and you lift a little to help. Being this vulnerable, letting the other fully see the other is something you can’t put into words. Your eyes rake his body as his lustful, dark gaze mirrors yours. There aren’t enough fucking words to describe how beautiful he is. Taking in every single detail from his tattoos to his cock pressed between your open thighs. The desperation; everything fucking aches for him. He leans forward, lips parting, eyes darkening by the minute, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jaw until they meet your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue ring claiming every inch of your mouth. He tasted like charged temptation in the best way, like something you didn’t know you craved until now.

Harry whimpers as your legs wrap around his waist. His cock throbs between your thighs and he groans against your lips. The sound vibrating with need; so fucking desperate. Strong hands grip your ass as the kiss deepens. He’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s hungry for air. Almost like he can’t breathe without tasting you. Without having you like this. Staggered, harsh breaths hit the left side of your as his lips descended. Sucking and biting gently at your throat until they reach your chest and wrap around your nipple piercings. Metal clanking salaciously as his tongue swirls, toying with each little bar. His cock throbs again and your head falls back into the throw pillows with a loud moan. The arrogant smirk against your already heated skin only sends fire dancing.

Crackling and humming with each touch. They say fire needs oxygen to grow and Harry was yours. Always has been, he ignites all your fires.

Pulling back slightly, salacious evergreen meets thunderous oceans as he speaks, “So fucking pretty.” His words come out as a rasp, full of raw desperation. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.” Kisses pepper your face, “Wanna make you feel so good, please? ”

“Y-yes,” You breathe, unable to finish the sentence as his kiss-bruised lips meet yours again and again, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your already open thighs, while yours run through his soft curls. Tangling and twisting as your lips move hungrily, desperately. Your teeth trap his tongue ring gently tasting and the sound that escapes his throat is feral. His body pushes against yours as you devour each other. Urgent, hungry, and like you might run out of time or change your mind. Hot, open-mouth kisses descend from your lips to your jaw then stop at the base of your throat.

“Fuck,” The word’s rushed, nearly a pant, as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The view of his gorgeous, toned body sends a shiver down your spine. The butterfly on his chest fluttered with each rapid breath. His abs jutting and rippling like it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there. Rough yet gentle hands feather your ribs, gliding effortlessly until they pause at your hips, leaving trace currents branding me with each tortuous touch. The rings on his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips despite how gentle he’s being. A surprised gasp leaves my lips in a whimper as his grip tightens holding you into place. Your hips tilt, wanting to feel him and he groans, nostrils flaring like he’s in pain, “Want you so bad,” His nose runs against your jaw, “Not gonna last if you keep moving, Lil.”

“Sorry,” You breathe letting your head fall back as it swims with every effortless emotion you feel for him.

“Shh, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect, look at you.” He whispers, the gravelly tone of his voice sending vibrations between your thighs making you ache. A completely desperate ache for him that would be embarrassing if it was anyone but your Harry. Suddenly, he’s kissing you but lazily this time. His lips moved so painfully slow and tender against yours. Kissing like you have all the time in the world. As soon as you match his pace, he breaks the kiss sighing deeply against your parted lips. He studies your face, evergreen locked on blue, as he slowly drifts between your thighs. His hands follow him, traveling down your inked body with ease, until they lock around your upper legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask breathlessly, trying to keep up with his pace. He ignores you, placing drawn-out kisses trailing from your left hip to inner thigh. Soft moans leave your parted lips each and every time his mouth touches your skin. His kisses are getting closer and closer, nipping and sucking, teasing and torturing. It’s too fucking much. “Harry-”

“Need something, Lil?” He sucks harder on your hip, leaving a purplish bruise on porcelain skin, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a lazy smirk. So effortlessly sexy.

“Please-” Desperateness clings to the word as your head falls back, unable to handle seeing him between your legs.

“Please what?” Harry smirks against heated skin as your hips move forward, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I want-” The sentence pauses at the tip of your tongue. No one’s ever asked what you wanted before. “I’ve never-” Your brows push together trying to find the right word but he reaches up, fingers smoothing the line between them like he understands.

“It’s okay,” He runs the flat of his tongue against your clit and your knees almost push together from pleasure, the round of his tongue ring hitting perfectly. Like he knows exactly what you need. Burning evergreen disappears into the back of his head as he moans against you, fingernails digging into your skin. “Taste so fucking good, Lil. Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

“Fuck,” The whimper that comes out of you is pathetic as he lifts your leg, draping your right knee over his shoulder, tongue circling with no mercy. Flicking and sucking and teasing as he changes pace. Your head falls back feeling his piercing tease your entrance with each flick of his perfect tongue. Your fingers laced into his wet curls, tugging as he pulled back, eyes meeting yours. Bringing his left middle and ring fingers to your lips, manually parts them until his fingers push past your bottom teeth. The cold metal of his rings hits your warm mouth. Evergreen dances darkly as they glide across your tongue until you gag around them. He exhales roughly, head cocking, “Mmm, suck. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his fingers as your eyes lock. He moves them in and out a few times before withdrawing. Never breaking eye contact, pink lips puckering around my clit as his fingers tease your entrance. He watches you intensely, so fucking intensely as his fingers match the pace of his tongue. Your eyes flutter in pure fucking bliss as your grip on his hair returns. Pulling and tugging, making him groan so deeply, “Lil.”

Your name came out of his mouth with the same electricity that courses through your veins whenever he’s around. Hot, entrancing, unfuckingdeniable, and your undoing. White, hot pleasure hits so hard that you try to close your legs but his hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them open, easing you through it. Your breathing evens out as Harry watches you between your open thighs. His head tilted upward, lips parted in amazement, evergreen bouncing around your face like he’s committing every muscle movement to memory.

“For fucks sake.” He exhales, blinking in complete astonishment.

“Hmm?” The word comes out lazily, so fucking easy like your smile.

He hovers, face inches from yours, hazy eyes blazing with lust. The end of his cross necklace bounces off your bottom lip a few times. “So pretty when you cum, Angel.”

Fuck, in one swift movement, you push his chest backward completely straddling him as his back hits the couch. Long, ring-clad fingers grip your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, kissing slowly, tongues tangling lazily. He tastes like you and it makes your head spin. His fingers tangle into your hair, blond waves fall, as he collects them wrapping the strands around his wrist. Breaking the kiss, your hands glide across his skin, feeling every harsh breath and ridge before settling between his legs. Every flutter of his butterfly as he breathes, how his abs constrict with each breath like he wants you so badly that it’s painful, and the vein resting next to the perfect v-line of his left hip. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts, meeting his hungry, beautiful gaze as your lips wrap around his head.

He lets out a loud moan, abs jutting, as your tongue twirls and teases. His head lolls back, lips parting while the moans come out so fucking feral; desperate. The grip on your hair loosens as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. Honey curls fall you around like a curtain as he cups the back of your head, pushing you to take him deeper, never breaking eye contact. You almost wanna shut yours seeing how much adoration and attention and lust swims in his pretty irises. He starts moving his hips slowly, testing, and relaxing your jaw. His jaw tightens with each thrust, moaning so fucking loud, lips puckering around a needy exhale, “I-fuck-I’m not gonna last.”

Flattening your tongue, a hum in appreciation and that makes him break. The soft green of his eyes darkened as control slips with each thrust. “God, look at how pretty you look wrapped around my cock.” He groans even louder and you gag around him. His hips slow, “You can take it, just like that, so fucking good.”

Your cheeks hollow as his movements grow more frantic. More fucking desperate. Twirling your tongue, he pulls out, cupping your jaw again as he cums. Painting your chest in the most filthy way. Head tilted back, eyes shut, pumping his cock as he whimpers. Blush spreads up his throat, neck vein popping in the sexiest way, and perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy; pure bliss. He’s the most devastating man you’ve ever seen. The minute your gazes meet, your breathing halts. So many emotions battle to come to the surface as lush forests meet raging oceans. The push and pull that is us. This is a moment where you just stare at each other in understanding. Letting your eyes say what you’re afraid to admit out loud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Harry’s voice is gentle and soothing while his fingers trace your jaw before disappearing. You count his footsteps but don’t respond. The weight of what happened crashed into you like a freight train. Your breathing accelerates instead of steading as everything plays out. You don’t want to lose him when this doesn’t work out. The thought comes quickly and like a bucket of ice water. Panic setting in because you can’t lose him. You can’t lose him over one night of weakness. Shit, the uncertainty feels heavy on your chest, heavier than it should because there’s no one you trust more. He’s your best friend.

“Lil?” Hesitantly, your eyes snap to your favorite shade of green. Allowing them to travel his peaceful features, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Everything about him is relaxed and unguarded as he starts cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. The light stubble on his sharp jaw to pink parted lips to the freckles on the bridge of his nose that you wouldn’t see unless you were close enough. Your fingertips ache to trace the path, feel each little freckle and plane of his face, until they’re touching his pink lips. Sometimes, you wish memories worked like photographs or something so you could accurately remember how being in his arms feels. How finally being his feels until unrelenting reality hits. You’re not his, Grace is, and that hurts worse than you thought. His lips tip into a left-sided smile, “There she is.”

“Here I am,” You smile back, cheekbone gently compressed by his long fingers.

Dark curls sticking up in different directions, evergreen eyes following every detail of your face, a red hue dusting across his cheeks, and his once parted lips tugging into a sleepy smirk, “You still with me, Lil?”

“Always.” The word came out fast because you were with him. Maybe too with him. “Gonna get dressed real quick.” A giggle escapes your lips, “Don’t have the money for Ellie’s therapy bill if she walks in.”

“Fuck,” He chuckles, running a hand through long curls, “She’d probably ask to join.”

Your phone buzzes two times and something inside you freezes. You know it’s Rylan, no one else but him and Harry text you this late. The playful expression on Harry’s face slowly drains into something that resembles pain as he hands it to me. The sudden change makes your stomach turn in the worst way.

From: Ry (2:30 am)

Sorry about tonight.

From: Ry (2:31 am)

Can’t lose you over a stupid argument, Lil. I know you and Styles are just friends and you wouldn’t touch him. Sorry for being a jealous prick.

That stomach-sinking guilt comes back full force and causes your mouth to flood with saliva. You pull the Nirvana shirt over your head and turn to explain but he’s already looking at the wall. His jaw tense, so tense that the hinges are bulging, but expression is stoic. He swallows, the columns in his throat tense then relax showing just how hard the salvia was to get down. You linger on his side profile for a second, appreciating the beautiful yet masculine planes of his face, before clearing your throat. He blinks a few times before turning slowly to meet your eyes. The words rush out of your mouth, “Harry-”

Playful evergreen darkened to forest green, “I better go.”

You jump to your feet, following behind him quickly, desperate to explain. His back to you, broad shoulders sagging, as he works to unlatch your window. The glass opens with a thud and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. Ring-clad fingers grasp the ledge, knuckles blanch, as he just breathes. You count to fifteen waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t. 240 long, excruciating seconds pass. Exhaling harshly, his voice is hoarse, “We need to tal-“

“Friends?” You blurt, not letting him finish. Needing to know you’re okay, eyes volleying between him and the notification on your phone.

He pauses, hand resting on the windowsill, so much pain in those evergreen eyes you love so much. There he was, always taking care of you. Even if it means hurting him.

“Yeah, Lil.”

Your attention stays on the window as he slips out without giving you a chance to respond. Everything smells like him, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh laundry, peppermint, and something earthy like the wind. Even your skin has traces of him that you don’t think you’d be able to wash off. The memory of tonight permanently embedded into you and there is no denying it. How his mouth felt, his hands on you, the sound of his raspy voice slowly ruining you for anyone else.

What the fuck did you just do?

614 notes · View notes

most-datable-datable-bracket · 13 days

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ROUND 5 MATCH 6

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Josephine propaganda:

“you get to have a full Disney princess style romance with her, she is the most precious, the most sweet, I love her so much 🥺”

“Josephine's one of the "behind the scenes" companion for the protagonist and she advises them on diplomacy-related matters.

Her personal quest and romance is fairy-tale worthy: she gets threatened with assassination, you help her restore her family's fortune, you get threatened by her best friend to not break her heart, she doesn't dare to hope you mean anything serious when flirting until you spell it out for her, after which Josie agrees to a deeper relationship... And immediately after that she finds out her family has engaged her to a random noble without her knowledge!! You publicly challenge the suitor to a one-on-one duel to win her hand, she finds out and interrupts the duel because she's worried of the Inquisitor throwing literally the entire plot away and risk life in combat for her... To which of course you can confess that they're doing it because they love Josephine, and they get the cutest cutscene with Josie jumping in the Inquisitor's arms and them spinning her around before kissing each other <3 The betrothed steps away because he sees true love between the two. She and the Inquisitor stay together through the end game and after it, gaining a "second home" with her and her family.

She really believes in the Inquisitor's cause and from the very first conversations with her, she asks questions about your background and tries to make you feel welcomed (especially appreciated if the Inquisitor isn't human since people are less trusting of them). She's politically smart but dislikes violence, overall very sweet but still strong... Josie tends to overwork herself (she's a perfectionist) and at first she tries to keep a professional air at all times but if you encourage her, she will rant to you and spill all the tea about nobles lol.”

#claude von riegan #Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem: Three Houses #FE:3H #josephine montilyet #Dragon Age #dragon age inquisition #Round 5 #MDDC 2

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predestinatos · 6 months

Text

inside me | CL16 ִ ۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ 🗝️.♡

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary: feelings aren't something charles and you talk about. especially not when you're tipsy in a club bathroom. chapter 3 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, more jealous!charles, i never get tired of writing it, smut, sexual content, cursing, some progress in vulnerability sort of? not much, angsty-ish but soft? ending.

word count: 5.4k

📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ minors dni !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), sort of rough sex, sexting, this is soo filthy, unprotected sex, creampie.

note: okay so! i got a bit carried away while writing this, clearly being so much bigger than usual, but it's to compensate for my 4-day absence which will surely delay the next chapter a bit!! thank you again so so so so!!!!! much for the good comments and support, it genuinely makes me very very happy. hope you like this one!

“Two more tequila shots, please” Oscar shouted to the bartender, the music muffling his voice and your thoughts.

The two glasses appeared before you, its content calling to your dizzy mind. Dropping the salt in your hand, you prepared for the countdown. Oscar looked flushed and giddy, already a bit tipsy, just like you. His cheeks were a soft pink and his eyes were constantly in a smiling expression, which spread itself to you. “A toast to a very good friendship” he said, laughing, as you clinked your cups against each other, licked the salt off of your hands, chugged the drink and placed lemon in your mouths.

Oscar and you had kept going out. You enjoyed each other’s company, talking to each other and overall just existing together. Of course, one of those nights you two had to have the talk you dreaded to have. Curiously, it was Oscar who started, his words spilling very fast and messily, although they could be condensed to a simple “I think we’re just friends.” You were totally okay with that. It simplified your life, and Oscar’s following proposal just made it even better. “That doesn’t mean we can’t… have fun together, though. If you’d like to.” And that was your relationship with him – purely a fun one, a jokingly flirtatious game where none of you had your hearts broken because there was nothing to break apart from a few glasses.

So, after many shots and funny faces at the taste were exchanged, here you were, dancing with him enthusiastically, your bodies jumping and touching and having fun.

You were surrounded by people you loved – Oscar, your friends, everybody at that club – and that loved each other in that moment. Your friends got along beautifully with Oscar, and you even saw some potential for deeper relationships with this one girl, so you were happy, insanely so. Except for one thing: the pair of eyes looking at you from you and your friends’ tables.

As much as you tried moving further away, enjoy yourself and drink away the burning hot sensation on the back of your head, you couldn’t. Charles’ gaze wouldn’t leave your body, filled with rhythm and loose, but contrastingly so tense from his eyes.

You knew Charles was coming. But you thought he would be calm about things, take them lightly and not care much, given the fact that you and him were in very weird territory. It was now hard to hide from your friends that something was going on – the snarky remarks had turned more like innuendos and inside jokes that made you blush, and there were only so many nights where, for some reason, only the two of you couldn’t make it. Apart from those two instances, your relationship with Charles hadn’t been physical again. Some texts were exchanged, sure, but neither of you knew what you were doing; you were ice skating on very thin grounds, which threatened to break at any given moment. It was a matter of who was going to take the hardest step.

“I’m pretty sure Leclerc is into you” Oscar started, laughing at something that wasn’t particularly funny were it not for the alcohol in your system. You laughed back, throwing your hands around his neck and letting your mind run through all the thoughts compressed in your head, all the sounds and sensations surrounding you. “You’re friends, why don’t you ask him?” you replied in his ear, hoping he would hear you, or maybe even guess what you were saying. Pulling away to look into his eyes, you saw him shaking his head in a negative motion, the tipsy smile in his pink lips “he would murder me if I even got remotely close to him.” You both bursted out laughing again, shrugging carelessly at the ridiculousness of it all. “No it’s just… he hasn’t stopped staring at us and I doubt it’s because he finds me attractive” the Australian continued, nodding his head towards where Charles was sitting. Unapologetically, you two stared at him, who also unapologetically refused to break eye contact. Holding a beer in his right hand, eyebrows furrowed and shirt sleever pulled up, he looked angry. Yet, he also looked attractive, his gaze dark and possessive, his left hand tense and his jeans hugging his legs perfectly. He raised his bottle towards the both of you as in a friendly excuse of a toast, or even recognition of your existence as something other than 2 nuisances. You nodded again in recognition, a peace treaty that was sure to be broken sooner than later.

As you turned around to keep dancing, you saw Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, amazement and amusement all at once. “What?” you asked, nervous. Before he could even answer, Charles was behind you, half yelling, half whispering, not to you, but to Oscar. “Can I borrow her for a second?”

In his drunkenness, but also his own enjoyment, he merely nodded gleefully, winking at you as Charles gripped your arm softly as if to assure you you were fine, or as fine as you could be in that moment.

The bathroom was tight. Very tight. Or maybe it was spacious but simply felt like it, when Charles was so close to you, his grip on your arm tight but not angry in the slightest. It also felt hot, burning and scalding, like being too close to the sun, yet you knew for sure they had AC and it was on. Releasing your arm, Charles pulled away from you only to lock the door of the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, laughing drunkenly at the stupidity of it all. “You’re gonna drive a lot of people mad by doing that” you tell him while fixing your hair as best as you could. You notice his body stiffening at your words and how they mockingly leave your lips, and even though he is currently not close to you at all, you still feel him on every inch of your skin when he lowers his voice and says “you’re driving me mad.”

Perhaps because you were drunk, you giggled ironically. Not only was the situation frustrating to the point of laughing, it was clear you had the upper hand in this case, with Charles’ voice and expression finally showcasing more vulnerability than usual. “And why is that, Charlie?” you ask, keeping the mocking tone that was getting to him even more this time. With the question, you dared to walk closer to him slowly, not taking your eyes off of his face. His jaw tightened and he looked away, his brain seemingly as loud as the muffled music outside. For a few seconds, you remained like that, in silence, your defiance and his stubbornness fighting quietly. Upon his clear refusal to answer, all you could do was shrug, “that’s what I thought.” You start walking towards the door, but his tall frame stops you before you can get to it. You are, again, so close to him, feeling his scent, alcohol and expensive perfume, but not his touch, for his hands remain by his side. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving if you want,” he started, his jaw tense as he licked his lips. “Then answer me” you demanded.

It wasn’t even that big of a question, you just wanted to hear him admit that he was jealous, even though he had no right to be. You wanted to see where this conversation would go, if you could finally put an end to this game you two were playing, as painful as it was for you to end it. You knew deep down the reason why he didn’t answer was because that meant exactly that – it meant talking about feelings, about rules, about labels. And neither of you were ready to do that. You realized then that you were placing on him the weight of it, cowardice filling you even in drunkenness.

Running a hand through his hair frustratedly, he moved his feet to let you move towards the door, unblocking your passage. You suddenly felt cold, his frame not hovering yours anymore, and that gesture held more vulnerability than any other he had ever done in the past. So, because you were slightly drunk, or maybe in spite of it, you pulled him towards you and kissed him.

His whole body relaxed against you, letting out a frustrated and hungry breath. By now, his hands and lips felt familiar yet new all at once. Your heart raced as if it was all novelty, yet you knew it wasn’t, for you had been craving them for so long. The way he was kissing was new, however. It always seemed to be, every time you two met again, for he seemed to place more and more feeling and less and less thought into his kiss, his lips moving against yours in a needy, almost desperate way, much different from the previous arrogance he possessed.

He let out a breathy whimper against your lips, and you realized then how completely yours he was. You pulled even closer against you, his shirt collar feeling hard contrasting with his soft hands on your body, wrapping your legs around his waist as he placed you on the sink. The coldness of the sink causes you to hiss and then laugh to yourself amidst the kiss, to which he too lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m serious, you do drive me mad” he suddenly said, bringing both of your thoughts back to that which you were trying to avoid. You looked down at the already visible bulge in his jeans, and your eyebrows raised before looking back up at him – “I can tell.”

Charles suddenly looked shy, not expecting your bluntness, and he looked away to compose himself. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on your leg softly, to which you responded by biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes at the feeling. “You really want to talk about that?” he replied to your previous comment, his cockiness coming back as fast as it had disappeared upon realizing how turned on he made you feel by simple touches.

Feeling brave, playful, or overall crazy, you grabbed his other hand and brought it to your lips. You kissed each of his fingers carefully, not hiding your pleasured face as you felt his gaze darken at the sight of you. His grip on your thigh suddenly intensified, this time as an attempt to calm himself down, though it was clear he couldn’t do so successfully. Charles was already going absolutely insane over the view he had, but then you brought his hand to your cheek and placed his thumb on your open mouth. He inhaled sharply, in lustful anticipation, before you closed your lips around him and sucked his finger while looking up at him. “F-fuck… don’t do this to me” he breathed, his head cocked to the side, both desperate and demanding. You took his finger off of your mouth to reply, leaving your mouth smeared with saliva that he spread across your lips as you muttered “why not?”

With the question, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you around, your back pressed hard against him, feeling his heartbeat racing and his cock against you. His hand flew to your hair, pulling it so you could see yourself in the mirror, as the other went back to the position it was before, thumb pushing forcefully inside your mouth. “Look at yourself. You look so fucking hot. You can’t do this to me, not when I’m so so mad at you” he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your body, as he pushed himself against you harder, causing a moan to leave your lips. “What?” he mockingly asked, his eyes pierced on yours through the mirror, a dark smile spreading across his expression.

Everything Charles did hit you with a force a thousand times higher than anyone else. It was the years of accumulated tension that culminated in this incessant need for each other – and it didn’t seem to be fulfilled any time soon. So when Charles released his grip on your hair and removed his hand from your lips, you felt betrayed and disappointed, your underwear soaking wet but unsatisfied. “We’ve had enough fun for a night, you’re drunk” he said, tapping your shoulder carefully as if you were a child.

This sudden change in behavior managed to not only anger you, but also hurt you deeply. It felt like treason, of the highest sort – the way he suddenly seemed to care about your state actually, paradoxically, seemed like the meanest thing one could do in that situation.

“I was drunk the night in my house, too” you replied, your anger coming out of your voice and suffocating any attempts of the hurt from being noticeable. Charles merely closed him eyes softly, taking a deep breath. “We were both drunk. We were both impulsive” he said, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach, making the music stop, at least in your ears, in your mind, in your body. You raised your eyebrows at him, and you wanted to scream, to yell at him, to hurt him back. And you knew the only way to do so was by doing the total opposite of what you felt like doing – “okay” – was the only word that escaped your lips as you made your way out of the bathroom, back into the noise, the drinks, the distractions.

You went home afterwards, your mind spinning and your body too exhausted to keep going. Oscar had dropped you off at home, already sober enough to drive (at least way more than you were), but not before listening to the whole story of What Is Going On Between You and Leclerc, his mouth hanging open during the whole journey. His goodbye was said through a kiss on the cheek and a “don’t show up to races with me anymore, I have to win!”, which made you laugh despite it all.

You now laid in bed, comfortable pyjamas on and too tired to take your makeup off despite the constant warnings from everyone that you should do so. You tried convincing yourself you’d do it later, knowing fully well the most probable scenario was you falling asleep just like that, but it didn’t matter. Your TV was on, something was playing in the background but you weren’t particularly watching it, for your head was still spinning.

The attention you weren’t paying at all was interrupted by your screen lighting up, which normally you would ignore, were it not for its content, and, more specifically, who had sent it.

Charles (Asshole): whre are you (3:12am) Charles (Asshole): cna we talk??? (3:12am)

You shouldn’t answer, in fact, you were tempted not to. However, his texts clearly revealed he was not sober in the slightest, and as much as you hated to admit it, you cared about him. Upon some minutes with your fingers hovering the keyboard on your screen, you replied.

You: home. pls call an uber (3:14am) Charles (Asshole): on my wya. i did. im not taht stupod (3:15am)

The wait seemed hours long. You sat there, before deciding to get some water for yourself, and also for him, who definitely needed it more than you did at this point. You checked how decent you looked in the mirror, and despite frowning a bit at the messy aspect of your comfortability, you decided it did not really matter given the state Charles appeared to be in.

Those suspicions were confirmed after a very badly typed “I’m outside” text, which you decoded well enough to open the door. You were greeted with Charles wearing a giddy smile, his eyes partly glossy and his cheeks red. He seemed unbelievably content, more than usual, and you knew it was because of the alcohol in his veins, his thoughts, his whole body. You stood aside to let him in, and without ceremony, he sprawled across your sofa. “Good memories in here” he started, his voice dragging, stumbling across some words, and finishing with silly giggles.

You merely rolled your eyes at him, despite how endearing he now appeared before you. Sitting next to him on the couch, you felt his head resting on your lap, which, surprisingly, did not ignite your need to protest. Instead, you instinctively caressed his hair, soothing him and yourself at the same time. He let soft murmurs escape his lips, and tried closing his eyes for brief moments. However, he quickly opened them, “God, it spins even more with my eyes closed” he said, bringing his hand to his brow.

“You should drink some water” you said, attentively. Charles looked up at you, his eyes shining with intoxicated passion, and his hand caressed your face softly. “You’re so pretty” was all he could say in reply to your suggestion, a reply which further confirmed the need for him to fulfill that task.

You carefully urged him to sit upright, which he did despite some protests, and brought the glass of water to his lips softly. You watched him gulp the liquid as it dribbled a bit from his chin towards his neck, and you shamefully looked away, images of other much different nights surfacing in your head.

You allowed yourself to look back upon hearing his satisfied “ah” and feeling the weight of the cup decreasing to its minimum. With this, you noticed his shirt unbuttoned, more than usual, and as he sat back, his chest almost fully exposed to you. Your eyebrows furrowed for a few seconds, and you bit hard, holding back whatever feeling was going through you, which you refused to name despite it all. He was drunk, you were not sober, you two had nothing, it was not the time.

You couldn’t help but make a comment though, “I see you didn’t let me ruin your fun” – you tried to joke, but it sounded more petty than you had intended. He looked towards his shirt, then back up at you, before letting out a loud laugh and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, well, I wanted to take you off my mind. Clearly it didn’t work.”

There it was. The thin line you both didn’t want to cross. Frustratingly, the only times you were close to doing so had to be under the influence of alcohol, making it impossible to discern what is meant and what is blurted out. Because of this, you merely shrugged off a laugh, and remained in silence, looking down.

You felt and heard his body shifting closer to yours from behind, his hands making his way towards your shoulders and neck, massaging them softly. You let him, enjoying the feeling, needing it way more than you thought – either the massage itself or the simple feel of his touch, you couldn’t say. At first, his touch was light, almost hard to feel, like a soft breeze on your bare skin. However, slowly, his hands started applying more pressure, getting more greedy with their movements, as if consuming all of you.

His warm breath hit your neck and ears, the sensation causing your vision to completely blur. It impressed you, how despite being drunk, he seemed to know exactly what to do to push you to the edge. You turned your head back towards his and as is gaze fell on your lips, your heartbeat increased, signals travelling throughout your whole body.

Once again that night, you were aware of how you were the one who pulled Charles towards you, relieving him of the need he had for you like this – not merely with touches, but with a ravenous control and hunger, completely at his display. However, you pulled away, your mind stable enough to know what you were doing – if he already thought you drove him mad, he had no clue what was coming.

His confused expression met your suppressed smirk, and before he could protest, or at least question you, you spoke. “You’re drunk. Don’t want to be impulsive,” and with that, you got up and quickly went to your room, coming back with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, which you threw on the sofa. “You can sleep here. Those are Oscar’s,” you were aware you didn’t have to say that, but at that point you realized there were no rules to this game anymore – everything counted. “Goodnight”

You turned away, leaving Charles processing what had happened in those minutes, how things shifted so fast. You felt satisfied with the control you had over him, the payback for what he had done, yet you couldn’t deny the frustration only increased as well. It took so much of you to pull away, to not give yourself up completely to him, especially when you knew how good he felt and how much he wanted you.

You sat in bed and turned on the TV once again, trying to drown the pulsating feeling in your core. It was hard to concentrate, knowing Charles was one door away, his warm body so ready to take you. The images running through your mind left you desperate, and you decided to take matters into your own hands – literally.

You slipped a hand down your stomach, inside your shorts, and touched yourself lightly through your underwear. You were embarrassingly wet, and so sensitive that as soon as your hand found its way between your legs, you left out a small moan. You knew it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, yet you brought the other hand to your mouth impulsively and timidly.

As if guessing, your phone lit up once again, with a couple of texts that left you speechless.

Charles (Asshole): im tryign my best not to go there adn ruin you (4:02am) Charles (Asshole): but youre making it so hard fro me (4:02am)

You couldn’t move – at least, not anything but your hand, drowned between your legs, frantically moving in unconscious and needy desire. You simply stared at the text, biting your lip to prevent any noise from coming out of. As you stared at it, you saw the three dots that told you he was typing more. Your eyes flew to the door, as if you could see through it towards the living room, where Charles was lying, typing these messages to you. The thought of him behind that door got you lightheaded, feeling utterly drunk again.

Charles (Asshole): i know youore reading these (4:04am) Charles (Asshole): if you want me to, ill sotp (4:04am)

Upon that last text, which wasn’t a threat in the slightest but which you interpreted as such, given the urgency in which you needed him to continue, your hand flew to your phone, immediately typing a response.

You: dont stop (4:05am)

It was hard, typing with only one hand, the other occupied trying to replicate Charles’ own touch, and to make matters worse, you couldn’t think straight. Typing those simple words took more time than you cared to admit or wanted, and you knew he wasn’t dumb to not have realized that. That simple request you made boosted his confidence to reply in a manner that immediately hinted that he knew what to do, that he now felt like he had free reign.

Charles (Asshole): why not? (4:05am)

You couldn’t see him, yet you knew this question wasn’t innocent, you knew he was on the other side completely pleased with himself, a smile sprawled across his pink lips.

Charles (Asshole): asnwer me princess (4:06am)

The nickname, even when used to get under your skin – or maybe because of it – set you over the edge completely. You had been holding your composure for so long that this simple word made you whimper, this time loud enough to know he had heard it.

Charles (Asshole): fuck that was so hot (4:06am) Charles (Asshole): i want you so bad (4:07am)

You were now filled with ecstasy, your walls begging for him to fill you, your head swimming in overwhelming arousal. So, you decided to do what you were meant to do since you first placed your lips on his: keep playing.

You: prove it (4:08am) You: i dare you (4:08am)

That text was all it took for Charles to completely unleash himself, getting up from the sofa and moving towards your bedroom, opening the door with urgency, finding your body outlined by the television lights.

He had changed, somewhere in between your trip to your room and his first text, but only partially – he stood, shirtless, before you, standing at the feet of the bed as you looked up at him, your face leveling his waist area.

You licked your lips instinctively, and for a moment time stood still between him and you, his chest rising and falling deeply, his muscles tense with need. Charles broke that spell by placing his index finger carefully on your chin, raising your gaze towards his and stilling it there. You swallowed dry, lustfully. “Show me what you were doing before I came in” he demanded, roughly this time. In fact, his hand remained there, forbidding you from breaking eye contact, as you lifted your arm and brough it downward, back between your legs. “Were you thinking about me?” he asked, voice growing deeper, more imperious. You nodded, as best as you could with the pressure of his hand on your face, now carelessly holding all of you in it. “Use your words” Charles continued, his erection visible, directly in front of you, so desperate, so conflicting with how he seemed so composed and dominant. “Yes” you replied. Yet, this did not satisfy him in the slightest. His grip on you tightened, and a tsk escaped his lips as he shook his head negatively.

Your hand started moving faster, one finger now dipping inside you, which Charles did not fail to notice, but pretended to be unaffected by. Without warning, he pulled down his sweatpants, followed by his boxers, just enough to expose his erection fully to you. Letting go of your face with violent affection, he now gripped your hair as he held his cock in front of you. “Let’s give those pretty lips some other use since you don’t want to talk” he whispered, his tip now caressing your lips. “Open, princess” his tone was commanding, completely new yet so dangerously arousing. You promptly obeyed, shocked yet completely vulnerable before his own desire.

At first, Charles merely played with you, frustrating your desire to have him in his mouth, despite the fact that it frustrated him in the process as well. His grip on your hair got tighter and tighter, as this teasing game was clearly driving him insane. In a swift and quick movement, he placed himself fully inside your mouth, the warmth and wetness causing his body to shudder completely. You swallowed around him, feeling his desperate push to take more of him in. As you removed your hand from in between your legs to hold yourself on his thighs for support, he grabbed it, bringing it back to where it was. “Don’t fucking stop” he growled, almost incoherently. Having him fully inside your mouth, your nose so close to his navel, and hearing his authoritarian tone, caused a cry to escape your lips. You could barely think, let alone speak, now two fingers buried inside your wetness.

Charles movements were rough as he fucked your mouth relentlessly, your name leaving his lips as if in a chant, as you kept holding his gaze. “Tu es tellement doué pour ça, putain” French once again escaping his lips, giving away his lack of self control, as he unleashed himself completely to his desire. You couldn’t help but moan, your eyes teary with the pleasurable strength he was using with you, and you felt yourself close to coming.

Charles himself was close, but did not allow himself – nor you – to continue. Pulling out of you quickly, leaving saliva all over your now darkened and swollen lips, he did not hesitate to push you down on your bed, climbing on top of your body.

Impatiently, he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear off, whilst you pulled your shirt above your head, completely bared to him. Harshly and lusciously, Charles slammed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out to prepare you for him. “So ready for me, fuck” he whispered, more to himself than for you, yet not caring if you heard it.

His already sweaty body shone in the near darkness of the room, satisfaction spread across his focused expression as he saw how your body yearned for his. Removing his fingers from inside you and placing himself between your legs, he pushed in inside you, his hardness filling you up completely. Your back arched instantly with bliss as your legs wrapped around him in an attempt to feel him even closer, as if such was possible. You were trembling from his scent, his breath and the sounds of your bodies on each other. His movements were fervorous and electric, a fast pace which burnt your vision and set your body aflame.

“Charles” your voice begged, as he continued his movements. Your voice worked on him as a reminder of how mad he was when it came to you, how much he needed to take his desire out on you, his jealousy released with each thrust. “Does anyone fuck you as good as me?” he asked, eyes closing slowly from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. You let out a crying “no” as he grunted, his face now buried in your neck, biting it hard.

A crazy thought crossed his mind, one which was more common than he could admit, one that he thought about frequently in the darkness of his room or even when he was trying to distract himself with anyone else – the thought of filling you up, claiming you as his. This was enough for him to be close, as your moans filled the thick air, and he felt so good inside you, enough to feel intoxicated by it.

“You’re mine” Charles let out, incapable of containing himself. His words caused your whole body to convulse with shockwaves of pleasure as you repeated “I’m yours” into his lips, his neck, your nails drawing patterns on his back. His hisses of pain and pleasure revealed how close he was himself, and he positioned himself in order to be able to look at your satisfied and sensitive expression of complete bliss. Charles erupted inside you with a final thrust that made you see fireworks, as the thickness of the air reached an all time high.

After a few seconds of chests rising and falling, breaths being caught and thoughts becoming clearer, Charles pulled himself out of you and laid next to you in your bed, grabbing the remote as he caressed your arm softly.

That movement, the familiarity and comfort of it, how different it was from the uncertainty of what you two were, to the nature of your ‘relationship’, to you still filled with his cum, suddenly made you want to cry.

You wished he would leave, complete the final act so you can repeat it soon, so things didn’t get complicated, complex and hard for you to do anything about. The frustration was enough for you to get up with a “I’m going to take a bath” in a tone he recognized – somehow – as unlike you.

Getting up from his seat, he followed you into the bathroom, where you stepped into the shower and turned the water on, ignoring his presence completely. You kept focusing on the water running down your body, how it resembled his own touch but not as fulfilling, as pleasurable. The sound of the water running incessantly calmed your thoughts, enough so that you could barely hear him come in the shower himself, turning you around so you could face him.

His expression was tender but nervous, aware of something floating along with the vapor of the warm water, fogging the mirror. Yet, he pulled him to you in an embrace in which you two remained for long, longer than maybe it was supposed to, longer than for it to be considered normal. Pulling away, his lips fell onto yours gently, in a kiss that possessed more words than both of you cared to admit.

You knew, then, that was all he could give you in that moment. And you did not know how to feel about that.

@cmleitora @marialovesf1 @champagneholland

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 fandom #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1blr #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader

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miniimight · 7 months

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first off, I just wanna say how I love how you write izuku like??? my sweet boy doesn't get much appreciation and I'm just obsessed with the scenarios you've made with him 🤭💜 second, would it be okay to request a scenario in which the bnha boys (Deku, Bakugo, any other if you want!) who's been dating the reader for a while but it's a secret relationship- which suddenly gets revealed?

thank you! can't wait for more of your writing! 💜

SECRET RELATIONSHIP GETS REVEALED ! the secret relationship between you and your pro-hero boyfriend gets revealed to the public

with deku, bakugo ( pro heroes )

notes ahaha izuku is definitely one of my favs and ur so right when u say he doesn't get enough appreciation :( but i'm here to change that lol ! thanks for requesting ! idk if this is what you had in mind but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

your boyfriend didn't want his relationship with you to go live because one, he's legitimately one of the most hated heroes by villains and two, the media won't ever leave you alone. he found it better this way, for both of your sakes.

it worked for a while, and though the both of you had to make little sacrifices here and there, the arrangement was more than perfect. that was until someone tipped the media off with one (1) very rare photo of you and boyfie out and about in disguise (a terrible one, at that).

photos of the pro-hero's new companion dominated the internet and everyone was wondering who the mystery person was.

it happened so fast that you and your boyfriend were out of the loop. in fact, you and your boyfriend were out on a secret date when the news exploded.

IZUKU

izuku zipped his crossbody bag up and fitted a black baseball cap tightly on his head. his green curls were hard to miss regardless of any disguise he thought up. he flashed you a determined smile. "ready for our day out, love?"

"born ready," you mimicked his way-too-serious tone. "but won't you relax a bit?"

at your comment, his shoulders stiffened. "why, do i not look relaxed?"

he was standing like his friend, iida—almost robotically, like a sentry who was on high alert. you could see the tired circles under his eyes though the shadow of the cap made them almost invisible. his casual outfit covered one of the essential pieces of hero gear; his gloves. it was almost as if he was expecting something bad to happen.

you drifted to his side, an amused smile on your face. "we've done this before, izu. nobody will notice!"

"at least i have a better chance," he raised an eyebrow at you, spinning you around in his arms. "your disguise is non-existent."

"hey, i'm not the super-famous pro-hero that everyone adores." you stuck your tongue at him, making him smile reflexively.

"it's not my fault i'm so charming."

"oh my god."

a little more bickering and a car ride later, you both arrived at the museum you had planned to tour. the guide handed you pamphlets after welcoming you to the grounds, informing you that she'd take you around the exhibits in a short moment.

"oooh..." you flipped through the brochure, excitement bubbling through you. "there's a lot of things in here."

izuku rested his chin on your shoulder, trying to read as fast as you were flipping pages. his hand enveloped yours in an effort to stop you from turning the pages at a lightning pace— "honey, can you go slower?"

you giggled and thumbed the whole pamphlet, making a little buzzz sound as you did so. "weren't you at the top of your class, izu?" you shrugged nonchalantly. "just read faster."

his hands snaked to clasp around your stomach from where they rested on your waist. an uncontrollable laugh threatened to bubble out of you. "really, 'just read faster'? a little cheeky today, aren't you, love—?"

"uhm... couple at the back, please refrain from pda as there are children around." the tour guide cleared her throat. a crowd had gathered for the next tour around the museum and it appeared as though they were ready to start.

you and izuku jumped away from each other as if you were caught by a teacher in high school, your cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"sorry, miss." izuku mumbled in a low voice, head hanging. he gave you an amused smile that you returned with a huge grin, accepting the hand he held out for you.

halfway into the tour, the group grew so bored they retreated to the comfort of their phones. hanging around the back, you thought it unusual that so many people began to glance backwards at you and your boyfriend, whispering among themselves.

you caught glimpses of their phone screens, questioning why the hell your face was on them.

you nudged izuku's side to tell him just as the teens in front of you spun around, screaming "it's deku and his s/o!"

you and izuku froze like deers in headlights as the commotion spread through the group.

wait, how do you know? the news just made a story about it today. there's a picture of them here! and besides, he's wearing the same disguise.

you gave izuku a pointed look and he smiled sheepishly at you. "what the heck should we do?!"

"deny it??" he said, though he didn't seem sure of his answer. "that photo?" he talked to the crowd again. "not her."

"yeah, i get it all the time," you chuckle nervously, playing along. you shrunk into his side. the attention was sending shockwaves through your body.

the kids weren't buying it. "well, you're obviously deku." one deadpanned.

"me?" a boxy grin spread on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "no, i'm just... not him..."

seriously, didn't they have specific media training classes at UA for this kinda thing? you rolled your eyes at his response.

"who else has green hair?!" another crossed their arms. "you're so deku."

you both held up your hands, as if caught red-handed by the police. you squeaked, "we're just two random, normal strangers having a date in a museum, promise—"

a kid waddled up to deku's side and pulled his signature gloves out of his pants' pockets, holding them up triumphantly. yours and deku's head slowly turned to watch it unfold before looking at each other almost comically. a long pause followed.

"it's deku and his s/o!" the kid yelled, pointing a chubby finger at the two of you. the whole vicinity was alerted to the famous hero's presence.

you clung to izuku's arms and the swarm encroached on your space, clamoring for autographs, information, pictures—anything they could get their hands on.

to your surprise, deku wasn't the only center of attention. you were asked your name, age, and occupation, where you grew up, if you knew 'their' deku in high school—

izuku's upper arm came under your bum as he leapt back from the crowd at lightning speed, yelling a very apologetic sorry! as he zoomed the both of you away to safety. you screamed as you hung over his shoulder.

he parkoured his way up the museum building, crouching on the roof. it wasn't the first time izuku used his super speed with you in his arms, but holding you like a sack of potatoes wasn't the best position—not if you liked your neck.

he set you down and smoothed your clothes, his hands flying everywhere accompanied by a thousand apologies.

your hands caught his wrist and you gave him a pointed look. "how did they find out? we were super careful."

his concerned expression quickly turned unimpressed. "sweetheart, you have no disguise."

"they believed i was just some random person after we denied it. they already knew you were deku!" you retorted, flicking his cap upwards and allowing the tufts of green to spring out.

he opened his mouth to respond before he snapped it shut. "it's not my fault i'm hard to miss..." he muttered.

you softened and moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest. "i'm sorry, jus' a little on edge."

his hands rubbed your back soothingly before he hugged you back. "it'll be okay." he felt something cold against him and he looked down to see you pull out your phone, pressing it against his body as you got to the bottom of this. "hey—"

"it's all over the news, along with katsuki and his s/o." you hummed, scrolling through article after article.

"hey." he repeated firmly. he gently tugged the phone from your hands, slipping it in his pocket. "it'll be okay. i'll make sure you're protected, not that you aren't already, and we'll get you a new apartment, closer to mine."

you sighed. "i'm not really worried about that."

he gave you a concerned look, wondering if he needed to look into your lack of self-preservation. "...you're not worried about someone potentially attacking you?"

you rolled your eyes, lightly swatting his chest. "well, duh, but i know no one can really get past you and your brigade of hero friends." you waved off his concern. "i'm worried about the paparazzi and gossip channels—what if everyone decides i'm not good enough and they pressure you to leave me? what if—"

"i'm going to have to stop you right there," he gave one of those self-proclaimed (but also, he wasn't wrong) 'charming' smiles as he cut into your rambling. "being with you is my conviction. no one's gonna pressure me to do anything except marry you one day."

you blinked, a huge grin spreading on your face. all your worries were gone when you let his words sink in.

izuku realized what he really said. "or... something like that, you know?" he muttered under his breath, color rising to his cheeks as he looked away.

a moment passed as he held you on the museum rooftop, the date turning out much different than expected. he gasped out of nowhere, jostling you out of your thoughts. his little giggle made you suspicious.

"kacchan just texted me something really interesting; he got stuck in traffic and is trying to hide out in his car—oh."

"what?"

he turned his phone to you. it was a post titled 'NEW!" and underneath was a very blurry photo of you and izuku on the rooftop at that very moment.

you scrunched up your face. "your fans are weird."

he laughed openly. you stared at him with such adoration that you hoped the press got a picture of his blissful face so you could fawn over it later. "have you even read the things they're saying about you?" he kissed your forehead. "i have a feeling they're gonna grow to obsess over you more than me."

BAKUGO

you heard the impatient jangle of keys as bakugo called after you. "we're gonna be late for our res, baby, get your beautiful ass in the car."

you giggled as you stuffed the last of the stuff you needed in your bag. you exaggerated a gasp and wagged a finger at him. "take me on a date first, mister."

he rolled his eyes. "i am literally trying to do that right now, but someone ain't listenin."

"fine, damn, i'll go on a date with you." you huffed, keeping up with the bit as you walked past him, tossing him a playful look over your shoulder. he smiled softly, following closely.

you got in the car and watched him with starry eyes. he was focused on starting the car and setting the music, but all you could think of was how good he looked in a turtleneck. he had so much faith in that face mask, though, as you'd told him multiple times that it was a really bad disguise.

"you're starin'." he glanced out his window before pulling out the parking spot.

heat rose to your cheeks. he held his hand out and you laced your fingers in them. he squeezed your hand.

the ride was smooth and calm, the hum of the engine complimenting the mellow yet catchy songs playing. you were jamming out until you realized you hadn't moved in a while.

you ducked closer to the windshield. the light was red, and the traffic was piling up. you pursed your lips, glimpsing at the irritated drivers around you.

"looks like we might not make our res, huh?" you mused. bakugo hummed.

"it's whatever, betcha they'll still take us anyway." he grinned mischievously.

you squeezed his hand, chastising him. "kats, you can't use your 'i'm a famous hero' card on date nights."

"m'just teasing, baby." he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. his head rested on his shoulder as he gave you a look. "better get comfortable."

you laughed and let go of his hand, turning fully in your seat to face him. "kats! keep your eyes on the road!"

"why? i wanna look at you." he smirked.

snap!

a bright flash made both of you freeze, though bakugo reacted quicker. he sat up in his seat, leaning over the wheel as he peered out your window at the car beside you. the two girls in the front row were fawning over the picture they just took.

he glared. "a couple of fans, i guess?"

you breathed out a sigh of relief. "thank god i was facing away from—"

snap!

you squeaked in surprise and reflexively covered your face. you leaned back in the seat to see a couple other teens laughing triumphantly over their rare photo.

bakugo observed your shock and panic silently before he laughed, thoroughly amused.

you groaned, slumping below the windows. "i was talking when they took that picture, i'll look distorted." you whined, voice muffled behind your hands.

he tsked. "i'm sure they got your good side, babe." he was trying to act calm but really his mind was racing at a million thoughts per minute. he had tinted windows. he made sure to make an appearance this morning so people would think he was out hero-ing for the whole day. was this a freak occurance, or...?

you opened your phone and were flooded with articles upon articles of you and bakugo on your dates. in hindsight, yes, those disguises were really bad. those pictures were low-quality but anyone who was anyone would be able to recognize bakugo's spiky blond hair.

everyone was speculating who the mystery person was and how their relationship would be, etc etc. you groaned again as you held up your phone to bakugo.

"what?" he whispered, breaking out of his thoughts.

"come down here," you motioned for him to join you below the window.

he scrunched up his face. "... i'm not doing—"

"come down here." you hissed, pulling him by his shoulder to crouch below the window's line of sight. he blinked, not entirely surprised or against the action. "look!"

he scrolled through, some news pages looking familiar. he sighed. "my agency was starting to talk about these rumors."

"why didn't you tell me?!"

"i thought they'd handle it!"

you pouted and he softened, kissing your cheek. "no one's gonna get a hold of any bad pictures of you, promise. i'll make sure of it."

you smiled. "really?"

he grinned, lovesick. "yeah." so what if the whole world would know you're his? he could deal with the details later.

muddled banging made you jump.

"dynamight, is that your s/o?!" the girls from the car over squashed their faces to the window, cupping their hands around their eyes.

you screamed and dynamight gave them a what the hell look.

he blast through the car roof, holding you by the waist as he soared upwards with loud pops behind him. landing on a nearby roof, he checked to make sure you were okay. all he was concerned about was the frown on your face.

"what, you not comfortable with everyone knowin' bout us?" he asked, voice soft.

you perked up, shaking your head. "no! obviously not. i'm just..." you curled your knees to your chest. "you're a hotshot and you have so many people after you. dunno if i meet expectations."

"who cares?" he scoffed indignantly. "you exceed mine. that's all that matters."

you giggled, your sad disposition quickly morphing into a smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." he assured you, pushing your knees down and swinging them to the side. the momentum made your whole body twist so that you were parallel to him. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into his embrace.

"now i gotta call that nerd so he can move our car. we're causin' more traffic."

bonus:

"kacchan!" izuku chirped, his s/o on his back as he floated in the air. bakugo's face twisted up as if the green-haired boy wasn't one of his best friends.

"hey." bakugo jerked a thumb at his very broken car. "can you take care of that for me?"

"yeah, i got it." with his gloves on, izuku initiated blackwhip. the tendrils snaked around the car and hoisted it into the air, freeing up that lane once again. "did you suddenly get exposed out of nowhere, too?"

bakugo snorted. "yeah, ain't that a coincidence?"

izuku chuckled softly as he nodded. "yeah, super weird."

who could've gotten the jump on two of the most famous heroes' love lives, anyway?

#bakugou x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku fluff #bakugou fluff #deku fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku

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xjulixred45x · 4 months

Text

Rin Okumura x Half Angel! Reader

Request from @birdgirl98

Hi! How’s your weekend going? Could I request Blue Exorcist Rin relationship headcanons with a female half angel half human reader? Please and thank you!

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: Minor Manga Spoilers, some discrimination, Reader is Half angel, Fluff.

Rin was quite shocked when he first met you.

more than anything because he confused you with another Nephelim, due to the...strange aura you had.

Rin even felt threatened by you, by your presence. Maybe bc You were somewhat Holy.

probably his instincts as a son of satan tried to "protect" him from you in a certain way.

but at the same time very intrigued.

apart from the fact that, in general, you were never mean to him, in the least. In fact, quite the opposite. not only with him, but with everyone in the class, no matter how rude they were(ahem hem IZUMO ahem hem), you were always so... bright and friendly.

You honestly already knew that he was the son of Satan even before he said it because of all the demonic power he and the sword gave off, but you didn't want to expose it because you knew how horrible it was to be a victim of that.

While you were growing up there were people who found out about your "holy ancestry" and tried to take advantage of it in multiple ways. if it weren't for your mother.

You got used to having a certain distance from people, although you never stopped being friendly with others.

Apart from the fact that you were also strong, it could be seen with the naked eye. It was that that made him (and most of them) think that you were also the daughter of some demon.

It didn't help that Mephisto constantly tried to get close to you to make "inside" jokes that no one understood.

but in general Rin didn't dare to talk to you, he just felt intimidated at first.

you had to take the first step in this. when you two were assigned a job together.

precisely because you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable after making conversation, asking him about work, things like that.

and Rin began to gain more confidence to address you more naturally later.

Little by little the "intimidating" atmosphere around you dissipated and he was able to start a conversation with you as he normally would with his colleagues.

You realized that he was doing poorly in most subjects, so you started to give him a hand in that.

sometimes with little notes, indirectly telling him the answer, evolving in afternoons of study with him. which led to you getting to know each other better.

It was around that time that Rin decided to ask about your parents. His curiosity was already reaching its limit.

and you decided to be honest with him, after all, who would understand better about mismatched parents if it weren't the SON OF SATAN?

and you told him that you were not a daughter of a demon. quite the opposite. but of an ANGEL.

Your mother had fallen in love with a celestial being but said being practically did not participate much in your life until you developed your powers, that was when the Vatican intervened and, similar to Rin, Mephisto intervened on your behalf.

Now, that made your intimidating aura make A LOT more sense to Rin!

for a moment at least.

Then he was very confused.

and he started asking you a lot of questions about your father and things like that because, well, he KNEW about demons and they even studied about them, but angels?? It is something completely NEW for him and he hardly knows that they also exist.

His questions aren't exactly invasive, but more on the side of innocent curiosity like "does that mean there's a heaven? (I guess I won't be able to go there because-you know) there's a GOD? Does your father work with him??" "Are the angels just as ugly as the ones they show in the Bible?(how did your mother like that then? ew)" etc.

It's even kind of cute to see, how Satan's son seems so intrigued by the "heavenly world" even if it is its total opposite.

Apart from the fact that not even YOU know the answer to more than half of those questions. but at the same time you finally have someone who doesn't seem bothered by this information...quite the opposite.

I firmly believe that Rin would be much closer to you now, because they are the only ones who fully understand each other's situation of having a questionable father but on different levels.

Rin also understands that you don't want to tell your classmates, whether for personal reasons or simply not wanting to tell them so as not to scare or intimidate them with the idea of angels.

Although even so, Rin will always remind you that he is on your side and that your companions will always ALWAYS see you as one of the group, regardless of your species.

Now, if that generates a conflict similar to the one it caused when he revealed himself as the son of Satan, he has your back and tries to get everyone to make peace, because 1- you didn't have to say it if you didn't want to and 2- it's something very staff who have hurt you before. They should be a little more empathetic.

If everyone learned from their experience with Rin and accepts you at first, he will be calmer and even proud of the progress they have made as a group.

everyone together tries to make theories about heaven and things like that 🤣

probably being the only daughter of an angel, similar to Rin, they put you in special training, but maybe instead of with Shura, with Yukio. so you both end up spending a lot more time together.

If you have wings, Rin DEMANDS to touch them! Of course, he won't do it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but if you give him permission...oh boy he's rubbing his face in the feathers as if it were a pillow.

If you show your wings to the other classmates they will be quite shocked, but also intrigued (I can see Shiemi putting accessories on your feathers or brushing them 🥰 )

If we talk about advanced relationship terms, Rin is a physical contact guy, he really likes to hug you, give smooches, hold hands, anything is good for him as long as they are making physical contact.

Although in general spending time with you is good for him when he is stressed, it is like it recharges his battery.

If you like manga or something like that, HE'S YOUR BOY! I can definitely see him doing the unthinkable with you: lending you one of his Mangas.

He is also an expert at making you laugh, but he is a fan of doing it at the LEAST opportune moments, like for example, you are having a lesson with Yukio and out of nowhere you look to the side and turn to Rin with his chopsticks in his nose :/

He's also, canonically, very good at cooking, so depending on whether you're good at cooking or not, it could be another way for you to spend time together!

If you're like me and cook anything randomly, you and Rin can probably have a cute couple moment while making Bentos🥰

If you want to learn to cook, he teaches you! Go from being Gordon Ramsey in Master Chef to being Gordon Rasmey in Kids Chefs with you. super patient and loving.

(totally ruthless if it were anyone else. by anyone else I mean Yukio).

He is also quite protective of you.

For example, even if he saved your life and his, he knows better than to trust Mephisto too much, so if he sees him trying to pull one of those "inside jokes" I mentioned above, Rin gets defensive.

Also in general in exercises you tend to put your safety above the main objective😅 even if he know that they are not lethal exercises, it does not mean that you cannot get hurt easily(like the one of the Ep1).

Although it doesn't mean he doesn't trust your abilities! If you show that you have good skills in exorcising, he is the first to encourage you to improve. It makes him calmer knowing that you can defend yourself (or better yet, stop him if he gets out of control).

Rin is also sometimes afraid to be a little more open emotionally, after everything he has been through, he believes he handles everything well. But if you encouraged him to talk about what bothers him, I think he would honestly burst into tears.

You two understand each other on a very high spiritual level. If Satan wants to mess with YOUR boyfriend he will have to deal with you first. You can't stand the demon.

If your father comes out of the blue to "try to reconcile" or WORSE, wants to hurt you for being a half-blood, he will have to face the fury of the literal spawn of SATAN. Rin is not very nice to your father, very angelic and all, but having the father figure that he had, he definitely sees your father as unworthy of the title of Father.

(unless obviously you have a good relationship with your father currently despite everything. In that case Rin wishes things were that easy for him)

although I can definitely see him filling out nicely with your mother! He himself never met his and from what he learned more about her and Satan... he would really have liked to have someone like you had.

It may even become a habit to go to your mother's house from time to time, to get a taste of the life he wants in the future.

Overall, Rin completely accepts your angelic nature just like you completely accepted his demonic nature. He likes to think that you two are two sides of the same coin, for this reason, he supports you unconditionally and will be your accomplice no matter what.

He loves you very very much regardless of whether you are half angel, demon or just a normal human.

Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #blue exorcist x reader #blue exorsict #blue exorcist #blue exocist rin #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #ao no exorcist x reader #ao no exorcist

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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Took Too Much

❝They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together.❞

PAIRING : Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.5k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : explicit sexual content, substance abuse, longing, mutual pining, vulnerability, they're in love and just want each other, angst with a happy ending.

SMUT WARNINGS : grinding, dry humping, foreplay, petnames, launderie kink, desperation, WORSHIPPING (quite literally), unprotected intercourse (don't try at home).

A/N : This piece is a little heavier than what I usually write but am particularly fond of it; feedback much appreciated. As usual, enjoy, lovelies. ♡

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

It's funny.

How a single 'ding' can mean so much, can seize your heart, can threaten to bring out what you have been trying so hard to suppress.

It was a heat of the moment thing, done in good fun.

"It gives me a special privilege," he'd said.

"That makes no sense. You already occupy the largest unit in my heart," you'd breathed against his lips.

Moving back an inch, he'd whined, "It'll let you know it's me and that you have to abandon everything to give me attention. Pretty, please?"

You never could say no to his doe eyes, a fact he exploited on the daily.

So you'd given in, changing the ringtone for his messages and calls to one that is seperate from the rest of your contacts.

So really, it was a spur of the moment decision he'd proposed after having been interrupted mid make out session, him claiming a special place on yet another part of your being.

It's funny, honestly.

How the tone that once was the cause of butterflies going rampant in the pits of your belly, now has reason to cause grief of the same, if not more, measure.

You know who it is before you even chance a glance at your screen, but you look all the same.

Not knowing what you were expecting, the sorrow burning a deeper shade of red is felt and you reckon that it's the price to pay for reaching out to something you know would elicit a reaction such as this.

Hyun<3

You hadn't deleted his contact, the reason you're unsure of to this day. Perhaps a reminder that he did in fact once exist in your life, had a grounding presence, a place reserved all for himself in the mainland of your heart, and not someone entirely dreamt up.

It surely felt like it at times.

The silence from his end hurt you, broke you, shattered you, despite having been at your request. Days seemingly never ending, nights even moreso, your house empty, bed cold. All of it ate away at you a little at a time, leaving behind a silhouette tainted with holes, torn and run down at the edges.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't imagine, didn't long, didn't yearn for this very moment. The moment his side of the silence ceases, the moment he, despite your asks, reaches out.

So why does your heart feel about fit to burst at the seams? Why do you so badly want to run away? Why do you feel the air suddenly burning its way into your lungs?

"Hello?" your voice is but a whisper, foreign to anyone who's known you.

"Baby?"

Eyes closing shut, you let a long drawn sigh escape your nostrils. Being all too consumed in the eagerness of the manifestation of the moment you'd been wanting, you didn't stop to consider what his voice was capable of inflicting, underestimating your own longing for everything that's him.

"Baby, you there?"

"Why are you calling me?"

A rustling sound follows, as he lets out his own well deserved breath of air.

It's a sense of relief, if anything. Knowing that you're not the only one tormented.

A sick, sadistic kind of relief, sure. But relief all the same. Labels stopped meaning much to you a while ago.

"Missed your voice," he mumbles, tone having an unusual tilt to it.

You don't respond. Or rather, you can't. For if you will yourself to speak in this moment, a choked sob is about all that'll make its way out.

"Missed you," the tilt deepens and you catch yourself mere moments before voicing out your concerns. Not having spoken to him since the pair of you parted ways, it's going to take time adjusting to the fact that he's no longer accountable to your questions, your worries. And you're no longer expected to care for him.

You are no longer wanted.

"Why are you calling?" you echo, the fact that your voice is growing quieter by the second not lost on you. If anything, it's the same fact that withholds you from saying more.

"It's the first snow today."

You know what he's thinking. It'd be a lie to say you haven't been thinking the same all day.

You stay quiet, waiting for the blow.

When did you turn into such a masochist? You know the next thing coming out of his mouth is going to tear apart your tattered heart that you've been fixing up the past year since he left you.

"We met on the day of the first snow."

Alas, bandaids don't fix bullet holes.

They're ripped apart, shredded to nothing. Tattered and frayed, used for all their worth. Leaving behind the pieces of your heart, desperately clinging onto each other, trying and failing to stay in league.

"They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together."

A dry chuckle follows, filling the air with despair, a feeling contrary to the act in of itself.

"That's all fucking bullshit, isn't it?" the tilt to his voice wavers, a little sniffle enough to withdraw one from you too.

"Look where it got us," the silky voice breaks, the same one you adored.

The voice that once called you 'love', whispered confessions into your hair, your ears, your core. The voice that took on a hoarse tone when you woke up in his arms on late mornings, the one that promised to be with you always.

Empty confessions. Empty promises.

"Why are you calling?" seems like this is the only thing that's making its way out of your throat tonight. The only thing that can make its way out.

He hums, then chuckles again. The same hollow laugh, detached, impassive, phlegmatic.

"You always were stubborn, weren't you?"

"Hyunjin," your voice is stern, indicative of a warning.

But he finds no such emotion behind it.

"Keep going."

"Wh—"

"Keep saying my name. Please."

It's only going to take so much for the choked sob that you've been holding at the back of your throat to be let out. And it's taking every fibre, every alight neuron within you to keep it in.

"Why?" a meek whisper. Your voice wavering.

"Because I love it. Love you," a quiet sob. His tone trembling. "Still," A single word. Sealing in an entire universe worth of meaning.

Eyes falling shut again, you don't stop the trail of heat that burns your cheeks. For the first time in a year, you let yourself go. Let yourself feel.

Even if it's grief. Even if it's sorrow.

Your let yourself feel.

A huff of breath is heard through the receiver, followed by a shudder.

"You were always better than me with cold."

Your eyes snap open, back ramrod straight and despite knowing what you'll find, you hastily draw the curtains aside. And sure enough, the snowfall is steady, windy breeze rustling leaves off their petioles, streets emptier than they should be considering the early hours of night.

And for good reason.

"Hyun, are you out?"

"You still have me all figured out," he lets out, and you can almost see his breath condensing in front of his face, courtesy the coldest day of this year's winter.

"What are you doing out? Get in right now," the assertive tone isn't something you've used in a while. Maybe you just didn't have anyone to use it on anymore.

He chuckles again, seemingly the only reaction he's able to give you, the only reaction that doesn't involve speaking, lest the wobble to his tone give him away.

"Hyun, seriously. Get the fuck in."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Don't know where I am," the sigh that follows lets you know that he just closed his eyes. It's the one he let out every night when he laid behind you, his chest to your back, him buried deep in you. It's when he felt the most at peace, he used to say. Coming home and being with you, feeling you, inside out. Quite literally.

Though what he's finding peaceful about the biting cold is beyond you.

"What do you mean you don't know? Hyun, don't fuck with me right now."

The next chortle is almost a laugh, the irony of your statement not lost on you. You think you hear something eerily similar to "how I wish" through the microphone, but you choose to ignore it.

"Hyunjin. For the last time, where are you?" even as your tone indicates your growing impatience, your body works on autopilot. Before you know it, you're getting up and reaching for your car keys, all while throwing a fleece jacket over your shoulder.

"Is getting you mad the only way to make you say my name?"

He's not listening. Something you're not used to. Sure, not listening and communicating is what got you both where you are today, but it's something you've never been at the receiving end of. It's the complaint he always had. And the complaint you always brushed off.

You suddenly remember another spur of the moment thing you did back in the day.

You pull out the app where you had your locations visible to each other, knowing of the other's whereabouts at all times. Your friends had called it a red flag, that he was possessive, obsessive even, to suggest something of this sort.

Little did they know it was your idea.

You see him, his little bitmoji some ten kilometres away from your current location.

Even as you're making your way to the car, shoving the steady falling snow out of the way, you make a show of protesting, "Use goggle maps and drive home."

"Can't drive either."

"Why?"

Silence.

And it gives you reason to fret. Despite the unnerving tilt, he's been responsive and dare you say vulnerable all throughout, the shake to his voice not holding him back from letting his feelings known.

So the first time he's silent is enough to make you break into a cold sweat.

"Hyun, why can't you drive?"

You hear him drag a hand down his face, some rustling of clothes following shortly after.

Another deep exhale, another beat of silence.

"Hyunjin," you settle on it as the last measure, knowing it's the only way he'll answer, the weakness he has for you saying his name made plenty clear today.

"I'm sorry," the whisper is barely there, almost lost in the sounds of your engine revving.

But he's the only one you've ever had ears for.

So you hear him. You hear him loud and clear.

"Why?" while he may not be egoistic, apologising isn't something either of you are good at. It's always been that way. A constant push and pull, a tug of war, a battle of wills, seeing you caves in first, who loses first. Hardly a healthy partnership, but what you had with him made it all worth it. More than worth it. He's the closest thing to a soulmate you'll ever have. If they do in fact exist, he's your other half.

He once was. He always will be.

"I- I just.. I'm sorry, baby."

Ice cold panic grips your heart, the external cold fading by comparison. He's apologized twice in a row now, and while your past self would call it improvement, in this moment, dread is the only sentiment you feel.

You stay silent, stepping on the race, praying he doesn't pick up on the sound of your engine accelerating.

A long moment of daunting silence later, he says something you don't understand, or rather refuse to understand.

"I took too much."

Its beyond refusal, a feeling akin to denial.

You deny to process what he just said, what he just implied, what he just meant.

"Stay right where you are," so, much like everything else, you choose to ignore it.

He seems taken aback for all of three seconds before his tone softens, "You coming to get me?"

You choose to ignore this too, convincing yourself that this is just mindless rambling to him.

His words suddenly hold no weight, his confessions empty.

Like always.

You glance at the GPS mounted to the dash.

One kilometre away.

"Do you remember when I kissed you?"

"You've kissed me more times than I can count."

Even as your heart is splitting in two, even after the recent realisation, you somehow find yourself reponding.

It's honestly all you've been wanting since he walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, out of your life that late September night.

"That day. The day of the first snow. The day we met."

You don't respond.

He takes it as a sign to continue.

"I knew it then. I know you knew it too."

Eight hundred metres.

"That you were for me. And I you."

Silence from your end again.

"How did we end up here?"

You know how. He knows how.

Five hundred metres.

Suddenly, a loud beep resounds, the call abruptly ending. That sends you into a chill panic, grip on the gear tightening. You pull over, and try tracing his location again. To no avail.

The location is gone. The ringtone goes straight to voicemail. Messages not delivering.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remind yourself between deep breaths that he's capable of taking care of himself.

But then comes a gush of memories. Of a time when he walked straight into a pole while facetiming you once. You'd laughed then and called him a manchild.

The memory, albeit fond, doesn't help ease your worries, only aggravating the uneasy churn of your stomach.

Exhaling loudly, you talk yourself down your own anxiety first, realising that this is the first step if you want to have any chance at getting to him.

This is the general location, you remember. Once again, you kick start your car, the frantic rumble of the engine echoing down the empty roads, signifying the urgency of the affair.

It takes another twenty minutes and a slow drive down the snowy streets for you to spot a silhouette in the distance.

The person is slumped down against a rusty pole, back pressed to it, long legs propped up with feet flat on the snow covered pavement, head resting on the bend of their elbow thrown over upward knees. With their head buried in the crook of their arm, their face isn't visible, the thick smog hovering around them adding to the haze.

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

You don't know when you got off your car, for now you find yourself looking down at the same silky golden locks.

Your boots sink into the snow, the ice underneath them melting.

He gives no indication of knowing of your arrival, and you wonder if he's managed to somehow fall asleep here.

Tiny snowflakes having made themselves home on his hair, almost forming a halo, he looks angelic. You reach out, wanting to dust them off his head before your stop, hand hovering.

You're suddenly tentative, when you didn't hesitate to tug on these very locks whenever he was in you.

That simple knowledge brings forth the harsh reality.

He's here. Right in front of you. Yet so far away.

Hand still in air, you're entirely unprepared when his head suddenly shoots up, palm grabbing your wrist.

"Baby?" his voice is gravelly, eyes bleary.

Yet he's the most perfect piece of art you ever did see.

He's gorgeous, your mind says to you— as if the fact could've ever been hidden, been denied even in incoherence.

But it's when you look closely that it comes crashing down. The realisation.

His slim face is gaunt now, eyes red and hazy, bags prominent. He's gorgeous, sure, but not as stunning as he once was.

You're suddenly knocked off balance, back pressing into the pole he was just resting on, the surface hot from his warmth.

It takes far too long for you to perceive what it is that's actually happening. His fingers dig into your hips, large palms splayed over your back, winding to the front, thumbs meeting. Warm breath tickles your neck, forcing out a gasp of your own.

"You're here," his voice is hushed, reverent even, afraid that the illusion of you would disappear any moment.

You nudge his shoulder, trying to shake him off, albeit unwillingly.

He removes himself from where he's nestled, looks you in the eye before closing them, forehead resting against yours.

From what you were able to make from that brief glimpse into his orbs, they're bloodshot, not the kind that result from lack of sleep nor the ones that speak of tiredness.

No, they are indicative of him being far away from the realm of normal thinking. It's the excuse you allow yourself to live, the reason you don't push him off you.

He's not thinking.

His tongue darts out, gliding over the plump of his lower lip, the texture of which you know by heart. Parting open, quick breaths leave him, and the proximity is to blame for the fact that it goes right into your mouth.

He puffs rapidly as if suddenly breathless, lips quivering, seemingly trying to find something to say, or perhaps trying to not say what his heart wants to.

"Tell me you're real this time."

This time?

"Hyun—"

"Just- just tell me you're really here," his eyes open slowly, drowsily, forehead still pressed into yours, hands sliding from your hip up your sides, caressing, feeling, landing on your nape.

Once again they circle you, this time overlapping over the back of your neck as he pulls you closer still, "That I'm not making you up again."

"What happened to you?" looking into his eyes again, you know it's not him. He's gone. For now.

So it's more of a question to yourself than to him.

What happened to him? What happened to your artist, your lover, your Hyunjin?

And just as you surmised, your question fell on deaf ears for he is a man on a mission.

"Baby, you're here right? With me? You came to me?"

Moving to close your nimble hands over his big ones, you relish in their warmth for a moment, the reason of said unnatural heat another thing you choose to ignore for now.

You can wallow in guilt by yourself later. All you want.

But now that you've allowed yourself this moment of weakness with him, you plan to bank on it.

"Yes, Hyun, it's me. I'm here."

Encircling your arms around broad shoulders, you pull him to you, into you. His own hands slip to your hips, squeezing you right back.

"I keep seeing you everywhere, everyday. Wherever I am. Whenever I'm awake."

You think you hear a sob, but don't let it show, for you're not immune to the sorrow either.

Maybe the apathetic front was just that, after all. A front. One you had to put up, one you had to believe in— fool yourself into believing in, if only for self preservation.

"You're not making me up this time."

He doesn't reply with words, doesn't need to. The way his hold on you tightens, lips brushing the side of your neck speaks volumes.

Hot, wet kissed trail up the column of your throat, their heat melting off any snow falling on you. Surroundings be damned, you throw your head back, giving him the silent consent.

That seems to be invitation enough for him, as his kisses turn to sucking, sucking turns to biting. He's marking you, something he enjoyed partaking in quite a lot back in the day, and you already know the colour of each of the marks that he's leaving, only through the pressure and the ratio of tongue-teeth action he spares your skin.

You permit it, indulging him, indulging yourself.

But it's when he noses his way to your jaw and finally lifts up to look into your eyes that you're reminded of reality, of his incapacitated state.

You jolt back, practically shoving him off.

He's understandably puzzled, brows creasing, panting.

"Wh— did I do something wrong? I remember you liked when I did this? You don't anymore?"

"No. It's not that. I do like it. Maybe even more than before."

The crease to his forehead eases out as he takes a single step forward, to which you take one of your own. In the opposite direction.

He stops dead in his tracks, the bend to his brows deeper than before.

"Baby, why are you going away from me?"

You try not to look into his eyes, the branching redness visibly growing new stems by the second.

"Don't go away from me."

Unlike what some might assume, you're not put off, not repulsed by gleam to his eyes, nor by their sanguinence. In not too proud of a moment, you'd say you're even used to it.

It's what you see every time you look into the mirror. What you hate, what you need.

A vicious cycle. A cursed affair.

The glint in your eye reflects his, ignites his, the two light beams meeting to string together.

The profane symphony. The impious consonance.

You did try. Tried not to let it take over you, it's been more than half a day since you last indulged in a sniff, after all. But Hyunjin is nothing if not a vice to your repressive instincts.

Your kryptonite. Your aphrodisiac.

One look at his bloodhsot eyes and you know this is it. He is the one. Who else could be the other half to your broken, tattered soul? Who else could be the mirror image of your own intoxicated orbs? Who else could slot into your cracks?

He steps forward, and this time you don't have it in you to recoil. Closing your lids, you let him snake his arms around your waist, pull you impossibly close. His face finds the comfort of your neck again, hot breathe laced with desperation marking the seeping away of the last of your restraint, taking with it any hope you had to do this right. For once.

"Don't go."

You've known him long enough to realise he's pulling apart your guard, piece by excruciating piece. You've known yourself long enough to realise you're caving, embracing the pain that is him.

"Let's get you home."

You don't see anything, too consumed in the fire that is him, his touch.

You're kissing him like you need him to breath. He's kissing you like he needs you to survive.

His hands pull down the zipper to your shirt, legs guiding you back onto the bed proper, step by step.

You land on your back with a soft thud, shirt thrown off somewhere. His own following suit soon after.

His eyes land onto the black lace adorning your chest, shining and all too inviting. The same lace he got you for your two year anniversary, the same lace he had you in that day, the same lace he had you in on countless days after that.

He places one knee between your legs, the duvet dipping, and nuzzles his face in your cleavage, taking in a long inhale.

Nosing about, he whispers, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

You know what he means. He never failed to mention what this set did to him, to his brain, his length. And you'd made it a point to use it against him every chance you got.

Today however, was not that chance, but you're grateful for the fateful coincidence.

He gets up only to slowly peel off your leggings and partially hovers over you, knee between your legs again, this time much closer to the warmth of your core.

His eyes trail down your figure, taking in all the curves, the crevices. Remembering all that once was his, learning all that he wasn't there to witness during your time apart.

His hands gently move up and down your sides, caressing and massaging, eyes going back and forth between the two lace pieces.

They're the same pair, but your body has changed quite a bit since he last had you in it.

You've somehow managed to surpass your own beauty and it's nothing if not a detriment to his sanity.

And his stamina. He's suddenly not too proud of it, if the exponential build up of his arousal is any indication.

The heavy caresses have now pushed you down the bed, your heat coming in contact with the rough patch of denim on his knee. You gasp at the contact, your core tender from how drenched you are from all his staring and fondling.

He picks up on it and uses his hold on your hips to begin grinding you on his knee. You groan, your thin silky lace and his thick rough denim adding to your arousal. Never would you have imagined that simple gliding, over the confines of clothes no less, could feel this good.

This is what being with Hyunjin is always like. Trying, experimenting, tapping into uncharted territory, with the knowledge of safely, of assurance, of security.

Sleeping with him, you got to know of your own body, what made it tick, your likes, your turn ons.

Being with him, you got to know of yourself, what made you you, your talents, your strengths.

Existing with him, simply made you whole.

So if this is all you get, you'd be content.

Moans and whimpers echo in the room that's now empty without his studio table nestled in the corner, without his clothes piled up in random heaps, without music equipment thrown astrew on the wooden floor.

Empty. Empty. Empty. Without him.

"Goddess."

A loud moan rips from your throat, the sound unholy. Your eyes snap open, in shock of your own reaction.

"You like that?"

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you're not sure what to say. It's yet another uncharted territory, yet another epiphany. And you're grateful it's with him.

Leaning forward he captures your lips between his soft ones, tongued clashing, spit mixing, swaying his head side to side, smearing your collective essence all over your cheeks and jaws.

"Like it, my goddess?"

Another equally loud moan echoes, even as his grinding has ceased. Your response is unprompted, no physical stimulation in sight.

While it might have been embarrassing, you're anything but.

Simply because it's him.

And you're not yourself. And he's not himself.

But you're together. All else rendered trivial.

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

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alphacentaurinebula · 6 months

Text

Status: Quo

One of my favourite things about the fact that Aziraphale and Crowley have the same fights multiple times in different contexts is that in real life people have the same fights for years. Different contexts, different prompts, but the fundamental disagreements within a relationship rarely change until people make a conscious choice to do something differently. To understand the other person's perspective, and actually communicate.

Crowley and Aziraphale have spent the last few years, post antichrist, very much not choosing to do anything different. They've been living their beautiful, loving, precarious existence on tiptoes. Not acknowledging anything, not talking (and not listening), not doing anything that might possibly rock the boat or threaten their fragile status quo.

They both love each other so much - and the precious existence that they carved out for themselves - they can't risk any change.

I really don't think the kiss would have happened were it not for Gabriel and all the change and chaos and risk he brought into their lives. Or at least not for a very very long time.

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable idiots

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thydungeongal · 28 days

Note

apologies if this has been asked already, but I'm curious as to why you enjoy monsterhearts so much? you recommend it because the mechanics support narrative arc, due to the way the skins are narratively connected to a certain high school clique. but I found that to be the most frustrating part of the game, honestly.

I was constantly hitting my head against the narrative and my character because it felt like there was only one way to really play a skin and their arc. one of my favorite things to do in ttrpgs is to Subvert classes and tropes, but in monsterhearts your relationship to your class (and the mechanics that go with it) feel either static or inevitable. The Queen is always the Queen Bee, which I guess makes sense, but it simply feels boring.

your monsterheart post was in response to why everyone likes d&d warlock, and op said its because warlock's mechanics are strictly tied to its narrative, but i disagree: I think a lot of people, me included, like warlock because of the Choices and freedoms that come with the class. you didn't Have to play a warlock with a direct, antagonistic, and codependent conflict with their patron. because the game does not have any specific mechanics for patrons, you can kind of do whatever with them.

I always think that limits will make someone think more creatively in those bounds, and I was hoping monsterheart would have that sort of creative energy, but when I was playing it, I felt like I was wrangling the rules and my own moveset at every turn.

am i simply not viewing the game in the right way? is it just not for me? am i not being creative enough? I'm trying to get over the mindset that rules are the enemy, but idk. i just haven't been able to really get into smaller ttrpgs except like, troika! (which i do love a lot tbh), and i want to know what I'm missing. sorry for the long, rambling question

It might simply not be for you. For me the fact that the skins each represent a clear narrative trope within high school drama that has ways that the rules encourage them to act in (those ways being Bad because the point of the game is to produce explosive melodrama) is a net positive, because the character skins are not just "classes" but also archetypes. And while within a single skin the narrative arc of the character can feel like it's prewritten it never exists in isolation: there are always the other PCs, the rest of the school, and the town the characters live in, as well as whatever Threat threatens the town this time. All of those, in combination, are what makes the arc and what makes the narrative truly emergent. Monsterhearts really shines as a game where the PCs are at each other's throats and working at cross purposes, and because of that the best experience comes from approaching it via simply producing the most fun melodrama while trying to fuck with the other characters.

Also I do think there's something to be said for the freedom afforded by the Warlock in D&D in having the license to consider the character's relationship to their patron, but I also see that there being very little meat to the relationship with the patron, mechanically, means that there is also very little narrative weight attached to it. Because narratives in RPGs emerges from mechanics. The Warlock is a great example of a class that has well-established ties to the fiction of the world and that suggests drama, but still leaves all of that up to the group. Or, as @rathayibacter said in the replies to that post:

the thing that kills me is that, rules as written, your warlock patron doesnt actually matter. dnd gives zero tools to the players or gms for how to get a warlock's patron involved in the game outside a few vague suggestions. it's the best the game's got to offer, and its still 95% people bringing their own soup to the restaurant that only sells stale crackers.

Anyway, D&D also has strong character archetypes for the point of the game it's mechanically most opinionated about: combat. While people do complain about Rogues doing nothing but sneak attack all day, that's literally what the fiction sets them up to do, and a Rogue that sneak attacks all day in D&D is doing God's own work. So too with the Mortal who ends up in the middle of a romantic triangle/square/pentacle in Monsterhearts thus making the situation more fucked up, because that drama is what the mechanics of Monsterhearts are concerned with.

But yeah tastes on this do vary and some people are okay with background stuff being just suggestions, but I personally like it when it is actually in harmony with and supported by the mechanics, because that makes the fiction tangibly real in the game. But idk

#thydungeongal answers

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odusseus-xvi · 9 months

Text

Pomme's paranoïa

Because aparently I can't stop talking about this little egg. I wanted to touch this subject because it is something CRUCIAL to her character, and from what I've seen Richas, in his letter to Forever, has actually talked about that and how he is worried for her.

I want to talk here about WHERE that paranoïa might come from idea by idea (more in depth than my post about Pomme as a whole) :

Bobby died THE DAY after her arrival, that probably didn't help. That also caused a startle in everyone on the island making everyone a lot more paranoïd that they already were at Pomme's arrival, she then had the realization that life was EXTREMELY dangerous and limited on the island VERY early on, in a way a bit similar to Richas if we think about it, though Richas experienced it and so processed it wildly diferently, she got a dreadful suspense ; when is it coming to me ? To the others ? Because that's the thing, she is not as scared of losing her lives as she is scared of losing the others and the others losing her.

Not long after Dapper lost his first life to the code, that not only added to the already constant background aprehension, but that also made her the LAST egg with two lives, and from now on, everytime people talked about her was about how she was the next target of the code.

And then she WAS : Targeted by the code next to Ninho after everyone was worried of the tweet from Quackity Studios, and after she was saved THREE times from the codes she saw the people she cared about turn against each other because she had been not careful (Her french dads becoming suspicious of Forever, and therefore of Baghera.) (she was in fact "mind controlled" to come outside but from her POV it was still her fault.) From now on SHE CANNO'T let her guard down, this is both too dangerous for her and the people she loves.

A bit later was the attack that was then considered not canon by the admins because the attack was WAY too powerful : It broke a lot of totems at once and broke all of her armor. Though her death was not considered canon by the admins at first, Pomme (and the admin) played it as actually existing, not as a nightmare, not as non existant, but as an actual event she was saved from by someone or something : She talks about it from time to time, she truly died a bit that day.

(a little quote from that event from her diary because it's Heartbreaking)

"The pain was excruciating. It pierced my body, and with each hit, I felt the life leave my body a little more. The noise of the totems was deafening, the pain prevented me from running to escape. Just a few seconds later, I felt intense pain, even more intense than the previous blows. He had just finished me off. I no longer saw anything, I no longer felt anything. The pain had vanished in an instant. It was cold, I was scared. [...] While I was sleeping. something strange happened. As if the missing part of my soul was repairing itself. When I woke up, I no longer had any pain anywhere. But I'm still scared, more scared than ever. I'm terrified. [...] I never want to suffer so much again. I never want anyone to suffer so much again. I have no other choice; I have to get stronger. I'm going to have to live with this fear from now on, so I might as well put it to good use."

She then starts to actually show her paranoïa in a lot of aspects of her personality :

She is INCREDIBLY quick at trading her butterfly wings for her chestplate at any potential danger. She has also shown multiple times and SAID on her sign that her inventory hotbar is the most paranoïd thing ever : Filled with totems, her weapons, regeneration 2 splash potions (that are also very likely refilled with the backpack upgrade knowing her parents)

She, after learning the codes could imperssionate them now, immediatly figured out a code to make sure she was truly herself.

The day after ElQuackity was exploded by BBH and Max and that he threatened them, Pomme asked Baghera to build another safe room 200k away from spawn as she was not feeling safe in Ninho anymore.

One other interesting thing : She is not just the only egg with two lives, she is the egg that survived the LONGEST with two lives. And two things comes out of that : The fear of losing her first life because it would cause suffering to her AND her loved ones, but ironically also that SHE would be the one that could sacrifice a life to one of her siblings, she would feel terrible if one of her siblings died instead of her "simply" losing a life and she did nothing because she was scared.

A fun (not fun) little fact is that recently this paranoïa for the other's safety has started to transform into anger : She was first scared of ElQuackity, but the second she learned that Dapper was captured by him, she was FURIOUS, Baghera had to tell her multiple times to not go after ElQuackity, and though she is most of the time very empathetic of someone's situation, she has only expressed disgust and hate towards ElQuackity since then, talking multiple times how much she wants to kill him herself. (if that's how she loses her first life : dying trying to kill ElQuackity... I don't what I would do (probably cry))

I could probably find 100 more things to say but I'm writing that in the middle of doing something else and I'm getting a headache so I'll stop there. If you can't tell this was just an excuse to talk about the egg of all time. Let's finish by the quote (that I really like) that crowns her wiki page :

"J'ai beaucoup de questions mais je suis pas sûre de vouloir connaître les réponses"

"I have many questions but I'm not sure I want to know the answers"

#qsmp #qsmp pomme

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multiversediaries · 2 years

Text

spouse

↳ you were klaus’ spouse, a marriage you both keep hidden from everyone. he adored you, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t get jealous once in a while.

klaus mikaelson x reader

warnings: jealousy, big fluff, very soft klaus!

part count: 1/1

you had married the mikaelson many, many years ago. you both decided to keep your relationship a secret, so you couldn’t be used as bait towards one another. he didn’t want you to be in danger’s way, he adores you, so much. the only ones who know are his family. you had no family left, just the mikaelsons. even then, that had never stopped kol or even elijah from threatening your life whenever they had a disagreement or an argument with klaus. you knew none of the brothers would never lay a hand on you, but even a threat towards you made klaus go insane. no one would ever hurt you. just the mention of your name in a negative way was enough to make klaus explode with rage.

keeping the secret is a bit hard at times. especially when your husband is absolutely breathtaking. it sometimes amused you how many women would throw themselves at him. it made you even happier when he rejected them all, as you were the only woman he would even want. you were the one.

however, caroline became the constant cause of your jealousy these days. you could tell she felt something towards him, but you trusted him. your husband would never hurt you, and would absolutely never, ever cheat. however, you still felt uncomfortable around her. she was gorgeous, you felt insecure around her. cause how could klaus chose you, when she looks as beautiful as that? still, you cared deeply for her. after all, you were an incredibly kind person. everyone felt safe and comfortable around you.

acting like you both disliked each other was the best part. you thought it was humorous how you’d claim to hate him in public, but jump in his arms and plant kisses along his face in private. he also loved it, but it was a bit harder for him. klaus is very possessive over what’s his. he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. he wanted everyone to know you were his, and only his.

but he couldn’t. just the thought of you being in danger drove him crazy. if something were to happen to you, klaus would lose his mind, he knew this for a fact. you were his entire life. you were the reason of his existence. he was so sure he was born just to love you.

it was a prom night. rebekah insisted on going, she had never experienced her own prom, nor a graduation. so you wanted to help her. you wanted to be by her side as she lived through them. so you agreed to attending the prom. klaus was going as well, to ensure your safely.

“do i look alright?” rebekah said, somewhat nervous as she stood in front of you. you smiled widely.

“you look gorgeous! here, i brought you this.” you said softly, taking out a corsage. rebekah gasped, looking back at you. you giggled, helping her out it in. “now you’re ready.” you said, smiling.

“thank you for this, y/n. i’ll finish my hair and meet you both downstairs.” she said, before turning around and grabbing her curling iron once again. you nodded, walking out of her room, and gently closing her door. you walked down the stairs, niklaus waiting by the very last step. he smiled at you, that smile you loved so much.

“you look exquisite, angel. absolutely bewitching.” klaus said, taking your waist into his big hands. you blushed at his words. even after years of marriage, he never failed to make you feel loved and cared for. you fixed his suit, before pecking his soft lips.

“and you, my love, look extremely charming.” you said, earning an even bigger smile from the hybrid. you truly made him the happiest. he grabbed your hand, swiftly intertwining your fingers together. he looked at your wedding ring and smiled. you both had never taken it off. i mean, you couldn’t. you both made your wedding rings daylight ones as well. best decision ever. he kissed your hand, before planting another kiss to your lips.

“ready to hate me yet another day, love?” niklaus asked, making you giggle a bit. you nodded, looking up at him. you heard rebekah walking down the stairs towards you.

“let’s be on our way, then!” she said, excited.

===========

the loud music could be heard from outside the school. what were you getting yourself into? you weren’t a big party girl, but you wanted to do this for rebekah. she deserved this. you watched her smile grow even bigger than before as she walked through the doors of the gym, making your heart flutter. you loved watching her happy. you smiled at her, klaus walking away from you both, to discard any suspicion from others. you frowned a bit, missing him already.

“y/n, you came!” you heard elena say, as soon as she saw you. you grinned a bit, nodding.

“i did! you look beautiful!” you said, looking at her dress once again. she blushed a bit at your words. stefan stood behind her, his hand on her waist, and he nodded along.

“she does, doesn’t she?” he added, earning a nod from you. elena laughed, her laugh a bit inaudible, because of the music. stefan and elena soon walked away, to dance. you were alone once again. and you didn’t mind that. you had begged rebekah to make a move on matt. she really liked him, and he was a great guy. they’d be a great couple. you watched from afar as rebekah danced with matt, making you smile widely. finally the music got quieter, slow dances, thank god.

“may i have this dance, sunshine?” you heard damon salvatore say behind you. you turned around, smiling at him. you were about to turn him down, that was until you saw your husband dancing with caroline. you knew it wasn’t supposed to bother you, but it did. god, it really did. watching his hands on another woman’s waist was not a nice sight.

“why not?” you replied back, as damon grabbed your hand, leading you into the dance floor. one of his hands grabbed your waist gently, while the other held your hand. you began to dance, it had been so long since you danced like this.

“are you here alone?” damon asked, gaining your attention once again. you loved these type of questions. you never knew what to reply. you grinned a bit, nodding.

“it seems like you are too. considering elena’s with stefan.” you teased, earning a scoff from him. you laughed a bit, looking into his eyes again.

“yeah well, it will always be stefan, it seems.” he said, making you a bit sad. you frowned a bit, immediately regretting your little joke. he chuckled as he watched your expression change.

“i’m alright, sweetheart. don’t worry about it, just dance.” he said, twirling you around carefully. you smiled a bit, continuing to dance.

your eyes were always on niklaus and caroline. you felt so pathetic, being so jealous. but it was inevitable. he was smiling at her, she kept laughing and their bodies were extremely close. you just wanted to grab him and kiss him right then and there, so everyone would get the message. that he was spoken for. you felt yourself sadden a bit. the song soon ended. damon let go of your waist, and offered you something to drink.

“is alcohol included? please tell me it’s not just fruit punch.” you said, needing some sort of relief from all these jealousy you were feeling. he chuckled and looked back at you.

“do you know who you’re talking to? trust me.” he said, before walking away, to fetch you both some drinks. you walked to a less crowded spot, and continued to wait for damon.

you looked back at your husband once again. this time, caroline’s hands were on his chest. you felt your blood boil. this is something you hated about being a hybrid, how heightened your emotions were. you tried relaxing. it’s fine. you knew niklaus adores you. your thoughts were interrupted by damon, coming back with two red cups. he handed you one, and you instantly took a sip. ah, yes. bourbon, of course. you smiled at him.

“thank you. i needed something.” you said, as you saw damon laugh, nodding along.

“me too. how many dances have you been to over the years?” he asked. nice question. you started thinking. there were so many. you laughed.

“too many to count. and it’s absolutely hilarious how they play the same songs on every single one.” you said, causing a chuckle from damon, agreeing with you. you smiled, looking back at the people dancing. it was still a nice sight, watching people enjoy themselves.

“seems like klaus and caroline are really hitting it off.” damon said, pointing at them, before taking a sip from his drink. you tensed up, looking back at klaus. you bit your lip almost drawing blood when you saw caroline whispering something in his ear, her lips lingering in front of his lips. you looked down at your feet.

“yeah, seems like it.” you replied, almost dryly. he nodded. you took a big sip from your drink, you needed to get wasted, or you’d explode of jealousy.

“don’t you think they’d be a good couple? she seems to keep him in check.” he said, into your ear. that was the comment that unsettled you. keep him in check?

you started to think back on it. klaus hadn’t done anything violent ever since he met her. you felt your heart sink at the realization. she did keep him in check. she made him a better person. what did you do? you were useless. you chuckled in reply, nodding. you finished what was in your cup and looked back at damon.

“think i’ll be heading home. have fun, tell rebekah i left early if she asks.” you said, damon looking at you puzzled. you had just gotten there, only about thirty minutes ago. you started to walk away, only for damon to grab your wrist gently.

“don’t leave so soon, gorgeous. the party is only starting, we just had one drink.” he said, making you grin a bit. you shook your head, softly patting his hand.

“i’m just tired. but we’ll have plenty of other dances to get drunk together in.” you said, damon smiling widely, before letting out a small chuckle and letting go of your wrist. you walked through all the people, finally reaching the exit of the gym.

you felt so much better once you closed the doors of the gym, finally outside. you began to walk around the school halls, looking for the exit, so you could head home and rest, maybe even cry a bit. or maybe rant to elijah, he’s always a good listener. you heard the doors of the gym open, and slam, as if someone has come out as well. they might have also seen their significant other being too close with someone else, like you.

“y/n!” you heard someone say behind you. you stopped walking in the middle of the hall, and turned back. watching your husband come running towards you. he looked at you, confused.

“are we leaving already? rebekah is still dancing inside, love.” he said gently, you shook your head.

“no, i’m leaving. you both can stay. it seems like you both are enjoying yourselves.” you said, a bit bitterly. you didn’t mean to sound so mean, but god, you were jealous and somewhat mad at klaus for going along with caroline’s advances. you understand he was trying his hardest to keep your relationship hidden, but.. it hurt.

“what? no, darling. we’ll leave together then.” he said softly, his hand reaching over to hold yours, but you pulled your hand back. he looked at you, a bit shocked by your actions.

“no, niklaus. you seemed to hit it off with caroline, so please, don’t waste any more time and go back to being felt all over by her.” you said, your jealousy taking over. you bit your lip right after. regretting what you said immediately, once you saw him smirk.

“are you jealous, my love?” he asked, in a teasing manner. you rolled your eyes, before turning your back on him and continuing to walk. he grabbed your wrist, soon pushing you against the lockers and looking deeply into your eyes. you felt your heartbeat pick up as one of his hands ran towards your hip.

you looked at his lips then at his eyes. you bit your lip, you were supposed to be upset with him. yet here you were, fighting the urge to kiss him right now. a fight you soon lost. you crashed your lips into his, his hand immediately squeezing your hip. your hands went straight to his golden locks, softly pulling on his hair. you tilted your head, for more access as you kissed him roughly. both your tongues fighting for dominance. his hand smoothly ran towards your bottom, squeezing it softly. you moaned into his mouth. klaus pulled away soon after.

“easy there, precious. you’re angry, hungry.” klaus said, trying to catch his breath after such heated make out session. one of your hands ran to his cheek, your thumb caressing his red lips, your other hand stayed tangled on his locks.

“you’re mine.” you whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible. he looked into your eyes, as you stared at his beautiful lips. he lifted your head up gently.

“all yours, my love. you’re the only woman who will ever have me.” klaus said, gently, as he stared deeply into your eyes. he grabbed one of your hands and placed it on top of his heart. “do you feel that? my heart only beats for you. i’m only living because you exist.” he said, his thumb rubbing your hand in the softest way.

you somehow felt terrible for how jealous you felt. he didn’t deserve this. you trusted him. you knew he would never cheat on you. but damon’s comment had truly hurt you. you looked back up to meet his eyes.

“i don’t bring out the good in you, nik. she does.” you said, looking back down at the floor. he almost chuckled at your words.

“my beloved. you bring out the absolute best in me.” he started, placing strands of your hair behind your ear. you looked back up at him. “you have never tried changing who i am. instead you have embraced me, and adored me when no one else has.” he whispered softly. you felt your eyes water at his words. how could you question the impact you have on him? it almost felt like an insult to him.

“i am nothing without you. your love has made me a better man. have you not noticed?” klaus asked, his hands cupping your cheeks. “ever since i met you, flowers started blooming on my dark and rotten garden. my love, there’s no reason for you to be envious of any other woman. i am only yours as you are mine.” klaus said, trying his hardest to convey his feelings through words.

“i love you.” you managed to say, trying your hardest to not break down crying in front of your incredibly loving husband. he smiled, knowing his words had reached you. no one would ever believe klaus could be this soft. but he was, only with you.

“and i love you. more than all the days and nights. deeper than the oceans and skies. don’t ever doubt that.” klaus said softly, planting a loving kiss on your forehead. you smiled, a few tears finally leaving your eyes.

“now, precious, as much as i enjoy watching you be jealous, i don’t ever want you doubting your worth or my love for you, alright?” he said, your head nodding. “because if anything, i am the one who does not deserve you.” he finished, your hands softly hitting his chest.

“stop, nik. i would like to stop crying some time now.” you said, earning a soft laugh from him. you giggled along. his hands lifting up your head once again to meet his eyes.

“from now on, i will not hide my love for you.” he said gently. “and i’d like to apologize for even making you doubt yourself like this. i was simply going along with it, and i shouldn’t have. i apologize.” he said, sincerely looking into your gorgeous eyes. you shook your head.

“it’s alright, nik. i was just stupidly jealous. happens when you have a heart stopping husband.” you said, shrugging your shoulders softly. he blushed a bit at your words.

“now, why don’t we head home and you can continue kissing me like you were just now?” klaus said, leaving a kiss on your lips. you blushed, hiding your face into his chest for a quick moment, before he reached out for your hand, intertwining your fingers once again, ready to head home, with you.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikealson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #the originals #tvd #tvd klaus #klaus x reader #mikaelson family x reader #niklaus x reader

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writeroutoftime · 10 months

Text

speak now

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: when peter is getting married, you just want to go and make sure he's happy. but what happens when the officiant asks a very pertinent question?

warnings: none

words: 1.8k

a/n: this is an idea I've had forever, but in honor of taylor's version of the 'speak now' album, I finally finished it! please enjoy!

oOoOo

Leaning against Michelle’s kitchen counter, you glanced down at her pile of mail and noticed a thick, glossy card sticking out. “What’s this?” you asked curiously, moving forward to pull the card out from the pile.

Before you could, Michelle’s hand reached out and snatched the card. “It’s nothing.” she told you, rather unconvincingly.

“Alright.” you conceded, looking the other way before darting your hand out to grab the card from MJ’s unsuspecting hands. “Let go!” you shouted, wrestling the paper into your grasp, letting out a triumphant shout when you won the struggle.

Looking down at the card, your eyes scanned the cursive lettering, quickly noticing it was an invitation, suddenly freezing in your spot. The longer you stared at the invitation, the more you thought your heart was going to break out of your chest with how erratically it was beating. Tears welled in your eyes, yet you did nothing to keep them at bay.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Peter Benjamin Parker and Regina Ann Thompson on August 15, 2023

“y/n.” MJ began, approaching you cautiously, arms open and eyes cast down in pity.

“He’s getting married.” you whispered, more so to yourself than anyone else. “When did you get this?” you asked, spinning around to face your friend. “When did you get this?” you repeated, waving the invitation franticly.

“Three weeks ago.”

Three weeks ago. Definitely too long to blame the postal office for a late invitation. “So, he doesn’t want me there.” you spoke aloud, falling down into a nearby chair.

It wasn’t that you felt you deserved to be at Peter’s wedding or that it was the greatest sin of all times you weren’t invited; but you thought that after everything the two of you had been through he would have at least had the decency to call you – hell even a text would be great – to let you know he was engaged. Once upon a time, the two of you were a couple, and there was a time in your life you imagined that you would be the one to marry Peter. You were so young and in love, oblivious to the world around you and the challenges that threatened your relationship.

As one of Peter’s oldest friends, of course, you knew that he was Spider-Man. In fact, you supported him through it all, never letting it get in the way of your friendship or the feelings you had for him. Eventually, Peter wised up and asked you out, and the rest was supposed to be history. While everything was fine at first, down the road you learned how difficult it was being the significant other of a superhero.

The sweet nothings and soft gazes eventually morphed into harsh words thrown at each other in the middle of the night after long patrols for Peter and constant worrying for you. Secrets built up like skyscrapers and the trust that once existed between the two of you for so long dissolved. Eventually, you figured it was better to stop now before either of you said things you would regret, no matter how much it hurt.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, y/n. You were just starting to live again, and I don’t want you to hole yourself back up.” MJ explained, wrapping her arms around your frame.

You let her hug you, keeping your own arms limp against your side, the gears in your mind turning and turning. “Take me as your plus one.” you finally said, pulling away to look MJ in the eyes.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please MJ.” you begged. “Let me have, let this be my closure.” you continued, your mouth seemingly working faster than your mind. “I won’t even talk to him or let him know that I’m there. Please, I just want to see that he’s happy.” you cried, voice breaking at the end.

At the end of the day, even if Peter had left you with a broken heart, you just wanted to know that everything worked out for him. Even if you couldn’t be the one to give it to him, Peter deserved his happily ever after. Silently, you pleaded with MJ, your eyes glassy and desperate as she mulled the thought over.

“Fine.” she yielded. “But then that’s it, you have to get back out there and live your life.” she compromised.

“Promise.” you agreed. “He won’t even know that I’m there.”

oOoOo

Weeks later, you found yourself outside a church watching as friends and families eagerly filed in. Your eyes watched as MJ continued inside to her seat up front. She had offered to sit in the back with you, but you urged her to be there to support Peter. Besides, she would find you after the whole ceremony was over and you could make your escape.

As you waited, your leg bounced, nerves continually rolling through your body. All you wanted was a glance of Peter before the ceremony. Looking both ways with determination, you snuck into the back rooms of the church, searching for where Peter would be waiting. Before you could find him, however, you heard voices coming your way, so you slipped into the nearest empty room, pressing yourself against the wall. Sucking in a breath, you willed yourself to become invisible. But what you heard had you slowly poking your head around the corner.

“What the hell?” a voice shrieked out. “Are you able to do this, or do I need to get someone else to do your job?”

Once glance and you saw the shouts came from Peter’s bride to be – Regina- who stood in front of a trembling bridesmaid, pointing fingers widely. The dress she wore looked as though it came straight out of a bakery, and you had to hold in your laugh. The bridal party walked by the room you were hidden in, and you pushed yourself further against the wall.

A breath of relief escaped your lips, but your heart clenched immediately after. Was this who Peter was marrying? Was this who was going to make him happy for the rest of his life?

Knowing you didn’t have much time left, you hurried into the church and slipped into a pew in the very last row. It wasn’t long before the officiant came out, shortly followed by Peter.

It was like time stopped the moment your eyes landed on his figure, His dark hair gelled back for the occasion, fiddling with his sleeves as he waited. You tried to gauge his emotion – was it a happy-nervous tick or a ‘dear god someone get me out of this’ nervous tick. Before you could think on it anymore, the organ music changed and the bridal procession began as the bridesmaids walked down the aisle before everyone stood as Regina walked out.

While all heads turned towards her, yours stayed on Peter the whole time, analyzing the way he reacted to his almost wife walking towards him. A smile graced his features, but even from far away you could tell the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Was all of this a joke? Was he settling? Looking for a way out?

Your mind raced with all these thoughts as officiant droned on. But something in your heart kept calling to you. Telling you that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. Telling you that you had to do something. Even if it was a mistake, you couldn’t live with the ‘what ifs’ that would plague your mind if you stayed quiet. And so, when the officiant called out “…speak out or forever hold your peace” you knew it was your moment.

As if possessed by some unknown force, you peeled yourself off the cold pew and stood among the sea of viewers. A collective gasp rang out through the church at your action, MJ being one of the first to look at you with a ‘are you kidding me’ look on her face. But, more importantly, you caught Peter’s gaze for the first time in months.

His jaw went slack as he stared at you. It had been months since Peter allowed himself to look at you. He had tried to shove everything that happened between you both into the furthest corners of his mind, but it seemed like fate had other plans.

“What is going on?” Regina demanded, recognition in her eyes as she started you down.

Sweaty palms rested against your thighs, and you knew this was your last chance. With a deep breath, you let it all pour out. “Look, Peter, I am not the type of person who should be interrupting a wedding of all events. But I also know you. And I know that you are not the type of guy who should be marrying the wrong girl.

“This is selfish of me, I’ll admit that. And if I am completelywrong then say the word and I will walk out of those doors with a smile on my face knowing that you’re happy. Because that’s all I want for you. But if there is even a small part of you that doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, then don’t.” you practically begged, not yet finished.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Peter. I know we had our challenges, but we were also something amazing together. So, please, don’t be noble Peter Parker always wanting to do the right thing. Do what you want to do.” you told him, fighting back the tears. “And, again, I know this was awful time, but I was told to speak now, right?” you asked through a watery giggle, staring down the man you loved as if your life depended on it.

There was a heavy silence that blanketed the church over the next few moments. With each second that passed, your heart grew heavier and heavier fearing you made a terrible mistake. Finally, you accepted defeat and began to walk out of the hall. You held yourself tightly, trying not to cry until you made it outside. However, before you could reach the doors, you felt a hand grasp your wrist, spinning you around.

You let out a breathy gasp as you stood face to face with Peter, his lips only inches from yours. It was as if time stood still in that moment, and you had to bite your lip to convince yourself it wasn’t all a dream. Any words you wanted to speak got stuck in your throat, but Peter leaned close to you, his warm breath against your ear caused you to shiver.

“I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door.” he whispered, nodding ever so slightly in confirmation.

Stumbling back, you left the church and found your way to the backdoor outside, waiting nervously. Nearly 10 minutes passed when the door floor opened, and Peter stood, his tie undone, and his tuxedo jacket abandoned. His hair looked mussed as though he had been anxiously running his fingers through just as you knew he had the habit of.

“Peter.” you breathed out, reaching towards him, nervous he might disappear.

“Did you mean it?” he questioned, grasping you against him tightly.

“What?”

“Did you mean everything you said in there? Are we going to make this work? Tell me I didn’t just walk out of my wedding for nothing.” he begged, also just as scared and vulnerable as you felt.

When words were lost on you, you instead closed the distance between the two of you until your lips met his for the first time in months. Though, it was like no time had passed as you and Peter fell into a familiar rhythm, saying all the apologies and confessions you couldn’t speak aloud. Yes, there was still a lot to work through, but you were together again and that’s all that mattered.

Thank god you were around when they said speak now.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #rita writes

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