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jackrrabbit · 3 years

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One. I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then....

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left.

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact. You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues.

It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down.

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck.

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace.

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront. It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network.

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags. And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere.

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye.

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you. It just felt right.

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic.

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much.

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together.

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions.

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success.

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well.

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again.

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move.

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about.

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed.

Kevin.

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks. Chris was in a rage for a week.

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding.

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else.

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth.

Maybe you too could be friends.

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm. He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond. He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play.

-----

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him.

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris? This is Y/N. I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you.

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry. I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone. You just never believed that Chris would really move on. And you didn’t know why.

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries! Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed.

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot.

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him.

And that wink.

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed.

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off.

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology.

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging.

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin. You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped.

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option.

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend.

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics. His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy. Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered.

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance. Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set. Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over.

“What can I get you, Sir.”

“I don’t need a drink. I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party. I need it to be extra special.”

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see.

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.”

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin.

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be. You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills.

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking.

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN! WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.”

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban.

“Listen to me.. Listen. I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent. You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him. He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face. Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred. That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan. Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad. Chris was so sweet. You thought about him and you thought about Kevin.

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.” You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.

“Word?” You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand. The one you knew he jacked off with. You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm. Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again.

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.”

Then you snapped out of it.

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him.

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?” Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.”

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell.

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

You looked at Kevin, too. You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.”

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him. The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you. “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?” You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard. Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.”

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it. He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe. He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own. He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue. You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage. He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him. You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long. You pulled it out with a pop.

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X. He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more. His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.” You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City. He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.

“So you want me to feel you up?” He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you.

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass? Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game.

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too. It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult. He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down. Is it true?”

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand. Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris. Only you.. Since you and I….” Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again.

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly. He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!” Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted? You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh? You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?” He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.” Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him.

“Please!”

“I know why.”

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit. He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly.

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick. He didn’t have to move. Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him. He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?”

You searched his face. He sounded like he was about to cry. You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid. You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris. I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly. You on your knees for him again was a dream.

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you.

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you. It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought.

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give.

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet.

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you.

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done. You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.”

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor. He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know. None of that meant that we’re back together. That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?”

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own. You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.” You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove.

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees. He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body. He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you. He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

---

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.

“We’re going to Aruba?”

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching. That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.”

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower. You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog!

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Don’t Worry, Darling (one-shot)

Synopsis: Falling in love with a co-star is something that can hurt, especially when it seems like they’re talking to other people behind your back, but falling in love with a co-star and being unable to help when they’re sick, is even worse.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: COVID-19, sickness, swearing, SMUT (fingering, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

Word count: 11 968 (yoikes)

Please note I’m not trying to make light of the pandemic or the virus and those impacted by it. It’s a very real and serious thing, which is why I decided to use it. Please stay safe and healthy, follow the local health guidelines and if you have the ability please get vaccinated. Let’s keep ourselves and one another safe, frens :)

When Y/N got the call she’d gotten the role of Jack’s ex-wife who’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, she was over the moon. As a Marvel alumnus, she was excited to work with Florence, as she’d loved Midsommar, and knowing she was going to be one of the new faces carrying the next Marvel chapter, she wanted to get to know her. Having played Tony Stark’s adopted daughter since the age of six, she was very protective of the franchise but was excited to see where it’d go.

Then Shia LaBeouf, Chris Pine as well with Dakota Johnson’s announcements coming soon after, Y/N got even more stoked, and with Olivia Wilde leading all of them, she was sure the movie would be a hit.

Shia and Dakota had to drop out due to scheduling issues (which Y/N couldn’t lie – she was kind of happy Shia couldn’t do it), and that's where Harry Styles took over the role of Jack with Kiki Layne Dakota’s Margaret.

Now, when Y/N had seen Harry’s picture next to the re-cast e-mail the whole production had been sent out, she might’ve had a little (a massive, like a ginormous) freak-out. As much as she’d grown up listening to classic rock, due to Robert Downey Jr. and Iron Man, she’d been an avid One Direction fan. Like to the point, it might even seem a bit creepy. Y/N had sort of grown out of the obsessive phase of it all, but most definitely admired the solo albums they’d been able to produce, and when Dunkirk came out, she was excited to see Harry join the acting world, with the amount of talent he had.

The first table read was sort of awkward, and definitely the weirdest one, given how a pandemic had started, and everyone was at their respective homes using Zoom.

Y/N and Florence had been the first to join the conversation about half an hour before the official beginning, and by the time everyone else did, they were crying from laughter and had to excuse themselves from their computers to collect whatever remaining composure they had.

“You two alright?” Oliva Wilde had raised her eyebrow, as the women re-joined, still chuckling. “Will we have to use body doubles for the scenes you two are in?”

“No!

“Nohooo!” both of them yelled through laughter. “We’ll be as professional as professionals are. Which is very professional.”

Then Y/N made the mistake of glancing at Florence’s square, and the two busted out laughing again, spewing apologies in between, but no one seemed to really mind. In fact, it looked like they appreciated how casual and open everyone was being, hoping the set wouldn’t be stiff either when they moved onto filming.

And for the two women, it wasn’t really. Actually, they grew closer than ever. The amount of time Florence spent in Y/N’s trailer was to the point that the two started to talk about just moving in together. After scouring the nearby apartments for rent, they settled on a three-bedroom apartment, as two-bedroom ones were non-existent.

When Harry grew closer to them as well, given how he spent quite some time with both women, they suggested he move in as well.

“You know, what? I changed my mind. You’re taking away our closet, and I don't like that,” Y/N pouted, watching as Florence lifted a pile of her clothes and moved it to her room. “That’s not very ‘treat people with kindness’ of you.”

All he did was flick a finger at her forehead, which Y/N swatted away with a smile. When he’d double-checked about moving in with them (which, mind you was the seventh time, and half his stuff was already there), the two women were ecstatic. They got along amazingly on set and basically having a sleepover with friends every night suited all of them quite well.

At that moment, Y/N was sitting on the edge of her bed, knitting while Harry painted all of their toes and Florence put on facemasks.

“Wine!” Y/N suddenly exclaimed, almost knocking over the light blue nail polish bottle as she jumped up, throwing her needles back on the bed. “We need wine!”

“Do not ruin my masterpiece!” Harry hollered after her, as she waddled away on her heels, toes separated by foam and hight up in the air. She even had to manoeuvre around the carpet to avoid any hairs and fibres that could get stuck inside the still wet lacquer.

It took her a second to find a bottle all three of them could enjoy, given their tastes were so different – Y/N preferred sweet and red, and didn’t care if it was a three-dollar bottle from Target, Harry had a bit more of an expensive pallet, giving preference to something with a more of a lingering aftertaste and in the higher ranges of price point, while Florence liked rosé and white wines.

Taking two glasses in one hand and the bottle with a third glass between her fingers, she shuffled back to her room when she heard the two muttering something in low voices before Harry whispered harshly, “I’m not telling Y/N that!”

“Won’t me what?” Y/N’s question made him and Florence spring back where they’d been engaged in a heated conversation when she re-entered the room, putting the wine bottle and glasses on the nightstand.

Florence waved her off, giving her a smile, she didn’t believe in. “Nothing. Now come on, Harry will do your fingernails now, and I think it’s about time the mask came off.”

And that’s when Y/N’s heart dropped. She’d been in the industry long enough to know how fake people could be, how they could put on smiles so inviting and friendly while hiding their true intentions behind them. She just didn’t think two people she’d found so genuine and sweet would be like that.

And the thing was – it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the two whispering like that and hushing up when they saw her enter the room or even come somewhere near to them.

In the beginning, Y/N had chalked it up to the two being closer, given they had to spend more time together, so they knew one another better, but this time sort of solidified it wasn’t the fact the two were closer, it had to deal with Y/N specifically.

So, she started to distance herself. She’d had enough users in her life to last her for the rest of it. Y/N excused herself from the movie nights they had on most Fridays, she no longer joined in on the cooking sessions and mostly spent time in her room, or on work calls.

When she re-entered the flat, four weeks after their falling out, they watched as she nodded to them, and went inside her room, closing the door, much like she’d been doing for the past thirty days.

“Do you think she knows?” Harry asked, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he hoped the doors would open, yet, obviously, they didn’t.

“Well, I haven’t told her, and unless you did, then I doubt it…”

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“No, but if she’s upset maybe she needs to talk to someone.”

“Or maybe she wants to be alone.”

Harry bit his lip thinking over Florence’s words. When he was upset about something, he himself did like to kind of retreat and become a little bit of a recluse, to sort out his emotions before anyone else tried to jump in and help with it, but the thing was – Y/N’s distancing started the night when she’d walked in on the two of them arguing, and it’d been about the girl in question herself, so he shook his head. “I’ll just ask if she’s alright.”

He took a deep breath and went to enter the room he hadn’t seen in almost a month. “Hey.” Harry poked his head through Y/N’s door, making her swirl around in her chair. She looked adorable to him. She’d changed into a big fluffy nightgown, the hood up, a headband pushing hair away from her face with a green facemask covering her skin. The domestic life flashed through Harry’s head like a freight train, as it was something he craved, but pushed it away. There was no daydreaming before figuring out what was in front of him in reality. “You okay?”

“ 'M fine.” She shot him a quick smile. “Why? Did Olivia send something new for the script?”

“Um, no, ‘s just you’ve been, I dunno – detached a bit?”

“Look, Harry… I may be younger than you, but I’ve been in this industry longer than you or Florence.” Y/N stood and shrugged before crossing her arms. “And the thing is – I don’t care for shit like that. So, you two can gossip and whisper and talk whatever you want about me behind my back. Everyone else is doing that so, you’re not that special. But’ I’d prefer if you did it somewhere else besides my room, my space, and I’ll say this once, but very clearly – we’re not friends. I don’t need friends like you. We’ll be civil and we’ll do our jobs, but…” Harry’s heart broke at her eyes, seeing the pain in them as she nodded and made sure he understood where she stood. “We’re not friends.”

She didn’t leave any room for argument. When Harry left, Y/N didn’t even look over her shoulder to see him exit.

The next couple of mornings she didn’t see them leave nor come back, seeing as Y/N had the week off from filming, but the morning of the seventh day was awkward as hell, given how all of them had to go and get tested, and well, they had their allocated time slots one after the other. Usually, they’d take one car together, but this time, Y/N drove off on her own, while Harry and Florence carpooled on their own.

The tests were always nerve-wracking. If one person went down, the whole production did for at least two weeks. And as much as she hated going in alone, she was glad no one was with her in the car, because as she stepped out, a certain notion swept over her that this would be a lot different than usual.

A doctor dressed head to toe in protective gear motioned for her to sit down, as another processed her ID and work ID. Her leg was bouncing up and down the whole time, and he eyed her. If she could see his lips, she was sure they’d be pursed. “Anything wrong?” He handed her back the IDs before moving to the table where a set of large q-tips seemed to lay in sterile packs.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip and nodded. “Woke up with a sore throat and a small cough appeared on my way here as well. I wiped and cleaned everything down at the apartment I’m staying at and wore gloves and a mask the whole time.”

“Anything else?” the doctor asked, writing down each word as Y/N said. “The feeling of breaking bones, fever, muscle pain, eyes hurting when you look up, lost sense of smell or taste?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a sore throat and a small cough.”

The doctor let out a large sigh, probably from having to wear a full-on hazmat suit. “Alright. Just for safety reasons, so we know who’s a potential contact person, who are you staying with?”

“Florence Pugh and Harry Styles. We’re renting an apartment together.”

“Do you know if they’ve had any symptoms?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head honestly. “And I haven’t really interacted with them this past week, as they’ve been on set, and I didn’t have any scenes to film, and by the time they get back, I’m already asleep, and I’m still asleep when they leave so there’s been no direct contact. We have our own kitchenware, so there shouldn’t be any direct contact. I think.”

That last bit was half-true, seeing as she hadn’t been asleep when they came back, but she might as well have been. The second Y/N heard the door click, she’d place her headphones on or leave the room, only glimpsing the two faces falling as she did that.

The doctor clearing his throat and motioning for Y/N to open her mouth so he could take a swab and then to do the same for both her nostrils, was what brought her out of it. She was so used to it, it was like nothing at that point. “Okay. We’ll need you to stay in the car while the test is being run, and if it comes back positive, you’ll be placed in a separate flat, as to not endanger the rest.”

Her ‘alright’ was barely audible. Fuck. It just felt like the universe was against her. First, the two people she’d gotten closest to were whispering behind her back and being fake to her face, now she might have a super contagious virus to which there was no medicine really, nor was there a vaccine, let alone the thought she’d have to miss filming for potentially more than two weeks.

The thirty minutes of wait were agonizing, her leg bouncing up and down. Y/N’s eyes kept watching the line of cars slowly move forward through the tent and then settle behind hers. She knew Harry was about five cars away, and she was glad he wasn’t closer. They weren’t really allowed to get out of their vehicles while the tests were being run, and Y/N didn’t think she’d be able to not look back at him through her review mirror.

Two more minutes passed when finally, one of the med students in the full hazmat suit came up and knocked on her car window.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“ID please.” It was standard so that no med info got leaked. The only reason she had to rummage through her stuff was, because she’d bite the little plastic card in half if she didn’t throw it somewhere deep inside her bag.

“So.” The man sighed, and he didn’t need to elaborate. Y/N understood, but still, he had to confirm it to her. “Your test came back positive for COVID-19. The production has been informed, and for safety reasons, everyone will have to self-isolate for two weeks.”

Y/N’s head slammed against the back of the seat. “Fuck. Okay.”

“Because so far, you’re the only positive case, you’ll be placed into quarantine. We’ll need the address you’re staying at, and if you need anything from your apartment, we can send someone over to grab a few things. You’ll have to follow the black SUV right there.” He pointed further down the lot where indeed a black SUV stood. “They’ll take you to where the quarantine apartments are. Is there anything immediate you’ll need?”

“I – uh – I need my pills, my birth control that is. I take it every evening. Computer, chargers. That’s the most immediate I can think of. Maybe some food? I didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast.”

Even through the mask, Y/N could see the man smile. “Well arrange that. In the meantime, here’s the number for the coordinators who’ll get you the rest of your things and deliver them to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll call my assistant, and she’ll drive down to the apartment. She knows where everything is.”

“Have you been in close contact with her?”

“Just through the phone. She hasn’t been on set in almost a month, as I told her only to come when it’s an emergency… Guess this is it.” Y/N let out an awkward chuckle.

And truly that was it. With one last motion as to where the SUV stood, she started back up the engine, reversed out of the spot and followed the car to where the ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ production had set up a few quarantine apartments, specifically for actors and crew, speed-dialling her assistant Anna and letting her know of the situation.

“Shit, girl,” she’d cursed. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay,” Anna huffed. “Do you have a spare key for the apartment by any case or do I need to go down to the lot and ask Harry or Florence?”

“Both of them will be at the apartment, given how everything’s shut down, so they should be able to open the door for you. Hopefully, if both of them are negative. If not, call me, I’ll tell you where we hide the spare. Thank you, Anna.”

“Of course.”

As Y/N pulled up behind the SUV, a man and a woman in face guards and masks stepped out. She ended the call and stepped out as well, pulling on a cloth face mask, an envelope in their hands, which they handed to her.

“Your flat’s on the third floor, 367. When you have the list of things you need, forward them to us, and we’ll gather your things.”

Y/N nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

With a sigh, she took her bag and entered the complex. As much as she’d only had a small cough in the morning and a sore throat, walking up those flights of stairs made her winded more than it usually would. Maybe it was the knowledge she had a sickness, or maybe it was stress about missing work and putting everyone on lockdown, or maybe it was the combination of it all with her falling out with Harry and Florence on top.

She placed the key in the lock and twisted, revealing a studio type apartment, and it was so bare it made her heart clench. As much as she felt awkward being around Florence and Harry, their flat was a bit messy, had little pieces of clothing thrown around, giant knitted blankets on the sofas, a candle always lit whenever someone was home. Harry’s shoes were typically all over the place while Y/N’s make up was scattered around everywhere. Literally. Florence and Harry had gotten back early one morning from a night shoot and found her looking under the sofas for one of her lash glues as she started to get ready for the day. They’d made that flat their home for the time being. This… this was nothing like that.

She threw the keys on the small kitchen counter and shrugged off her jacket. They was going to be a long two weeks. At best.

***

Back at their place, Florence and Harry were pacing around, having heard the news that someone was positive, and everything had to shut down for the time being, yet Y/N was nowhere to be seen when a knock at the door disrupted them.

Harry was there and flinging it open in a matter of a second, only to be stopped by Anna instead of Y/N.

“Hey.” His brows furrowed as she and two people all wearing masks and gloves entered. “What’s going on? Is Y/N alright?”

Anna sighed, nodding her head for the two strangers to go towards the woman’s room. “She was the one who tested positive for the virus. Gave me a list of the things she’d need while in quarantine. We’re here to pick ‘em up and get them to her.”

“And she’s not doing that here?”

“Per the safety instructions, she’s been placed in a separate flat in self-isolation.”

“She could’ve done that here. We’d be fine with it,” Florence butted in, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re more than willing to take care of her. She’ll need someone to help her.”

“You both tested negative.” One of the people piped up, carrying a box of books and yarn. “I’m sorry, but she’ll have to quarantine separately until she’s no longer infected. She’s under the supervision of doctors, and she knows if an emergency happens, they’ll be there in ten minutes tops. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

Harry sighed, nodding as the people exited their place, but before Anna could leave, he took hold of her bicep. “Hey, can you please tell her to call me? I just wanna talk.”

“I uh – ” Anna furrowed her brows, showing Harry that Y/N hadn’t said anything to her about the falling out they’d had. “I’ll uh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

With that he was left to close the door and just wait for… anything.

***

In the two hours Y/N had spent in the apartment, she already felt like going insane, having been left alone with her thoughts, so how she was going to do another two weeks after finally getting back into the rhythm of work was beyond her. She didn’t have any of her knitting supplies, didn’t have any of her books (yet), and most likely there was no reason to look at her script anymore, as she’d made up her mind about a lot of things.

There was a knock at the door, and Y/N instantly had a mask on her face and gloves on her hands. She peeped through the peephole and when she saw boxes lined in the hallway, three people in masks and faceguards at least six feet away, only then did she open the door and give them a wave.

“Everything should be here, but if you need anything else just pop me a message.” Anna then pointed at a bag that sat atop everything. “There are the most important things, so you don’t have to rummage through everything and a pizza is on the way while I do some grocery shopping for you. And umm, there’s a paper you need to sing that you know you need to be in self-isolation and that you understand what happens if you’re not.”

Y/N hoped all of them understood she was smiling underneath the mask, grateful for having them help her out like that. “Thank you. So much.”

She rushed inside found a pen and signed it, moving between the boxes to place the papers on the stairs so that they could be safely retrieved. With that, the two assigned people left, leaving Anna to say goodbye.

“Call me.” She pointed at Y/N. “No matter what, even if you just wanna talk for five seconds.”

“Will do.” Y/N nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “If I could, I’d hug you.”

Anna sighed, cocking her head. “Same. And umm, Harry told me to ask you to call him.”

“Yeah, uh thank you.” She knew he probably wanted to talk, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but it still made her stumble on her words. “Take care, Anna.”

“You too.”

***

The next two days Y/N spent worrying as to how to present her decisions to the cast and crew. She felt worse with every hour, and with that had come her thought process, but as much as everyone was going to be impacted by what she was going to do, Olivia would be the one dealing with it most, so later that night she hopped on a Zoom call with her director.

“Hey, girl.” Olivia gave her a warm smile, and Y/N almost melted. God, she loved that woman. She was like the older sister she never had. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. Feelin’ kind of woozy from time to time, throat’s killing me, and I’m fairly certain I’m getting abs from how much I’m coughing.” That made both of them chuckle before Y/N bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. “Look,” she sighed, looking at Olivia. “The reason I called you is that umm… well, I think it’d be a lot more cost-effective for you to re-cast me. We’ve barely shot one scene with me. I’ll be out of commission for two weeks, as a minimum. It could get worse. And I’m definitely not going to be back before I get two negative consecutive tests.”

Olivia shook her head, running down her hands over her face and then through her hair. “Y/N, I really don’t want to do this. There’s a reason we cast you. You’re amazing, and yours and Harry’s chemistry is off the charts. We’re all quarantining for two weeks, and I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time, back on set and killing it like you always do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course, I do! Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“All I’m saying it could take up to a month to get those two negative tests. By that point, you could’ve shot at least a fourth of my scenes. Olivia…” Y/N gave her a small, sad smile. “I know you know I’m right. I hate to pass on this, but I won’t hinder the production. If you want my input, I’ll help with the re-casting, if it takes the guilt away.”

“I still feel like shit this is an option we even have to consider.”

“’S not your fault. You didn’t get me sick. We should be happy it’s just me, not someone else or more than one person.”

***

For two more days, it was radio silence from Y/N, and Harry and Florence were anxious messes. If they could distract themselves from the falling out while on set, then now, having to be cooped up inside the apartment with pretty much nothing to do, was so much worse, not to mention Y/N declined all of their calls and left their messages on read, leaving the only option for checking in either through Anna or what she decided to share on her social media, which wasn’t a lot. But the thing was, Harry knew his best bet was to call Y/N in the middle of the night. Disorientated and barely awake, she probably wouldn’t look at the caller ID once. And he was right.

A bleary face appeared on his screen, eyes squinting as she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. “Hello?” Her voice was scratchy, and Harry’s heart clenched at just how much pain her throat must be in, let alone how she was feeling as a whole.

“Hey, there, lovie.”

It took her a second to comprehend the person who was speaking, and she’d be lying if she said hearing Harry’s voice didn’t bring her some sort of joy. “Hey, H. Are you alright? Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you.”

Y/N hummed, rolling on her side, and immediately regretting it as the action elicited a coughing fit. “Yeah?” she asked hoarsely. “ ’Nd what about me?”

‘How shitty I feel about everything’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m so fucking terrified’, but instead he asked, “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” Y/N croaked out before her body was racked with coughs once more. Harry’s own chest hurt just hearing them. “Fever’s finally down, so I’m getting some sort of sleep. Throat’s killing me though, and they’ve hooked me up to an IV. They’ll be coming in two hours or so to change the bag. How are you?” she asked quietly. “How’s Florence?”

“She’s alright. Upset. Just like I am.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Why’re you upset?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re sick, alone in quarantine and… and we can’t help you. I can’t help you.”

A genuine chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t know you had a medical degree, Styles. Could be my personal nurse. Fetch me my water and shit.”

“No, but at least I’d like to be there for you.”

“Harry…”

“I like you,” he said after taking a deep breath, hoping that the break he’d heard in Y/N’s voice as she’d said his name wasn’t just because of the sickness, but because her heart thudded just as fast as his when he thought of them together, that her mind reeled with the possibilities of where their futures could take them and that whenever they touched, she could feel the electricity that ran through his fingertips, igniting his whole body. “That’s what Florence and I were whispering about all the time. Is that I’m madly crushing on you, and I couldn’t gather the courage to say it to you.”

A strong coughing fit made her drop the phone on the bed and lean over, as she gasped for breath, and through it all, all Harry wanted was to be there. Fuck him possibly getting the virus, as long as he could make it easier for her in some way.

“ ’M sorry,” Y/N whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible as to not aggravate her throat. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologise. You’re sick, you can’t help –”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I assumed you and Florence were talking bad behind my back. I never should’ve done that. And this is not an excuse, I’m not trying to shift the blame from being in the wrong, but I like you too.” She gave him a shy grin that he thought was as bright as the sun. “I really like you too, Harry. I think that’s why it hurt so much to hear you two whispering ‘bout something. And thinking it was about me, and it was something bad, hurt even more, ‘cause I really connected with Flo, and I kinda, well I kind of fell for you. Hard.”

“You did?” His tone was like he didn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

“Yeah. A lot actually… I – I really like you, Harry.”

He couldn’t explain how his heart expanded in his chest while simultaneously was being crushed by his inability to help, by the distance between them, while the hope that glimmered in his eyes at Y/N’s words made her heart break as much as his was, when he asked, “So you won’t resign?”

“Harry,” Y/N made her voice as tough as it could sound with her condition. “I told them to re-cast me not because of you. I’ve been on enough sets and worked with enough pricks, and still gotten the job done. Genuinely, this is not because of you or Florence. I just – I just don’t want to hold up production. You’ll all be out in what – twelve days or something? I’ll be here for at least twice that, if everything goes the way it’s going right now.”

“I don’t want anyone else to play Larie. You are my Larie,” he muttered, which made Y/N smile, but in a true Y/N fashion she just wanted to make others feel better.

“You do know Jack murders Larie in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s mouth opened like a fishes’ while Y/N’s mouth pulled up in a grin. “That’s – that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

Both of them were laughing now, all tension having evaporated.

“I know.” She bit on her lower lip. “But um… we’ve gotta be practical. I sent Olivia my resignation letter already, and she signed.”

She saw Harry sigh and throw back his head at her words.

“ ’M sorry, Haz. I didn’t want to but –”

“I know.” His smile was gentle, understanding. “You always put everyone before yourself. God, this just sucks major ass.”

“Trust me,” Y/N started before being interrupted by another major coughing fit. “I –,” she took in a breath. “I know.”

Her heart cracked seeing Harry’s face and his green eyes, the eyes she’d gotten lost in more times than she’d ever admitted being lined by tears. “I wish I could help you.”

“But you are. Just by – by talking to me, by keeping my mind off things. You’re helping me more than you’ll ever know.”

“When you get out, I’m taking you on a date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. For the first time in a while, she felt good, despite being sick. “Is that a threat, Styles?”

“It’s a fucking promise.”

That night she fell asleep listening to Harry talking, seeing as it became harder and harder for her to do so, so he just took over, telling her stories that lulled her to dreamland where he was there, and she could touch him.

The following days she also had calls with Florence and the rest of her cast to explain the situation, but she wasn’t doing much talking anymore, and one night they’d even seen her almost throw up from coughing so much, which broke everyone’s hearts. They were lucky the only Covid case before Y/N had been a light one, so witnessing just how brutal it could be, made everyone appreciate what they had, but at the same time, feel as helpless as ever.

A week and a half in, that was when shit really hit the fan. Despite her feeling shitty the previous days, now Y/N woke up from the feeling as if she was drowning. She’d fallen asleep while talking with Harry on FaceTime, his features illuminated on her phone. At first, she thought it was just her dream still lingering and causing that effect, but when after a minute or so her lungs still remained on fire, she knew she had to dial the doctors.

In five minutes’ time, an ambulance was at her door, and it was a miracle she’d been able to get out of bed to open it because the second she did, her whole body pretty much collapsed into the arms of one of the nurses.

***

“Come on,” Harry muttered into the phone, pulling on a pair of trousers as quickly as possible and a knitted sweater he took from the floor as he immediately tried to redial her, having heard the call drop. “Come on! Pick up, Y/N!” Her voicemail answered instead.

“Damn it!”

It took Harry seven minutes with the way he was driving to get to her assigned isolation place, only to be greeted by red and blue flashing lights, an ambulance right in front of the entrance, and it took Harry five seconds to feel his heart drop as a team of three doctors wheeled out a gurney on which lay Y/N, face covered in a mask, an IV stuck inside her arm while a huge plastic cover domed over her body.

Without even thinking about himself or his safety, Harry jumped out of his car, rushing towards the ambulance.

“Sir.” One of the doctors extended a palm towards him, keeping him back as Harry tried to get towards the inside of the car. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

“Is that Y/N?” Harry felt like he was spinning out of control, and his mind was dizzy from not being able to take in a proper breath. “Is – is that Y/N?”

“Are you family?”

“I –,” Harry so desperately wanted to say yes, to say he was her boyfriend at least, but he couldn’t lie. “No, I’m just her collegue – friend! I’m her friend. Is she alright?”

“Okay, well is there anyone we can contact from her family?”

Harry nodded, knowing that her mum and dad were on her emergency contact lists. “But her family is out of the country, and they won’t be able to fly out with all the restrictions in place.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed before looking back inside the car. In a way, Harry was happy he couldn’t see Y/N because he was sure if he did, he’d completely break down and crumble to the ground. “We’ll contact her parents, but if you could leave us your number as an emergency contact on place that’d be a lot of help.”

“Okay, uh…” Harry took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and then let it out before reciting the number he used while in the USA and his permanent UK number as well, so he could be reachable anywhere and at any point in day or night, no matter the time.

“Well keep you up to date.”

And with that, the ambulance doors shut, and they rushed away, the vailing of sirens echoing in the dark night, leaving Harry with a hand in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and without a clue as to what to do.

***

In the end, Harry had gone back to his car and cried for what felt like ages, but instead, it was just twenty minutes. He pulled himself together but was still shaking as he made his way back to the flat where Florence basically ripped open the door. Seeing his face told her everything she needed to know.

“She’ll be alright,” the woman muttered as she soothed Harry by rubbing a palm up and down his back, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. “It’s Y/N. She’d pull through an atomic bomb.”

They spent the rest of the night and the following day on the couch, glued to Harry’s phone waiting for any sort of updates. From time to time a text message came from the hospital letting them know what procedures were being done on Y/N, that her parents have been informed, and if necessary, they’d allowed Harry to be the main contact person because of his proximity to their daughter.

Three days later and the quarantine for the rest of the cast and crew ended, yet when they returned to the set, everyone was in low spirits. Especially, Harry – he was miserable. Every moment spent not reciting lines or acting was occupied with the thoughts of Y/N, how she was doing, was she improving, was she still breathing, how he wanted to just ditch everything and run to her, to help in whatever way he could.

“This sucks,” Florence grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as they took a break while re-setting already in for the fifth day of filming, eight since Y/N’d been in the hospital. “Can’t believe they won’t allow a phone in with her.”

“It’s the same policy for everyone, but trust me,” Harry sighed and looked up at the bright blue sunny sky above. “The number of times I got out of my bed in the middle of the night and had the car keys in hand is ridiculous. And the number of times I’ve thought about breaking into that hospital is even more concerning.”

Florence let out a small chuckle and nudged his shoulder. “I’d cover for you if you did. As long as she doesn’t have to be there alone.” She hung her head, blond strands falling down to curtain her face. “Can’t imagine how scared she must be.”

Harry just sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could say.

Something vibrated in his pocket, but he no longer furrowed his brows when unknown numbers called, knowing it was from the hospital. It was nerve-wracking though to pick up the call each time because he had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of bad news, even though he always hoped for good ones.

“Yes, hi. Hello. I – oh,” he put a hand over his mouth and sagged down onto a chair. “Oh, thank god, thank you, doctor. Yeah. Yes, I’ll let her know, and someone will be there to open the flat. Thank you again. For everything.”

He took away the phone from his ear and stared at the ground for a minute before leaping up and hugging Florence, laughter escaping his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s the opposite. Y/N’s out of the hospital.”

“Oh thank god!” Her hands flew to hug him back.

“She’ll have to stay in self-isolation until the two negative tests and will be monitored by the doctors, but she’s out.”

Immediately he was dialling her, and Harry had never been as happy for the invention of a video call, because when he saw Y/N’s face light up the screen, as tired as she looked, it was the most beautiful sight that graced his eyes.

“Hey, lovie.” His voice was soft and low as if anything louder would worsen her state.

Her ‘hey’ was barely audible, but he heard it, and it made the weight of a boulder drop off his shoulders.

“I’m so – I mean we all are so happy you’re back home.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I missed you. Missed everyone, but most of all I missed you.”

Harry was happy they were separated by a screen because if she was anywhere in a five-mile radius, he was sure she would be able to hear his heart beat out of his ribcage at her words. “How are you feeling?”

“ ‘M alright,” Y/N tried to let him know. “Very tired.”

“Then get back to sleep, lovie.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wanna talk to you.”

“I’ll keep talking,” Harry promised. “Like we did before, okay.”

“Okay…”

And so, he did. He kept talking as Y/N listened, and he watched as her eyes slowly closed before she drifted off to sleep. Even though Harry had to go back to filming, he didn’t dare end the call. He’d never end the call.

***

It took a month and a half for Y/N to get those two consecutive negative tests, to feel somewhat human again and when she did, she probably garnered at least seven speeding tickets with how fast she was driving down to the set.

It was the most inconspicuous outfit she could scramble together, consisting of a hoodie and baseball cap, as she watched Harry as Jack lean down to peck the actress’s lips, then step into the vintage car and rev out in the driveway, while a dishevelled Florence started the scene from the side, eyes racking over Jack’s first wife, who was dressed the exact same way, hair styled like hers and even nails painted the same, her character putting all the puzzle pieces together.

“And cut!” Olivia yelled across the lot, nudging Y/N’s side and giving her a smirk. “He’s gonna freak. You’re all he’s been talking about on set. We almost had to put a ban on you as a topic,” she muttered that part so only the woman could hear while telling everyone to re-set, so they could do the scene from another angle, but not before asking the three actors to come and look at the monitors so they could understand how to move in order to keep the continuity.

Y/N moved to the side, ducking her head down as Harry, Florence and Mandy, the actress that took over her role, all leaned closer to watch the monitors. Y/N had to bite on her lip to keep the grin away, as all of them analysed their movements and the scene, nodding along to what Olivia was saying.

“Y/L/N, what do you think?” Olivia asked, grinning.

Y/N stepped forward a bit, seeing all of their shocked faces through her peripheral, as she pointed to the screen, lifting her head so that everyone could see her face fully. “I think it’s great, you might want to step to the side a bit more, Harry, when –” but she was unable to finish the sentence as he swooped her in his arms, lifting her basically off the ground, and burying his face in her neck.

“Watch the hair! Daniele will have a fit if you ruin her masterpiece!” Y/N laughed, holding one of her hands on the base of his neck, the other tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but he just shook his head, and she could feel tears splash her skin.

“Fuck the hair!” He let out a small chuckle, and she could hear the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you so much. I was so scared.”

“Same,” Y/N whispered. “Missed you like crazy. And your stupid, unfunny dad jokes.”

“ ‘M hilarious, lovie, what are you talking about?”

He finally set her down but didn’t let go of her waist, and she smiled cupping his cheeks. “A true comedian, that’s what you are.”

“I know. Why’dya think I got that SNL slot?”

But his eyes, as he gazed into hers once more glassed over.

“Hey,” Y/N cooed wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and we’re both gonna be crying messes, and then these guys will have to deal with that.”

Harry sighed, leaning into her touch. “Happy tears, lovie. All happy tears.”

The two looked at one another as if there was no one else in the universe. And for the two of them, there really wasn’t. Neither had to say what was on their minds, they already knew.

His face was inching closer to Y/N’s, and heart started to beat erratically, not that Harry minded, as his palm rested in the middle of her back. In fact, his own heart mimicked the rhythm, but it stuttered when someone behind him cleared their throat and interrupted their moment.

Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest as he sighed at Olivia’s raised eyebrow.

“You’ll be able to smooch as much as you want, but we need him in hair and make-up.”

“Oli-“

“Now,” she let out a small laugh. “Before Daniele removes my head from my shoulders.”

“Go,” Y/N patted his side. “I’ll still be here.”

“Is that a threat?”

She grinned up at him. “A fucking promise.”

Harry dashed away like lightning, hoping that the quicker he was done, the sooner he could have Y/N back in his arms even if it was for a second, but her attention was taken by a woman with long blond curls, a flowing green slip on her figure; her steps unsure as was the wave she gave her, but Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of her.

“Hey, Flo,” she whispered and brought the girl in a bone-crushing hug, holding onto her, trying to convey how much she regretted her words and actions, especially because they were unwarranted.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

“Me too.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“And I should’ve made sure Harry pulled his head out of his ass.”

That made both of them laugh, and it was nice to do it not only without having to cough up her insides, but to do it with someone she’d connected with and had become great friends with.

“He did that. I just hope if he wants to make another move, it won’t take me dying to push him to.”

Florence pointed at her, a serious look on her face. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.”

A small noise of someone clearing their throat from behind Y/N took both of their attentions for them to go onto the actress who’d been cast as her replacement, the woman coming forward and extending her hand for a handshake with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Mandy.”

“ ‘S very nice to meet you.” Y/N tried to give off as open and accepting of a vibe as much as possible, because she genuinely wanted Mandy to feel respected and that she wasn’t a threat. “Before you think anything if you’re worried about me taking the role, don’t. It’s all yours, so don’t worry about that. I just stopped by ‘cause I hadn’t seen anyone in almost two months. Never thought I’d say this, but fuck did I missed people.”

Mandy shook her head, her smile a lot lighter and brighter now. “I – uh thank you for that actually. I’m a huge fan of yours, and well, can only try and live up to what you would’ve portrayed.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll absolutely kill it, and I can’t wait for the movie.”

It was great to see Mandy’s shoulders drop in relief. “Would it be too much if I asked for advice on the role?”

“No,” Y/N laughed. “But I would say that you should make this role your own. It is yours. You are Larie now. And Harry’s Jack. Make it yours.”

As she said that, she turned to watch Harry who was practically bouncing on his feet, green eyes flitting back to where she was standing, and when their gazes met, neither could help the smiles blooming on their faces.

“You know he messed up a scene once and said your name?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked over at Mandy. “What do you mean ‘said my name’?”

“It was a kissing scene. The wedding bit, actually. As Jack and Larie recited their vows, and he leans down to kiss her, he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll love you Larie, until the very end’. He said your name instead.”

That hit Y/N more than a semi-truck wheeling a ton of bricks would. Yes, she knew Harry liked her, and he knew she liked him, but love was a big word, and for him to admit that, whether it was a flub or not, was even bigger.

Harry was a private person. While he openly talked about what he felt, he guarded heart at the same time, much like Y/N did. But she had to wait until Olivia yelled cut for the day, and had to watch him make a mad dash for hair and make-up before running to the dressing trailer as he didn’t want to miss out on a second he could spend with her. Even as they walked up to their shared flat and he opened the door, his fingers stayed intertwined with hers.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Kinda shitty, honestly,” Y/N laughed throwing the keys to the table and shrugging out of the jacket and taking off the cap, Harry immediately helping her and putting it on one of the racks. “I’ll have to move out, now that I’m not part of the movie.”

“Why? ‘S not like the production is paying our rent, we’re doing it out of our own pocket.”

“Yes, but now that I don’t have a job, I kinda need to look for one.”

“And what says that you can’t live here while you do that?”

“I –,” Y/N’s brows furrowed. “I mean nothing, really… I just… kinda thought because I’m not part of the movie anymore it’d be safer if I found my own place. But um… I think I have something else I’d like to talk about. Mandy,” Y/N dragged out her name a bit, a sly smirk appearing on her face, “told me you had a flub on set.”

Harry’s heart was pounding underneath her palm where she’d grabbed onto the lapels of his dress shirt, so he couldn’t run away.

“I’ve uh,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a couple of flubs on set. Who hasn’t?”

“I don’t doubt that. But she said you misspoke a name.”

She made him look into her eyes and wouldn’t dare let their gaze break. “You said my name during the wedding scene. You said Y/N. Not Larie.”

Harry looked like a cross between a deer in headlights and a fish out of the water, eyes wide with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out, which made Y/N worry a bit.

She placed a palm against his cheek. “Harry? You alright?”

“I – I meant it.” He let out a deep sigh and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. “And when I thought back on it, I don’t remember seeing her face or Larie’s face. It was yours. And the lips I was kissing belonged to you too. I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine. And I know it’s way too quick, for a wedding -”

“Unless you threaten me with it –”

“I –,” Harry stuttered before laughing, all tension evaporating from his body. “No, that I don’t want to be a threat. That will be a question asked with love and hopefully an answer given to it the same way.”

Y/N nudged his nose with hers. “Well, we’ll see. I mean if you don’t kiss me what makes you th–,”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before his lips were on hers, pressing with such gentleness, it made her weak at the knees, and she would’ve crumbled if Harry’s arms handn’t woven around her middle, fingers pressing into the sides, the pressure increasing with each second their mouths were connected.

Harry’s hand drifted up Y/N’s back and settled on her neck as if he could pull her any closer, her own palms slipping over his stomach, pecks and grabbing onto his jaw, fingers lightly scratching at the stubble that’d grown throughout the day. He had to shave every morning for the role of Jack, but each evening she’d see a small, darkened shadow across his skin, and Y/N would be lying that when she’d realised her attraction to him, she hadn’t thought about how delicious it would feel to have it leave small burn marks on the inside of her thighs.

Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs, trying to create some sort of friction which became more and more unbearable as she felt Harry moan into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her lower lip, asking for permission without words, which Y/N granted without a second to spare.

It was heavenly to have him so close to her. She did wonder if the sensation was intensified by the fact, she hadn’t been able to touch anyone properly for almost two months, but that thought vanished when his fingers skimmed underneath her hoodie, brushing against her heated skin. No. It was because it was Harry.

“I –,” he was breathless as he pulled away, but Y/N didn’t let him get too far, her lips attaching themselves to his neck, making him groan in pleasure. “I don’t want to push this too far.”

Her brows scrunched up, as she took a look at him. “What do you mean? If you think I don’t want this, then let me be perfectly clear – I do. A lot.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking glad you do, but… Y/N you just got out of the hospital, where you were on a ventilator. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Not your choice to make.” A devious smile appeared on her face, as she stepped a few feet away and lifted her hoodie over her head, making Harry inhale sharply. “So here are your two options.” Her hands went behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slowly drop to the floor, the green eyes that hadn’t left her now wide as saucers. “Number one.” She toed off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. “We can stop this, obviously, just say the word, and I get to my room, start packing and looking for a new place. We can have some dinner and just chill. Or number two.” Y/N hooked her jeans behind her thumbs and slowly dragged them down her legs, revealing more and more of herself to Harry. “We can go inside your room and make up for the lost time. In every position imaginable, for as long as you want. But.” Y/N’s eyes glimmered with mischief as she made her way to Harry’s room. “I don’t think you wanna take the first option.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning it from the meticulously gelled hairstyle into a mop of messy strands. “You know you’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman.”

Y/N swayed her hips a bit more as she took another step closer to his room, the door meeting her back, and one of her hands went to the doorknob, pressing down on it. “Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss before the first date, and definitely not like that.”

He stood there, hands on his hips, eyes not leaving her body, as she cocked her head. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

They were ten torturous seconds for both, hearts beating out of their chests, but it only took three steps for Harry to cross the hallway, his hand sneaking behind Y/N’s back and pressing down on the doorknob as well, revealing the inside of his room. It was messy, much like her own, but it wouldn’t take too much to rip all off the tossed around bedding leaving a whole bed to themselves.

“You. Are. The. Devil.”

Her smile was nothing short of wicked. “I mean you can listen to the angel on your shoulder.”

“I’d rather listen to you.”

Together they stepped inside, and Y/N nodded. “Making good choices already.”

“Can’t get on your bad side, can I now?”

“I mean you can.” Her legs hit the back of his bed and she fell down on it, Harry leaning over, resting his elbows next to her head. “But bad boys get punished.”

His nose skimmed over hers. Now he was the one smiling like a devil. “I’ll hold you to your word. For future reference, that is.”

That kiss was nothing like their first. This was messy, and passionate, all tongue and teeth, hands grabbing everywhere possible to get the other unclothed. Or at least that’s what Y/N was trying to do, seeing as she was pretty much naked already, and Harry was the one still wearing too much.

Her hands pretty much ripped open the shirt. It one of his expensive Gucci ones, she was quite certain of it, but it didn’t seem like he cared, as he shrugged it off, throwing it to land somewhere on the floor.

Y/N sighed into his mouth as her hands were now freely allowed to run over his chest, over the ink embedded into his skin, over taut muscles that relaxed under her touch, and dig into his sides in an attempt to leave her own marks on him, much like he was going to do to her.

“Think you can take your pants off? It’s only fair.” Y/N muttered into his mouth and his own travelled down to her cheek, then neck and to her chest.

“You mean my trousers?”

Her lips quirked up and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, in this case, I meant pants the British way.”

“And if I’m going commando?”

Y/N pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. “You had nothing underneath all day on set?”

“No! I wouldn’t subject the dressing department to that. But underneath this.” He looked down at his jeans and smiled at her. “I do have nothing.”

“Well then? Get on with it!”

Both of them were giggling, as Y/N tried to unbuckle Harry’s belt, his own fingers mixing with hers as he went for the zipper and the button. He nudged his head towards her. “Your socks and pants come off as well. Or we’ll be unevenly matched.”

Y/N lifted her eyebrow, as she went for her own remaining pieces of clothing. “No socks during sex?”

“No, what kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”

“And if my feet get cold?” She threw them away somewhere.

“We have a blanket.”

As Harry removed his jeans and his own socks, Y/N slipped off the dampened piece of clothing that’d been on her, now both of them completely naked.

“Alright.” He leaned over her again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling them chest to chest. “Happy now?”

Y/N deeply kissed him. “Very. But I think we can make each other even happier.”

“Agreed,” Harry hummed. “Wanna get a taste first.” He attached his lips to her collarbones sucking a bruise there. “Can I?”

She groaned at the feeling, knowing there be a pleasant ache that accompanied mark. “You can. Don’t have to, if you don’t want. No need to do this for me.”

“And if it’s for me?” Harry was moving lower and lower with each word, wet tongue flicking against a perked bud, and making Y/N gasp. “What if I wanna feel you cum on my tongue, and what if I wanna do something I’ve dreamed about for months now?”

His hands were kneading her breasts, mouth having left a trail of kisses down the middle of her stomach as it was moving towards where an ache that’d been left untreated made itself more and more prominent.

“Then please, please, please do something, Harry.”

“With pleasure.”

Luckily for Y/N, she didn’t have to beg any more, as his mouth attached itself to where she wanted him most, tongue sweeping past her lower lips and licking up a broad, steady stripe.

One of her hands went to fist into her hair and the other into Harry’s. “Shit,” she moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Guide me.” He licked a circle around her clit. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Mhgm, fuck, okay,” Y/N breathed out. “I – I mean you’re doing great on your own.” Her chest was heaving as if she was running a marathon, and Harry shifted her legs so that they lay over his shoulders. “But umm, like if you lick around my clit, but like really press down li – oh, fuuuuck, just like that.”

The coil in her stomach tightened with each pass he did, just like Y/N had instructed, small tight circles just how she did with her fingers, only what took her sometimes half an hour, Harry managed to do in less than ten minutes, to have her toes curling and hands grasping anywhere they could find purchase to just keep onto something real.

The vibrations from Harry humming sent shivers straight to her core. “What else, lovie? What else, do you like?”

“If – if –,” Y/N panted, “if you suck on it, but like – fuck – shit! If you kinda keep a seal around my clit, that fuck! Yes!”

The way Harry was eating her out was almost sensational, but what made it even better wasn’t that he just decided to do something and assumed, she’d like it, he asked, he wanted to learn and discover what made her tick and turn, or in this case – cum.

“Harry, ‘m close,” Y/N warned him, feeling the warmth slowly start to spread all throughout her body.

“I’ll get you there.”

He let his lips go for a moment before slipping two of his fingers so that they pinched her clit and moved them slowly but tightly up and down it, while his tongue went to slip inside her hole, and that did it for her.

With a gasp of air, Y/N’s eyes rolled to be back of her head, hips lifting up as euphoria exploded through her veins. Her mind went completely dizzy, and she was quite sure some drool also dribbled down the side of her mouth because she’d lost all ability to function.

“ -o me, love,” Y/N heard as if through a fog, and then felt two soothing palms running up and down her legs. “Come back, love. There you go.”

A drunken smile bloomed on her face, and she ran a hand down it, the same hand that’d grabbed Harry’s hair like a vice. “Fuck. You’re good, you know what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you enjoyed yourself because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

She watched as he straightened out to sit on his knees, her legs still over his shoulders, cock slapping against his stomach, and when she looked down there was a wet patch on his side of the sheets, a sly grin morphing on her face. “You liked eating me out so much you came yourself?”

“What can I say – bringing pleasure, gives me pleasure. And your cunt’s probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. But… do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked, kissing the inside of Y/N’s thighs and watching as she vigorously nodded her head, but he just smirked. “I think I need to test it out. Just to make sure.”

“Harry,” Y/N whined as she felt his fingers skim the apex of her thighs, teasing her.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

With that, he used one of his hands to open up her lips, his thumb pressing down on her already sensitive clit, eliciting a gasp before he allowed two fingers to skim her entrance and then slipped in.

“Still so tight,” he said, watching as Y/N sighed and her mouth fell open, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Told you needed to check if you were ready. What kind of a gentleman would I be now, if I didn’t make sure you could take it?”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “I can take you.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Harry left kisses along her leg, as he continued on with his movements, noting how her hips slowly started to grind down on his palm, so he pushed his fingers in deeper so that the heel of his hand could rest against her clit, making the pleasure intensify. “But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you when all I wanna do is give you pleasure. And you weren’t stretched out enough. Not yet at least.”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Y/N groaned, one arm thrown over her eyes as his fingers hit just the right spot.

“That’s it? Right there?”

“Yes, right there,” she moaned. “Just. Fuck! Just don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Yes, just – just curl your fingers and twist them a bit more.”

And much like the first time, a couple more times was all it took. Her orgasm was even more powerful than the previous and fully knocked her breath out of her lungs. Her legs fell open around his shoulders, stomach and chest spasming from the intensity.

Gentle fingers skimmed up and down Y/N’s arms and featherlight kisses fluttered over her breasts, then chest, neck and finally were peppered across her cheeks.

“Kinda spaced out on me there. You alright? Not too much?”

“ ’M – I’m good. But I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N leaned her head to the side so she could press a kiss against the closest of the swallow tattoos. “Hopefully not. I still wanna take you out on that date.”

Her eyes landed on Harry’s left hand’s ring finger, where a golden band still laid.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted the digits, still covered in her cum before pushing them past his lips and licking them clean. “Forgot to remove it. Hope the prop guys don’t kill me.”

She hated how his eyes sparkled, absolutely knowing what that sight did to her, how it made her stomach flutter and heart thunder against her ribs. Y/N was sure with the force it was pounding, they’d crack.

“Well, if they don’t, I will.” She pulled him down, nails raking on his skin, dragging to rest on his ass as they bit into it. “Now get inside me.”

“Condom.”

“No, ‘m on the pill.”

“I’m clean, I swear, but it’s still not a hundred per cent safe.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’ll buy the morning-after pill. Just need you inside.”

“You sure?” Harry placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. I mean I’m clean, and uh… I just wanna feel you.”

He’d cum once already, and Harry would be dammed if he did it again before having the chance to know how heaven feels like. As gently as possible, he took himself, giving a few strokes before nudging the tip against Y/N’s clit, her sharp inhale stalling him until she nodded.

Her nails dug into his biceps, as he finally slipped inside her, making both of them moan at the feeling. Even with all of the stretching out he’d done with his fingers, and the two orgasms he’d drawn from her, the slickness helping everything to be easy and smooth, Y/N still felt a little sting.

Harry’s head dropped to Y/N’s shoulders and even from under him, she could feel his thighs and stomach shaking, as he tried to hold his composure and give her a little bit of time to adjust.

A couple of deep breaths later, she tapped his ribs. “You can move now.”

“ ‘ya sure?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded her head and pecked his lips reassuringly. “Please.”

His dishevelled and sweaty hair shook as he nodded and slowly drew back his hips so that just the tip of his cock remained in her before gliding back inside. The sight alone was more than enough to make both of them explode, but they wanted to last longer than thirty seconds, especially for their first time together. There’d be quickies for later, now they wanted to have a proper shag.

Bit by bit, Harry’s pace quickened, pearls of sweat gliding down his skin and dampening the sheets below them, much like it was with Y/N. Her leg slid up to rest around his hips, giving him a better angle and more leverage for him to strike the right spot, as he pushed her knee to rest against her chest, Y/N’s head falling back to the pillow.

Her insides were shaking from the pleasure, and it was like an invisible force was pushing down on her chest, as she struggled for a proper breath. “Harry,” she dragged out his name, the word turning into a high-pitched whine.

“I know,” he responded in the same breathless voice. He could feel her tighten around him and wasn’t sure just how much longer he’d be able to keep up the pace. “Touch yourself ‘f me, lovie. C’mon, use those fingers.”

Y/N did as she was told. It didn’t give her that butterfly feeling like it’d happened when they’d been Harry’s, but it did make her cum faster, and the sensation of her gushing around his cock made him lose all self-control and he spilled inside.

It wasn’t enough for Y/N, but she guessed she needed to settle for it. She knew that nothing really ever touched in the universe, that the closest atoms ever come to touching one another is when their wave packets overlap, much like she and Harry were now overlapping, his body lying on top of hers, skin sweaty and frame trembling as he came down from his own high.

“I uh,” Y/N cleared her throat, finger tracing the outline of one of the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest. “When the people came to get my stuff, I umm, asked them to take your rainbow cardigan. Wanted something that smelled like you, so I didn’t feel so alone. Was the first thing I put on when I got out of my hospital gown.”

She felt his body rumble with laughter and a kiss being pressed to her forehead. “I know. Saw Anna stash it inside the suitcase. I uh, I was the one who also put in one of my sweaters. Know how cold you always get.”

She hid her smile against his collarbones. “Thank you. For thinking of me.”

“ 'M always thinking of you… Will you knit me one though?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “Knit you one?”

“Yes. I know you knit –“

“Everyone knits nowadays.”

Harry drew himself back a bit, and she pushed away the matted down strands from his forehead, wiping away the sweat from underneath his green eyes as well. “Yes, but the point is – there’ll be a million other Gucci shirts and sweaters and cardigans. But I’d like to have one-of-a-kind made by you. So, I have something to sleep next to when you’re not next to me.”

Y/N ran a finger along his jawline, biting away her grin. “It’ll probably have mistakes. I’m not that good at it. ‘M not a professional.”

“Exactly.” Harry tilted her head up with a finger and their eyes met. “Which is why it’ll be perfect.”

“The arms will most likely be different lengths in the end.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He pecked her lips before hugging her and not letting go. “It’s flawless for me.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

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A/N: My tags are always open :)

P.S. please don’t repost my work without specific written permission onto other platforms :)

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fanficbitch · 3 years

Text

In Another Life // Girl

Aaron Hotchner x y/n

May 2013

I stopped by the OB on the way home to find out the sex of the baby. However, I went alone because Aaron does not want to know. But I’m so excited. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep this secret for the next four months.

When I get into the apartment, I throw my bags down on the couch then turn into the kitchen where Aaron is cooking dinner. He sees me for a split second then turns away. “Don’t even look at me, I don’t want any hint of the gender,” he says.

“Are you just going to avoid looking at me until I have the baby?” I ask as I sit at the counter.

He suddenly realizes how ridiculous he is being and looks at me with a smile. “I guess you have a good point,” he says then pulls a tray out of the oven.

“So what are we eating?” I ask.

“Cheesy chicken,” he says and slides the chicken onto plates.

“Is Jack here?” I ask and suddenly I hear footsteps down the hall getting closer toward me. Jack appears with a large smile.

“Y/N!” he shouts.

“C’mere sweet boy,” I say and hold out my arms. Jack wraps me in a hug and I kiss his head. “How was school?”

He shrugs. “Okay I guess,” he murmurs.

“Just okay?” I ask.

“We had a spelling test. It was hard,” Jack tells me.

“I’ve never been so good at spelling myself buddy,” I say as we move to the table. Aaron slides plates in front of each of us. “Thank you honey,” I say as Aaron sits down at the head of the table.

“It’s nice to make dinner for my two favorite people,” Aaron says as we start eating.

“It’s nice not just eating takeout,” I say then shove chicken in my mouth. Oh my gosh it is so good.

“How is the baby?” Jack asks. Aaron and I exchange glances then I turn to Jack. He is so excited that he asks about the baby nearly everyday at dinner.

“Good, I just went to the doctor and the baby is healthy,” I tell him. I know Aaron is going to kill me for this next part, but I have to say it. “And I know if you’re getting a brother or sister.”

Jack’s face lights up. “Tell me, tell me!” he begs.

“Now hang on,” Aaron says. “You can’t tell Jack and not tell me.”

“Oh, I can tell you whenever you want,” I says.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Aaron says.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out out due to Aaron’s phone going off. “Hotchner,” Aaron says into the phone. I quickly eat a bunch of chicken because I know what’s coming next. “We’ll be right there,” he says then hangs up the phone. “We’re needed in California,” he says then pushes back from the table.

I notice the disappointment in Jack’s face once Aaron leaves. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll finish eating with you,” I tell him although that doesn’t lighten his mood much.

I notice that Aaron has disappeared down the hall, and then I turn back to Jack. “Do you wanna know a secret?” I ask and Jack nods urgently. “Okay, you have to keep it between me and you. You can’t tell Dad, promise?”

“I promise,” he says.

“Okay, you are going to have a little sister,” I say and Jack’s mouth opens wide.

“Wow,” he says.

“Is that a happy wow or a sad wow?” I ask.

“Happy wow,” he says then continues eating. My heart warms that Jack is so excited and now is excited about having a sister.

“Remember, this is just between you and me,” I remind him.

“Got it,” he tells me.

Aaron comes back down the hallway in his suit. “I called Jess. She’s on her way,” he says.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can,” I say then he leans down to kiss me. “I love you,” I say.

“I love you too,” he tells me then kisses Jack’s head. “I love you buddy. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Dad!” Jack shouts as Aaron walks out the door.

**********

The case we’re currently working gives me creepy vibes, especially now that I’m pregnant. Nannies and the children they have been watching have been kidnapped on the same day for the last six years. Lately, any case with children just freaks me out.

I am currently talking with the parents of Phoebe Payton, the girl who was kidnapped. “But it’s been 24 hours, doesn’t the kidnapper usually return the child by then?” Mrs. Payton asks urgently.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we should assume anything. We are still focused on finding Phoebe,” I tell her.

“But she could be dead by now,” Mrs. Payton screeches.

“We’re hoping that she is not,” I say. “Ma’am, just take a few deep breaths and try to calm down.”

Mrs. Payton lets out a scream then bangs her fists on the table. “You don’t even know how hard this is. Do you even have kids?” she asks and I pause.

“Yes, I have a son,” I say.

“Okay, well imagine your son being taken and that your son has asthma and doesn’t have his inhaler,” she says.

“I imagine that would be very difficult,” I say quietly.

“I-I just need a moment alone please,” Mrs. Payton says.

“Of course,” I say then step out of the room.

I join the rest of my team in the conference room of the station. “Did you get anywhere with her?” Rossi asks.

“No, she’s obviously very distressed,” I say.

“Y/N,” Aaron calls from the other end of the room. I yawn as I walk over to him. “I think you should go to the hotel and get some rest.”

“No, I’m okay,” I tell him.

“Fine, I’m making you go to the hotel and rest,” he says. “I’ll be around to check on you in a while.”

“Fine,” I groan then kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

**********

I went to the hotel, but I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking about the case and Phoebe. It was hard enough to talk to Mrs. Payton about her daughter being taken, I can’t imagine actually having your child taken. Shivers run down my spine. Just the thought of losing Jack scares the hell out of me.

The door to my hotel room opens to reveal Aaron. “What are you doing up?” he asks then sits on the side of the bed.

“I can’t sleep,” I say sheepishly. “I just keep thinking of Phoebe. Ever since I got pregnant all these kid cases hit me hard.”

Aaron sighs. “I know, they get me too.”

“I just can’t imagine if this happened to Jack or our baby girl,” I say. Despite my tone, a smile grows on Aaron’s face. “What?” I ask.

“Baby girl?” he asks. I suddenly realize what I have done and my hands cover my mouth.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I say the take his hands.

“Baby girl,” Aaron repeats without making eye contact with me. My hands move to his cheeks.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“We’re having a baby girl,” he says quietly.

“Are you okay with that?” I ask carefully.

“O-Of course I am. I’m thrilled about it,” he says and I squeal with excitement.

“We’re having a girl!” I say then press my lips to his. Aaron’s expression suddenly changes.

“Now you really have to get some sleep. I don’t want my girls being up all night,” he warns me. My heart swells at his word choice of girls, plural.

“Fine,” I whisper. “I’ll try just for you.”

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tanoraqui · 3 years

Text

There actually are enough good fics about postcanon tentative reforging of assorted pairs and even the whole of the Gusu Summer School No Brain Cell Trio to satisfy my niche itch, so pls enjoy these stray snippets of a fic I don't have to write:

Nothing would've happened if the cultivation conference wasn't at Cloud Recesses. But it was, Cloud Recesses with its pale stone and gracefully winding walkways and too many memories, including Lan Xichen sitting the whole thing out in seclusion somewhere... If it'd been at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang would've been busy and if it'd been at Carp Tower the memories only would've been manageably bad, and if it was Lotus Pier or one of many smaller sects, it would've been...fine. Just fine.

But it was Cloud Recesses this year, this first conference since Jin Guangyao's downfall, and specifically it was half past ten at night, and Nie Huaisang was wandering the elegant pathways with a mostly full jar of wine in one hand. The previous jar, now entirely empty, had been left back in his room. He was a Nie, so he was only half as drunk as he'd always used to pretend at these things - but at least twice as drunk as he'd ever actually been.

After da-ge's death, of course. Before that, he used to get plenty drunk. Playfully drunk. With friends.

It would be a terrible idea for him to go appear on Lan Xichen's doorstep. Neither of them was ready for that yet.

So he appeared on Jiang Cheng's.

[ . . . ]

"Fine." Nie Huaisang pouted and turned. "I'll go ask Wei-xiong - "

And Jiang Cheng was easy, he was so easy, he'd always been easy, the only new thing is the faintest edge of wariness to his fury -

He grabbed Nie Huaisang's elbow in a flash and snapped, "Ugh, fine, I'll go - but I'm holding the wine."

Nie Huaisang laughed and handed it over. Jiang Cheng immediately took a deep swig.

[ . . . ]

It must've been a quiet night at the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian's sleeping robes didn't look the least bit hastily pulled on, and his lips were only the slightest bit red and puffy.

[ . . . ]

[for the record, this takes place in a book-show postcanon fusion wherein immediately post-Guanyin Temple, WWX and LWJ ran off to fuck in the bushes at least once a day for as long as possible, but in their absence, various sect leaders voted that Lan Wangji should be Chief Cultivator now, and alas some messenger caught up with them about six months into their honeymoon. Definitely caught them in flagrante delicto. Tragic for all. I’d probably communicate all this hereish somehow. It was definitely NHS who finally tipped someone off on how to actually find them.]

[ . . . ]

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Wei Wuxian said, with a lidded look at Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang burst into a giggles because the two most unequivocally lethal people he knew were afraid to leave each other alone with him, and it was satisfying to be recognized but also what's he going to do, personally? Cry at them? It'd taken him years to destroy Jin Guangyao, and at this point it'd take him months, if not years again to re-destroy the Yiling Patriarch, much less Sandu Shengshou. Especially when they both kept doing things like watching each others backs while pretending they weren't.

[ . . . ]

"Of course we need more!" Wei Wuxian declared. "This isn't even Emperor's Smile!"

[ . . . ]

"It's just a rat or something," Jiang Cheng scoffed.

"So?!" Wei Wuxian cried grandly. "Are we not noble cultivators? Is it not our duty to investigate this woman's complaint, and to slay whatever monster plagues her good inn’s wonderful cellar, whether deathly or monstrous or rodential it be?" He turned to Nie Huaisang and begged, "Help me out, Nie-xiong. You agree with me, right?"

Nie Huaisang clutched his cup against his chest, eyes wide, and shook his head in sharp jerks. "I don't know! I don't know!"

Wei Wuxian laughed and elbowed him in the side.

[ . . . ]

[while waiting for Wei Wuxian to send some sort of signal]

"You know I don't bear any grudge against Jin Ling, right?"

Jiang Cheng's impatient glare snapped to him, darkening with threat; his hand shifted on Sandu's hilt toward a drawing position. "What?"

"I don't bear any sort of grudge against Jin Ling," Nie Huaisang repeated, holding only the last jar of Emperor's Smile. "That's why you've been side-eyeing me all night, right? All conference." He took another sip (it really was the best!) and added recklessly, "If I wanted Jin Ling dead and disgraced, or all Carp Tower burned to ash, they already would be."

Sandu slid an inch out of its scabbard and Nie Huaisang watch it with fascinated curiosity. From a greater distance, he wondered if that was entirely healthy.

"What about Lotus Pier?" Jiang Cheng asked abruptly.

It took Nie Huaisang a blinking moment to focus on him.

"What about Lotus Pier?"

Jiang Cheng sat beside him on the cold earth and yanked the jar out of his hands, cruelly before Nie Huaisang could take another sip.

"Where's your grand terrible vengeance against me and mine? I get it, but if you're being honest for once right now, you could at least tell me when it's going to hit, and how."

"What?" Nie Huaisang pushed himself against his tree trunk, genuinely confused. "Why would i have a terrible vengeance planned against you?"

"I benefitted from Nie Mingjue's death, didn't I?" Jiang Cheng took another swig of wine of his own, and swung the jar illustratively. "My disciples have hunted in your territory while you 'weren't paying attention.' I absolutely fleeced you in that trade deal four years ago. And I worked with that bastard as much as anyone but Lan Xichen, especially on those damn watchtowers, and you broke him. So when's it my turn?" He pointed at Nie Huaisang, finger only wavering slightly. “If you fuck with Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian, or my sect, I will fuck you back.”

"You- oh, gimme that. Gimme. Gimme!" Nie Huaisang leaned forward and tried to grab the wine jar, and more importantly whined until Jiang Cheng handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, thrust it back and ordered, “Drink,” without letting it go, and once Jiang Cheng had dutifully tilted it back, pulled it back and slugged down the last swallows. He needed more alcohol for this much honesty, and so did Jiang Cheng.

He set the jar down very carefully, because the ground seemed to be moving, and leaned forward with even more care. He enunciated clearly, “Everyone fleeced me, and hunted in my territory, and I acsh- ass- let them. Why would I expect you to go looking for trouble with Jin Guangyao, when he had your heart locked in a box in his treasure room?”

Jiang Cheng, who was a respected master of all five arts but probably hadn’t actually read poetry for fun since an instructor had officially declared him as such, and who was himself at least a full wine jar in, squinted in angry confusion.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “He had final say over where and how Jin Ling spent his time, and could’ve tried to poison him against you. What would you have even have done if I had come complaining?”

Jiang Cheng’s face only fell further, with the very sort of drunken moroseness Nie Huaisang was out here to avoid.

Nie Huaisang attempted to swap him sharply. He failed on both the swap and the sharpness.

“Stoppit! Stop thinking you’re not useful! You weren’t! I needed to pry er-ge away from him and for that only Lan Wangji would work, and I needed someone to watch his back through thick and deadly thin, and to be so disruptive that even Meng Yao couldn’t...circle, sneaky, planning...”

They were waiting for the pulse of a light talisman from the other tunnel entrance, half a mile away. There was a small but very bright explosion. laced with resentful as well as spiritual energy.

“Motherfucker!” Jiang Cheng cursed, leaping to his feet and drawing Sandu in one hideously coordinated motion.

“Just Lan Wangji, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, because Nie Mingjue himself couldn’t have stopped him. He groped for his own weapons - fan, check; wine jar -

“Oh no!”

“What?” Jiang Cheng snapped, as he bent and dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet with one hand. (Hideously coordinated. Sword people, honestly...)

“He’s going to be so mad that we finished the wine without him!”

[ . . . ]

[three grown-ass men, two sect leaders and one Yiling Patriarch, flying at high speed through Caiyi Town on one sword, all screaming. Nie Huaisang is clinging to Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian is flinging to Jiang Cheng, a little bit to Nie Huaisang, and most importantly to a chicken, Jiang Cheng is flying the sword. There is a bedsheet draped over all of them from where they ran into a laundry line. It’s 2am. Again I say, all are screaming]

[ . . . ]

[it probably wasn’t a rat - not just one, at least. Wei Wuxian does something incredibly clever, possibly including a creative use of that bedsheet; Jiang Cheng singlehandedly defeats something in combat, probably after he and Wei Wuxian shove each other out of the way of blows without either of them acknowledging it. Nie Huaisang shoves them both under cover and then with perfect professionalism tells whoever came to check on the ruckus that they handled the problem exactly as planned with absolutely no involvement of alcohol, and the Chief Cultivator will foot the bill for the unfortunately absolutely necessary property damage. Overall, they did handle the problem, but the local cryptid they were chasing will only have its reputation swelled and its continued existence assumed by all locals. it is possible that they themselves made this cryptid up two decades ago, but idk how heavy-handed we want to be.]

[ . . . ]

Nie Huaisang was leaning heavily on Wei Wuxian by the time they got back to the guest quarters. He could hold his alcohol, he was a goddamn Nie, and frankly he’d had it adrenalined out of him at least twice this evening. But he’d also had rather a lot, and he didn’t have Jiang Cheng’s golden core or Wei Wuxian’s blithe lack of sleep schedule.

“I missed this,” he admitted, head on Wei Wuxian’s (Mo Xuanyu’s) shoulder while Jiang Cheng opened the door.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Nie Huaisang’s. “Me too.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” Jiang Cheng grouched, which meant, Me too.

Wei Wuxian stripped off Nie Huaisang’s muddy outer robe and tucked him into bed, and Jiang Cheng poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the door, drank it, poured another, scowled at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and set it on the bedside table. Wei Wuxian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, finished with Nie Huaisang and started backing out of the room.

Nie Huaisang sat up more or less abruptly. “Both of you have got to stop that bullshit. I miss my brothers, okay? I’d I had a second chance...” He sagged back down with the plural, and flung an arm over his damp eyes. There was a glimmer in the sky; it’d be morning by Lan standards soon. “I fucking miss them.”

“...Ah,” said Wei Wuxian, who always spoke even when he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said abruptly, and, “Drink your fucking water.” And the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

[...a few lines of dialogue later...]

“Seriously, you can go.” Nie Huaisang flicked a few tired fingers in dismissal.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian added with an audible smirk, “Because if I stay up for another half hour, I can wake Lan Zhan with a morning...big ol’...loving...”

Nie Huaisang finally adjusted his arm to crack one eye up at him.

“People usually cut me off before I get that far,” Wei Wuxian admitted.

[ . . . a bit more dialogue and the end.]

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #to the shick of no one i did write more in this than i thought i would #it's still like...no connective tissue though #and i'm not bothering with anything more #my fic #ficlet #i'm not gonna lie that plural snuck up on me #love when that happens!#incidentally you can’t prove that there ISNT a classic ancient fantasy China version of a telltale heart so my reference stands

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semisgroupie · 3 years

Text

The Woman Who Used to be Mrs. Jones

Genre: smut, fluff (kinda at the end?), angst

Pairing: Aoi Todo X F!Reader

Word Count: 6.4k words

Warnings (some of the content can be triggering so please read through the warnings before reading this): cheating (in this Todo is the other man/reader is in a loveless marriage where her husband cheats on her/her husband is just a huge asshole), toxic relationship, sexual scenes, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), oral sex (f! and m! receiving), dirty talk, multiple creampies, bathroom sex, praise, risky sex (they fuck at a party the reader and her husband is hosting), mention of a small altercation between Todo and reader’s husband, mention of a child & brief mention of pregnancy (not detailed), if I missed anything let me know

A/N: I do not condone, support or encourage cheating! It is not good, don’t do it! The song Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul helped me with creating this piece so I recommend listening to it while reading this. This has depicted sex within this so MINORS DNI (I’m not gonna cry bc I don’t cry but I am not afraid to beat some ass) So I hope you all enjoy it, comments/reblogs are very appreciated!!! I also apologize in advance if formatting is weird on mobile :/

Flashbacks are bolded & italicized! Also separated by a border!

Todo walks up to the counter of the cafe and orders the usual for the both of you. He came early since he was done with work earlier than usual so after paying for the drinks he carried them to the special spot you two shared. Once seated he takes his phone out to check the time while taking a sip from his drink.

The time read 5:45. You got out fifteen minutes ago and your job wasn’t too far from the cafe, so you’d be there soon. The bell chimed to the cafe and Todo looked up to see you walk in.

His heart pounded in his chest, you looked as beautiful as you did the first day he met you all those years ago in high school. Once you two made eye contact you flashed him a smile and made your way over to him.

“Hey baby, I didn’t think you’d be here before me.”

He felt his cheeks flush at the pet name. You leaned down to hug him and give him a kiss, placing your hands on each side of his face caressing him as your lips met. Once you pulled away you sat down and started talking about your day at work.

He couldn’t help but lose focus as to what you were saying. He knew your day was tough from how your hair looked a bit disheveled from running your hands through it, a habit you had picked up when you were extremely stressed.

Time passed as the two of you spoke about each other’s days and then you were both done with your drinks.

“Wanna go home now Aoi? As much as I love it here I found this new recipe online that I would really like to try out!”

He nodded as you both got up, tipped the cashier one last time before heading to your shared home. The distance was short from where you both were currently and when you two were together even one hundred miles would feel like two blocks.

As Todo put the key in to unlock the door he sighed in content. Once you both were inside he took your jacket off and put it away. He leaned on the kitchen island while you started taking out ingredients for dinner.

“This isn’t a dream right Y/N?”

It just felt so unrealistic to him he just had to be dreaming. Your laughter filled the air as you walked towards him. You wrapped your arms around his body and looked up at him.

“While we did this in the most unconventional way it is very much real” you removed your left hand from his body to put your hand close to his line of view, “this ring you gave me a few months ago is proof of our love and the ring I gave you on your left ring finger is also proof of my love and dedication to you.”

Unconventional? Was that even the right word to explain the events that led you both to where you are now?

You started your arrangement with him two years ago. You became “Mrs. Jones” a year before that. A happy marriage was wished to the both of you, but your marriage was anything but that. Six months after you both said your I do’s you found your husband in bed with his boss. They didn’t even think about trying to conceal their affair.

To say it broke your heart was an understatement. You felt like he ripped your heart out of your chest and destroyed it slowly as you watched. Soon there were lonely nights filled with you drinking and crying yourself to sleep. Soon after you just became numb, you got used to putting up a facade whenever your friends or family asked how married life was.

The only one who knew of the affair and how horrible your marriage actually was, was your best friend Valerie. When she first found out you had to hold her back the next time she saw him because she was just filled with rage. You were trying to find a good divorce attorney, but you just didn’t have enough money yet, so you were stuck for the time being. Then it was time to plan how to celebrate one year since the day you married him.

Valerie said that she would bring a special surprise for you, but you just pushed it to the side. You settled on hosting a party at your parent’s house since it was big enough. The fake smile you had plastered on your face burned your soul more than the cheap ring on your finger. A cheap ring that meant the entire world one moment but now means absolutely nothing.

You were leaning on the wall, holding a glass of champagne, next to your husband as Valerie approached you.

“Y/N! You look absolutely stunning!” she gave your husband a side glance as she begrudgingly said his name, “Declan... anyways I have your surprise so come with me to the backyard!”

Before you could say anything she grabbed your hand and weaved both of you through the crowd of people. She opened the door and you almost dropped your glass at the sight.

“Aoi? I thought you were away in Sweden?”

Todo brings a hand to his neck.

“I was but my job relocated here, and Valerie told me everything. As much as I’d love to say congratulations, I can’t.”

Your body moves on its own as you approach him and hug him. He holds you on instinct and all that is heard is sniffles. You move back and quickly apologize for your abrupt actions.

“Hey, don’t apologize pretty girl” he brought his hands to cup your face and wiped the tears from your face, “Declan should be the one apologizing, how could he take someone like you for granted. I know you might not believe me, but you look just as beautiful as you did when we were in high school.”

The two of you were high school sweethearts but got accepted into different colleges. The inevitable happened and you both broke up, heading your separate ways losing contact. The last thing you heard about him was he had a job in Sweden and that was it. After college you met Declan and he seemed like a knight in shining armor, but it was too late for you to realize he was the devil in disguise.

You leaned into his touch as if you two were the only ones there. Only if he was the one you married; you both would be so happy. You wouldn’t have to worry about any mistresses or affairs because even in this moment you felt all his love. Todo moved in and before you knew it you felt his lips on yours.

You melted into the kiss immediately kissing him back until he abruptly pulled away.

“I am so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to you’re still married, and this is the anniversary party and he’s inside—”

“I don’t care about Declan. The only one I care about is you. Valerie always says I should be a little selfish and now is the time. I still care about you Aoi, I still love you. The piece of my heart that left with you is now back and I’m whole again. I understand if you’re not comfortable with this, I am trying to find a lawyer and once I get the promotion at my job I can finally pay for one.”

You looked up at him hoping he would indulge you in one last kiss even if it would be the last one you two ever shared. You watched as a smile grew on his handsome face.

“I love you too Y/N, I always had and I always will. When Valerie told me about everything I cannot explain the anger I felt not only at him but also myself. If I never left then you wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe you would’ve been with me.”

He leaned down and placed another kiss on your lips. Before it could continue Valerie ran out to the both of you.

“Hey lovebirds as much as I love seeing you two together Declan is starting a toast and wants his wife by his side.”

She rolled her eyes as your husband’s name left her lips. You took a deep breath and turned inside, Valerie and Todo following you. You took another deep breath as you made your way to your husband putting up the fake smile. He handed you a glass of champagne and started the toast.

“This past year with my beautiful wife by my side has been the best year of my life. Waking up next to her every morning is what fuels my fire. I love this woman so much and marrying her was the best decision of my life. Thank you all for coming and supporting us. Here’s to a happy, healthy marriage and for many more years to come!”

As glasses clinked and cheers filled the room you were filled with disgust at his words. How could he spew such garbage knowing it meant absolutely nothing?

“Come on honey, you can do a better job with that fake fucking smile. Make everyone believe that we’re in love and that I haven’t fucked almost every single one of my coworkers. Maybe I’ll even indulge in you tonight.”

“Fuck you Declan, you piece of shit.”

You excused yourself to the bathroom shoving your heel into his foot making him wince in pain. Todou followed you upstairs a few minutes afterwards hearing your sobs. He knocked on the door once, twice until your shaky voice responded.

“Hey it’s me, I wanted to check on you.”

He waited hearing your heels click on the ground until you reached the door to open it. You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, eyes puffy from all the rubbing and wiping your tears away. Todo looked at you with so much love it was as if Eros struck him with his bow.

He quickly placed his lips on yours, the kiss feverish but also very loving. As if he was telling you how much he loved you each time his lips met yours. He picked you up and placed you on top of the bathroom sink, quickly running to shut and lock the bathroom door.

“Please let me make you forget about him. Please let me show you what it is like to make love and not fuck. Please Y/N.”

All you did was nod before placing your lips back on his allowing your hands to slide down and undo his belt. He allowed you to undo his belt and pants letting them hit the ground while he was lifting the skirt of your dress up.

“As much as I’d love to take my time worshipping your body we have to make this pretty quick beautiful. But please if you want to stop at any time stop me.”

You nodded at him as you felt his hand lightly graze your clothed pussy. He moved your panties to one side as he slipped a finger in, slowly moving it then inserting a second finger moving it just as slow but each movement made you moan and shiver. You started getting impatient and you grabbed his wrist.

“Please Aoi, please make love to me.”

He slotted his lips against yours again as he removed his cock from his boxers. Moving the tip against your folds making you both moan in the kiss. Once he entered you, slowly and gentle, you broke away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan. Once you gave him the okay he started thrusting.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby. Just holding me like you don’t want me to let go.”

He moved faster hitting all the right spots. It was as if his cock was designed to fit inside your pussy. Both of your moans and groans filled the small bathroom. It quickly became heated as the mirror started to fog up. He started thrusting into you faster and harder making you throw your hands on the mirror for stabilization.

He placed sloppy kisses along the column of your neck. He lifted himself from your neck to lick two of his fingers and place them on your clit, moving them in small tight circles.

“Come on baby cum for me. Cum all over my cock and I will fill you up. I’ll make this pretty little pussy so fucking messy with my cum and you’ll walk around in that party filled with it. You look so fucking gorgeous baby. I love you so much.”

That sent you off the edge, creaming on his cock with a high pitched moan of his name. He continued pounding your pussy through your orgasm as he was nearing his own. You pulled him in for another kiss running your nails up and down his clothed chest. Feeling your nails against him made him reach his own peak, filling you completely with his cum.

Todo peppered kisses along your lips, swollen and puffy from kissing so intensely, as you both came down from your highs.

“I’m going to pull out now okay?”

“Okay that’s fine.”

You didn’t need to tell Todo to be gentle, he was already treating you like fine glass. He slowly pulled out and quickly moved your underwear to cover your cum filled pussy. A low chuckle left his lips.

“Don’t want you leaking cum all over the place.”

He lifted you off the bathroom sink after picking up both his pants and boxers. Before you could even smooth out your dress Todo did it for you, fixing any flyaways in your hair and placing one last kiss on your lips. He unlocked the door and helped lead you to the stairs.

“We should head down at separate times so we don’t look so suspicious.”

You nodded, placing one last kiss one his lips.

“I love you Aoi.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

You went downstairs and walked to your parents. You had a small limp and it filled both Aoi and yourself with joy seeing how your husband stared, completely confused at you. Valerie leaned next to you close to your ear.

“I already gave Aoi your phone number, go get that dick again.”

She lightly smacked your ass, a small yelp leaving your lips. The party went on for a couple more hours, lingering glances shared between you and Todo. When the party ended you had to figure out a ride situation since your husband drank way too much and you were a little tipsy.

Declan’s brother offered to take him back and before he could offer you a ride Todo came up and offered to take you home, to which you immediately agreed. The ride was filled with laughter and talk of memories. Also, when Todo parked at a secluded area near where you live you thanked him for the ride with a mind blowing blowjob.

He dropped you off in front of your place, being the gentleman he is, he walked you to the front door giving you one last kiss.

“I hope to see you again soon beautiful angel.”

“How about tomorrow? We could go get drinks or dinner.”

“There’s a cafe near my job, I’ll text you the address. Meet me there tomorrow when you’re done with work.”

You nodded as you fished your keys out of your purse. Taking a deep breath you unlocked the door and put your things away, heading straight to the guest bedroom because you refuse to sleep in the same bed Declan had all his whores in.

You thought he went to sleep until you heard a groan of your name. You rolled your eyes and continued going to the guest bedroom, ignoring him until you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“What do you want Declan?”

“What, I can’t touch my wife? You looked really sexy tonight so I thought I might do you the favor of fucking you.”

Fire burned in your veins. Every time you tried to pull yourself away from his hold, his grip got tighter.

“Declan, you’re drunk, and I hate you. Even if I was drunk I still wouldn’t go to bed with you, so make good friends with your hand or call one of your whores up because I will never sleep with you again.”

He turned you around.

“Listen here you bitch, you will never talk to me like that ever again. I did you the fucking favor of marrying your sorry ass now you treat me like this? I haven’t touched you in fucking months and this is what you tell me? Fuck you.”

“My sorry ass? Did me a favor? Did you also do me a favor by cheating on me over and over again? Did you do me a fucking favor then Declan? Rubbing it in my face that you didn’t love me the way I loved you, fucking anything that had tits and bringing them back here. I. Fucking. Hate. You. Rot. In. Hell. I don’t know what those girls see in you anyways, I had to fake almost all my orgasms and your dick has a weird curve, you should go see a doctor for that actually. I can’t wait until I have the money to divorce you and properly leave your sorry ass in the dust.”

You snatched your arm from his grip and locked yourself in the guest bedroom. You took off the heels and unzipped your dress letting it hit the ground as you made your way to the bathroom that was connected to the room. You took off the ring on your left hand flushing it down the toilet.

“That’ll be the last I see of you.”

You turned on the shower letting the water run, steam filling up the bathroom fogging up the mirror. You slipped your panties off the memory of your time with Aoi in the bathroom of your parents’ house filling your mind as you picked up the cum stained panties and put them in the laundry basket.

You entered the shower letting the water run over your body. After your shower you put your pajamas on and sent a goodnight text to Todo setting up the time for meeting at the cafe tomorrow. The next morning you woke up to an empty house, you let out a sigh of relief not wanting to deal with Declan after the stunt he pulled last night.

Your day at work went fairly quickly then it was the end of your workday. Inputting the address Todo gave you into the GPS you realized the drive was going to be pretty short. Once you found parking you walked into the cafe, the little bell on the door chiming with the movement. You looked around and saw Todo sitting at a corner side table, isolated from most of the crowd.

That’s when you started the arrangement. He was fine with being the sideman for now until he could properly have you to himself. Little dates and mind blowing sex filled your lives for the next four months.

~Four Months Later~

Todo was sitting at the table that basically became the unofficially assigned table for you both as he heard the chime to the door. His head shot up expecting you to come through the doorway. It was just an elderly couple. He checked his phone again, checking for any new messages from you and nothing. Just the last message that read: “I’ll see you soon my love”.

Today was the day you would find out if you got the promotion. With the promotion you would get a huge increase in your salary and a $2,000 advance once it was official. $2,000 was the amount you needed to finally afford the divorce lawyer.

Ten minutes passed and Todo ordered another drink for himself. To say he was nervous for you would be an understatement. He was fidgeting like crazy. He received the drink and sat back down at the table. The door chimed again and he looked up to finally see you.

You waved at him and gave him a small smile. Worry filled him and he was afraid to ask you how everything went.

“There’s no way she didn’t get the promotion. She has the best relationship with her boss and she works so hard.” He thought to himself.

You greeted him with a kiss on his head and sat down. He stood silent watching you.

“So I should tell you about what happened at work right Aoi?”

“You don’t have to honey, it’s fine.”

A smile graced your face, a genuine smile, the only type of smile that you shared with Todo since he filled you with genuine happiness.

“I got the promotion.”

Todo sat there in shock.

“What? What did you just say?”

“I got the promotion. I just came back from meeting the divorce lawyer to fill out necessary paperwork, that’s why I came so late.”

He got up from his seat and lifted you up into his arms.

“I’m so happy. I could yell from the rooftops.”

So he did the next best thing, he yelled about your promotion to the entire cafe. The people inside applauded you and gave you words of encouragement. The elderly man approached the both of you after Todo put you down.

“Congratulations to you young lady. This young man seems to be extremely proud of you. I didn’t mean to interrupt the celebration but it’s just that the both of you remind both my wife and I of us when we were younger. While we met under unconventional circumstances we have spent the past 30 years together. I wish you both a happy, healthy relationship.”

You both thanked the old man and watched him walk back to his wife.

“Do you think we’ll be like them one day Aoi?”

He pulled you close to him.

“I don’t think we will, I have a feeling I know we will. Now let’s go pick up your things and bring you back to my place to properly celebrate.”

He drove you to your house and walked with you inside to pack your clothes. In the midst of packing things you both heard the front door slam shut, meaning one thing: Declan was home.

“Care to explain the car in front Y/N? I know you don’t have enough money to afford a new one.”

You sighed and continued packing with Todo.

“I was asking you a fucking question -- oh who’s this? Why are you packing? Oh I get it now, finally got a new guy to deal with your shit? Good luck buddy--”

Before Declan could get another sentence out Todo walked over and shoved him against the wall.

“Don’t you ever speak to Y/N like that again asshole. For your information, she’s leaving you and coming with me. A guy who actually loves her.”

Declan stood there shocked that someone stood up to him. Once you zipped up your bag Todo left Declan to help you. Todo walked behind you with your bag in his hand. You turned one last time to Declan.

“Oh by the way I’ve been having sex with Aoi for the last four months and the first time was at the anniversary party. The reason I was limping was because of him not because of my heels. And you’ll be getting my divorce papers soon, go fuck yourself Declan.”

You walked with Todo to his car and he drove you back to the cafe so you could bring your car to his place. Once you entered through the front door he was on top of you. Placing sloppy kisses all over your lips and neck.

“You looked so fucking sexy there Y/N.”

He picked you up and brought you to his bedroom while you were peppering kisses along his neck. He put you on the bed and started stripping, you followed suit until you were left in your bra and panties and he was left in his boxers.

He pushed you down on the bed and crawled over you. Placing kisses down your body, removing your bra once he got to your chest and removing your panties once he got to your hips. Not one inch of your body was left untouched by his lips except your pussy. The place you needed him most.

“Aoi please.”

“Please what baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Need you—your mouth on my pussy please.”

He wasted no time. He licked from your leaking entrance to your engorged clit. Making you throw your head back.

“I don’t know how but you taste better every time. I’m fucking addicted to how you taste.”

He dove back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and using a finger to tease your entrance. He was alternating between light sucks and harsh sucks making you buck your hips against his mouth.

“Aoi please fuck me. Wanna cum on your cock please.”

He gave your clit one last suck and took the finger he used to circle your entrance and put it in your mouth. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his finger made him even harder if that was possible. He stood up and took off his boxers, throwing them to a random area in the room.

He spit on his hand and pumped himself a few times as he made his way back on the bed.

“Are you ready my love?”

You spoke breathlessly “yes Aoi, please.”

He aligned himself and entered you slowly, going inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you. A moan leaving both of your lips.

“And correction my love, I don’t fuck you” you furrowed your brows but that expression quickly changed when he pulled himself back until only the head of his cock was inside you and he bottomed out again in a swift movement, “I make love to you.”

He leaned down placing his forearms on either side of your head slotting his lips against yours. His thrusts slowly increase in speed. He breaks the kiss to praise you.

“My beautiful girl is so talented. You look so gorgeous right now. So fucking beautiful, I love you Y/N. I love you so much.”

“Aoi, feels s’good. Please I’m gonna cum soon. You fill me so good, like you were made for me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and he slides his hand down between the two of you to rub circles around your clit. Your moans start increasing in pitch signaling that you’re going to cum. You bring your hands to his back and rake your nails down, digging into his skin, sure to leave marks. His ruts increased in speed bringing you to your orgasm.

“Fuck baby you’re clenching my cock so tight. I’m gonna cum so deep in your pussy baby. I’m gonna fill you up every single day because now you are mine.”

He emphasized each word with a hard thrust. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Once he cums he sinks his teeth in trying to conceal the guttural moan that leaves his mouth. Coming down from his high he lifts his head up.

“I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s no need to apologize Aoi, I’m sorry about the scratches on your back.”

“Don’t apologize pretty girl, with how often we’re going to be making love I’ll get used to it.”

He slowly pulled out and you felt the cum leak out of you. He picked you up and carried you bridal style to the shower. Let’s just say both of you were lucky that the neighbors were gone for the night.

~1 year later~

The both of you have been together for a year and four months. Todo was by your side the entire time throughout the divorce preceding. Comforting you and supporting you the entire time. Once your divorce was finalized your relationship received an official title.

Both of you were extremely happy but there was the voice in the back of Todo’s head that gave him doubts. When he went to go engagement ring shopping with Valerie the voice was there.

As he picked out the perfect ring for you the voice was there. His head was filled with doubts. Of course he loved you, he loved you more than anyone or anything in the world. He knew you loved him. His love for you was immortal, unconditional but he wasn’t so sure if it was the same for you.

That voice in his head hammering doubts over and over again it made him nervous. He started to wonder if he should bring the ring back. If he should change his mind. It was that voice.

“What if she gets tired of you like her husband did with her? What if she finds someone better than you? What if she doesn’t love you as much as you love her? Could you handle the heartbreak Aoi? Could you?”

He started getting distant from you, less kisses in the morning, leaving without saying goodbye, barely initiating sex, it made you worried. What if he’s getting tired of you like Declan? You texted him wanting to meet at the cafe after work. He just sent back a simple “okay”.

Reading it made you even more nervous than before. When you were done with work you drove as slow as you possibly could to the nearby parking lot. You opened the door to the cafe and once you looked around you saw Todo there, fidgeting.

“Is he going to end things with me? We were supposed to move to the new house next week.” You wondered to yourself, you both had so many plans for the future but the future is uncertain.

You sat down and it was silent. He nudged your drink over to you and that was the most interaction you got from him since you got there. It killed you to not talk to him and it was killing him too.

“Y/N, I’m scared.”

You looked into his eyes and saw the fear within them. But what could he possibly be scared about?

“Aoi, what’s wrong? What’s scaring you?”

“What if you get tired of me? What if you meet someone better than me? What if—”

“Aoi. Stop that please” your voice started shaking, it broke your heart to see the man you love being plagued with such fears.

“Aoi, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. You’re my love. You’re my soulmate. You make me happier than anyone in this world. You brighten up my day, the small things you do make me fall even more in love with you.”

You got up and bent down to hug him. You pulled back holding his face in your hands.

“Aoi I will never get tired of you. I let you leave me once and I never plan on doing it ever again. I love you Aoi Todo, I will love you until my heart stops beating and I will love you long after that. In every life I will look for you to recreate this love over and over again. If I had to go back in time I would go through this all over again just to be right here with you.”

Tears were falling down both of your faces by the time you stopped speaking. You wiped his tears away and he lifted his hands to wipe yours away. He pulled your face closer to his and kissed you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so so sorry.”

He muttered apologies against your lips and when you both pulled away it was his turn to speak. You sat back down holding his hands above the table.

“I just got scared Y/N. I love you so much and I just can’t imagine my life without you. I look forward to the future with you, I want you by my side through every single endeavor. You’re my everything. You’re the sun that brightens my day. You’re the stars that shine through my night sky. You’re the air that I breathe. I love you.”

You stood up and pulled him along with you as you both walked out of the cafe. You drove the both of you home and once you entered you led him to the bedroom. Once you entered you undid his work shirt and pants stripping him to his underwear. You led him to the bed and sat him down.

“I never want you to question my love for you ever again.”

You kissed him and placed kisses down his body. Little nibbles along his pecs, a flick of your tongue along his nipples, slow sensual kisses until you reached the waistband of his boxers. You tugged at the waistband and he lifted his hips to help you properly take them off.

His cock slapped against his abdomen. You took it in your hand and gave it a few gentle strokes. You placed featherlight kisses from the head of his cock to the base. You took his head into your mouth swirling your tongue around it and letting it go with a pop.

You took your hand and spit on it using it to lube his cock for you and you started to take more of him into your mouth. His moans and groans filling the room along with the sounds of you gagging yourself on his cock.

When you popped up for air looking at him he could swear he just saw a goddess in front of him. Even with your saliva and tears coating your face he has never seen anyone more beautiful than you. Even Aphrodite herself could not even come close to your beauty.

You got up and stripped off your clothing. You pushed him back gently to lay on the bed as you straddled him aligning his cock with your pussy. You sunk yourself down onto him, he tossed his head back into the bed feeling your warm slick walls welcome him in.

You started moving up and down slowly before gaining a rhythm bouncing on his cock. You moved your upper body close to his grabbing his face and making eye contact.

“I love you—ah fuck—Aoi. I love you so much. You fuck me so good. You are so handsome. Thank you for loving me.”

You felt his arms reach around your waist as planted his feet on the ground to pound into you. Once he started jackhammering into you repeatedly hitting your g-spot you felt yourself cumming around him over and over again.

He used this position to pull as many orgasms as he could from you until he had his own and with how tight you were around him it would be extremely soon. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

“Please cum inside me Aoi, please please please. I need you to fill me up please I need your cum.”

He pulled you down and his hips lifted bottoming out inside you, filling you with his cum. You let your full weight go onto him as you were catching your breath. Hard breaths filled the room. You looked at him and kissed him again.

“I love you Aoi.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

The following week you both moved into your forever home. Todo made dinner and ordered your favorite dessert to celebrate the move. It was also the day that he was going to propose. He knew how much you hated public proposals and receiving unnecessary attention so why not do it at home?

When you were doing the dishes making small conversation on how you saw a documentary about female serial killers he got the ring and went on one knee.

“So all of her victims were just random men who had green eyes, isn’t that—”

“Y/N.”

You turned around and dropped the sponge in your hand. Your jaw drops at the sight of the man you love and the most beautiful ring you have ever seen.

“Y/N, you have made me the happiest man the past year and four months. Time with you has been amazing. You make me feel like I have been floating on air and I never want to come down. I love you so much. Will you continue this journey of life with me, as my wife?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

You bent down to kiss him and he slipped the ring on your left finger. A few seconds later Valerie called, already aware of what Todo was planning to do. You set the date of the wedding six months from the day of the proposal.

The wedding was small and filled with only close friends and family. It was the happiest day of your life and everyone preferred Todo over your ex husband, even your father, who never liked any of your boyfriends.

“I like this guy a lot Y/N, I mean I’ve always liked him.”

“Dad you threatened to hunt him down when we first started dating in high school.”

“Oh honey it’s just dad stuff but that was a promise and it still stands.”

“Dad! He’s not like that, he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world and like I’m a precious gem.”

You both looked over at Todo sharing a dance with your mom and when he looked at you, you could see your future in them. Wherever he would go you would be there beside him as his wife.

“this ring you gave me a few months ago is proof of our love and the ring I gave you on your left ring finger is also proof of my love and dedication to you.” Todo leaned forward and kissed you holding you in his arms.

“I never thought that one person could make me feel so loved and make me feel so much love for them Y/N.”

Now married life was doing the both of you well. Nothing could tear the both of you apart. Not even the news on your one year anniversary that you both were going to have your first child. If Todo felt like he was on cloud nine before then holding your beautiful, healthy son in his arms made him feel he was in seventh heaven.

A/N pt2: thank you all for reading this, I’m really excited about how this work turned out I hope you all enjoyed it. This is by far my longest fic so I really appreciate you reading it through. I have much more on the way, if you have any requests my ask is open! Again thank you so much for reading I appreciate you all! — D <3

#aoi toudou x reader #aoi todo x f!reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #x female reader #tw cheating #tw toxic behavior #tw toxic relationship #tw unprotected sex #Aoi todo smut

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justlightlysedated · 3 years

Note

Soulmate 51!!!

51. Your soulmate’s current thoughts about you will show up on your skin for a short while.

Miss you, miss you, miss you, appears across the back of his left hand, a light tingling sensation like someone was passing their finger across his skin announces their presence just as Michael picks up his beer.

A warmth fuzzy and soft, simmers in the pit of his stomach, and he bites down on the smile that wants to spread across his face.

Instead he drops the beer back on top of the table, and closes his eyes thinking, I miss you, so much more.

When he opens his eyes, feels a little shocked to see Maria sitting across from him.

It had been almost six months since their break up, and with all of the restrictions in place thanks to the quarantine, Michael hadn’t had to try very hard to avoid her.

He hadn’t even heard her truck come up, probably too distracted by Alex. It’s been a while since Michael has fully embraced their soulmate bond, and over the last couple of months he and Alex have been leaving more and more messages on each other, deliberately thinking them at each other.

After hearing Alex sing that song, he couldn’t exactly keep his thoughts to himself, and when he’d run out of the bar, feeling a weird sort of embarrassment at the fact that everyone could see his thoughts spread across the backs of Alex’s hands and up and around his neck, almost like a collar.

Alex hadn’t followed after him, but the words, me too had settled around Michael’s left wrist like a snug bracelet.

"Is there something I can help you with, DeLuca?" He asks, covering the back of his hand with his other hand, almost automatically, so used to keeping the words that had sporadically appeared on his skin while they were dating away from her.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, brow furrowing, and looking a little frustrated, like the conversation isn’t going the way she thought it would.

Michael takes in the way she keeps licking her lips, and her shifty eyes, and her fidgety fingers, and the fact that her leg is bouncing so much the buckle of her boot is hitting the metal legs of the chair.

And then he tilts his head to the side and takes in her outfit, something that he might’ve noticed right off the bat several months ago. She’s wearing one of those short jumper things, that he’s pretty sure he’s heard Isobel call a romper, in a brown color that very nearly matches her own skin tone, the neckline plunges all the way down, exposing a line down the middle of her chest with a thick black belt around her waist. Her hair was left curly and messy, the way that it usually looked in the mornings before she showered and took a straightener to it, the way that Michael used to tell her that he liked it.

She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, but the fact that she is, along with everything else, paints the picture of why she’s here for Michael, and Michael can’t help feeling both incredulous and a little bit angry.

Before he can say anything, Maria pushes her shoulders back, making the slit in the romper widen as she looks at Michael from beneath heavy lids.

"How've you been?" She asks instead of getting to the point. "It's been a while."

And the way she says the last sentence erases any doubts that Michael had in his head.

Maria was here not as an ex who was once a friend to check up on him, but as an ex who wants to keep reaping from the benefits of their failed relationship.

Michael hadn't been lying to Maria when he told her that he loved her, and it had hurt so much when she'd told him that it was over.

But it had hurt even more when Alex had told him that he was leaving, and it was then that Michael realized that while he did love her, he loved Alex more, and in a way that was completely different.

If Maria left today, and didn't talk to him again, Michael would go on living his life, maybe a little sad for a while, but he'd get over it.

If Alex decided to never speak to him again, Michael wouldn't die, but it would feel like he was.

It was that easy and that simple. So it's easy and simple, to grab his beer and take a long swig and then speak.

"I'm doing fine," he says, voice clipped, trying to copy how Alex talks to strangers who won't leave him alone at the bar. "Things are rough, yeah, but that's the same everywhere these days."

"I hear that," Maria says, chuckling a little and then making a hand at his beer. "You're not gonna offer me one?"

"I would," Michael says, taking the last swing of his beer. "If the beer was what you were here for."

Maria raises both eyebrows at that, almost like she hadn't expected to be caught out so soon, or like she'd been expecting for Michael to play along with her.

She tries to pull an innocent face at him, and then sighs, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine, you want the truth? The truth is that it's been months and I am a girl with a healthy sex appetite, okay? And my choices were either going to a super spreader event, the two numbers on my phone that I would consider only under dire circumstances, or someone who wouldn't mind having sex with an ex."

She says the last choice, voice a little breathy and gives him a pointed look that would've worked on him months ago, but it barely makes a flame flicker now.

"When did I ever give you the impression that I wouldn't mind having sex with an ex?" Michael asks, honestly interested in the answer.

Maria gives him an incredulous look back, as though the answer should be obvious, and it hits him almost like a ton of bricks to the solar plexus.

"You're talking about Alex?" He asks, feeling even more incredulous.

"Obviously," she says, and then clears her throat, batting her eyelashes. "I know it's technically not the same thing, but I know you still had feelings for me when we broke up, and breaking up didn't just make my feelings disappear, so I was hoping you wouldn't mind, giving me a helping hand."

"DeLuca," Michael says, trying to sound earnest and kind. "I'm flattered. Really. But the answer is no."

Maria blinks at him a few times like he'd pulled a rabbit out of his hat, "Are you serious?"

She gives him a look like he would be an idiot to reject what she's offering, and there is a small part of him that is yelling at him to take the offer, because sex is sex, but he doesn't listen to that part because there is an even bigger part reminding him that Alex is coming back and that things will be different when he gets here.

"Yeah," Michael says, looking at her evenly.

Her eyes fall away from his face, just as he feels a tingling sensation across his forearm.

Michael lifts his arm to see the words as they appear.

Not possible.

Michael sees her noticing the words that must appear, and her eyebrows almost shoot off her face in her clear surprise.

"So that's why?" She says, sounding like she just figured something out. "You found your soulmate."

"I've known who my soulmate's been for a while now, DeLuca," he says. "Knowing that it was him didn't make it any easier for us to be together."

Maria frowns, "Your soulmate is a guy. But I thought that Alex was the only guy you've ever been interested in."

She says it with conviction like in the months that they dated they talked about their exes, but she never asked, and Michael never brought it up.

"I'm not straight with an Alex exception," Michael says, and he can't help the sneer when she fixes him with an incredulous look. "I'm bisexual, and I've been sexually attracted to and sexually involved with plenty of more men than just Alex."

Maria makes a face at that, like she doesn't understand, but Michael isn't a sex ed teacher, and he's not going to pull up charts and explain to her what she doesn't understand.

"What about Alex?" She asks, looking angrier by the second. "You're going to break his heart with this whole soulmate thing."

"Like you didn't come here with the intention of breaking his heart by propositioning me," Michael retorts.

Maria colors slightly, but doesn't back down.

She opens her mouth to keep speaking, probably to defend herself, but Michael shakes his head a little.

"Listen, Alex has nothing to worry about because he has a direct line to my thoughts about him at all times."

He gives her a pointed look and it still takes her a moment to realize it.

"Alex is your soulmate," she says, sounding both shocked and defeated.

"Yep," Michael says, popping the p, and wishing he still had another beer out here.

"How long have you known?"

"Since we were seventeen," he says and she makes a rude noise at the back of her throat.

She stares at him for a moment, stupefied and angry, "This was never going to actually work between us, huh?"

Michael just licks his lips, and gives her a helpless look, "Some things just aren't meant to be."

She nods her head sharply at that and then gets to her feet.

"Sorry, for bothering you, it won't happen again," she says and then turns to leave before Michael can say anything.

And then turns back around, "And please, don't tell anyone I was here. Me knowing that I fell low enough to do this is more than enough."

And then turns and actually makes it to her truck this time.

Michael lets the icy hurt that spreads across his chest at her parting words slide away.

Instead he looks back down at the words fading on his arm, and lets the warmth of knowing Alex is somewhere else thinking about him and missing Michael as much as Michael misses him, fill him up, chasing the rest of the chill away.

#malexprompts2021 #this one has mentions of miluca #but it's in the past #this fic is pettier than the previous one #its set during the year jump and is maria trying to proposition michael and michael just shutting that shit down #cause maria is way too bitter for someone who was the one who broke up with michael #and so now my own personal headcanon is that she tried to start something up again #and michael was just like nah #anyway hope you like this my love!!#im already halfway done with one of the other ones you sent me 🥰🖤💖👩🏾‍🤝‍👩🏼

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rosepetalmark · 3 years

Text

too soon.

↬ Jung Jaehyun x Reader ↬2.5k Words ↬Warnings: Mentions of alcohol ↬ Got in my feels one night listening to Keshi so this is inspired by his song “2 soon”

It hurt not having you there. After the breakup, which you both decided was amicable, something inside him snapped.

At first, he let the sadness take over him. He knew these were all normal emotions to process once a breakup occurred, so he let himself mourn his loss. Just because you both decided you needed to focus on yourselves and careers, doesn’t mean it didn’t pain him knowing you wouldn’t be the first person he was able to hug when he got home from work, let alone kiss you whenever he looked your way.

Most days he tried to distract himself, divulging himself into non stop practise, trying to work harder for the groups latest comeback, rather than drown in sorrow over his want for you and your relationship.

Weeks had passed, and so did his urge to drink. At first he thought one shot would do, take the edge off and distract him from his thoughts and cheer him up a little, but five more shots later he was dizzy, sad, and still thinking of you.

He reached for his phone several times in that moment, glancing at your name that’s been untouched for almost two months, desperately wanting to call you and ask if you’re doing well. If you miss him. If you still love him and much as he loves you.

But each time he stopped himself, something within his heart knowing that you needed this time to heal as well. Hell, maybe you’ve already healed and want nothing to do with him. But he doesn’t know that, and he doesn’t want to know that. He just wants to be with you.

And he knows this isn’t a healthy mentality to have. You both made it known that his career is at a very pivotal point, and that’s what he needs to be focusing on until he feels he is stable enough in his career to balance both being an idol, and a caring boyfriend to you.

So each time he’s alone and in his thoughts, he gets wasted and cries about how he lost you, and how he wants nothing more than to put his career aside than to be with you. If you ever heard him say those words, he knows you’d be upset, wanting his happiness and career to be put first. It came before you after all, and you never wanted to be the reason for his career ever taking a negative turn.

It wasn’t until he was at a yearly company party SM threw in December to not only celebrate Christmas, but all the successful comebacks and promotions each of their artists have done throughout the majority of the year. They may have worked NCT and Jaehyun to the bone this year, and this was just the slightest form of appreciation they had to offer.

Yuta and Mark were joking about the time Jaehyun snuck you into one of SM’s after parties after the Golden Disk awards last year, focusing more on you than his friends and groupmates, never leaving your side or your lips for the matter; prompting him to drunkenly declare his love for you in front of the dozens of other celebrities surrounded in the same room as you all.

Jaehyun was embarrassed when he remembered the next day, but you on the other hand thought it was sweet. Knowing that he didn’t care what his repercussions were at the moment, only wanting to declare his love for you not only to you, but to those he's closest with and who know how hard it is to find love and maintain it in such a hectic and invasive career.

He got so drunk at this year’s party, that he locked himself in one of the building's bathrooms, tears streaming down his face because he knew the alcohol was not enough. It will never be enough. Alll he wants is you.

Taking his phone out of his jacket pocket, he scrolled down to your name, and pressed “Call”. Knowing it was a long shot that you’d answer, considering you don’t have to associate with him if you didn’t want to, along with the fact that it was shortly after 1am, with you probably being fast asleep.

With just two rings in, a soft “Hello” came from his speaker, nothing that you did in fact answer and were awake.

“Hi.” Was all he managed to speak out, soft hiccups emerging from his throat, his cheeks getting hotter by the second as he doesn’t know what he’s going to say to you, let alone what you’re going to say back to him.

“Are you okay Jaehyun? It’s 1am.”

Wiping his tears, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t outright blurt out everything he was thinking and feeling the past few months, not wanting to scare you away from the intense emotions he was feeling as of late.

“I don’t think I am.” He spoke softly, loosening his tie as it was constricting him from breathing properly through his intense tears.

“I miss you, like a lot.” He said between gulps, trying to calm down but his hiccups having other plans for him. “And I know we said this was for the best, but us breaking up has been eating me alive and I can’t stop thinking about you and us and it just really sucks.”

“It’s been two months Jaehyun.” You say, not knowing exactly how to process how he’s feeling. “Why didn’t you call me earlier if everything’s been bothering you so much?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I wanted to give you space and let you live your life without coming off as some pathetic loser who needs you all the time.”

“Well, you’re not a pathetic loser, Jung Jaehyun. You’re a human being who lives a hectic life, one with feelings who deserves to feel and process and be comforted whenever something’s going on in your life. Don’t ever feel bad about it.”

Processing your voice, Jaehyun couldn’t help feel the comfort and peace that flowed through his body whenever you spoke to him. You always knew what to say, and even when you didn’t, your presence was just as reassuring.

“I miss you too, by the way.”

“You do?” He cries, trying his best to wipe his tears while maintaining his attention on your voice. “I thought if I called and you heard me like this you’d for sure be happy we broke up.”

“Breakups are painful Jaehyun. I can’t even imagine how you feel because I know you don’t have many people to talk about things so it must hurt to bottle things up.”

Which was true. Jaehyun kept your relationship a secret for six months before even letting his managers know, slowly waiting for the company’s okay with your relationship, but not wanting for it to be public. He never wanted to do that to you, hound you with the harassment and chaos that came attached to an idol. It was already bad enough when two idols dated, let alone when one dated a non- celebrity, fans worked even harder to learn everything and anything they could, potentially harming anyone at hand.

Jaehyun first told Johnny when you two started dating, the smirk on his face never once fading whenever the mention of you came up. The rest of the members slowly began to find out, each congratulating him that he finally found someone who made him smile, and wasn’t with him because he was famous. Anyone he attempted dating in the past either wanted him for his fame, or was someone in the industry who wouldn’t shut up about the industry.

Dating you was like a breath of fresh air, because compared to his hectic life, you were just a regular, comforting human being. You worked a part time job at the mall, attended university and were studying to be a social worker, and had a great obsession with baking banana bread.

Whenever Jaehyun was with you, you reminded him of what it’s like to be a normal human being, not an idol stripped of all his talent, time, and energy to make a company even more rich and successful than they already were.

And it wasn’t to say you lived a boring life, but compared to him everything you’ve done and experienced was so mundane. Nothing made Jaehyun happier than when he showed you the tiny details that go on in an idols life, such as where he practises, to where he and the rest of NCT record their songs, even taking you behind the stages of award shows and comeback stages-wanting you to see the full effect and experience up close, rather than on a tv or in a dressing room away from all the magic.

You were the clarity and compassion in Jaehyun’s life and it absolutely shattered him whenever you were unable to be with him when your lives and commitments came first.

When you both decided it was necessary for you to break up, Mark was the first person who found out. Jaehyun entered the dorm quietly, his cap covering his eyes and mask slightly rising up the bridge of his nose, only exposing about a centimetre of his face.

Mark knew better than to ask what was wrong, as past experiences with Jaehyun being angry never ended too well, so he gave him some space. But three days after entering the dorm pissed off and not leaving his room once, Mark took it upon himself to check up on him, only to find him curled up in a ball on his bed sobbing, discovering that you two broke up and clearly he wasn’t taking it well.

It took him about 6 days before he left his bed to finally shower and eat something that wasn’t a granola bar or cereal stashed in his room or brought in by Mark, and 9 days for him to finally tell everyone why he was so distant and upset.

Obviously, everyone was saddened that you wouldn’t be spending time with them anymore, but ultimately were hurting for Jaehyun as well, as they knew you meant a great deal to him, and losing you meant losing all the plans and dreams he had for wanting to marry you one day.

Obviously not in the near future, but in around 5 years, when you were well out of school and had a full time job, and when Nct was well off enough to not be promoting as often as they had their first several years as a group; only ever promoting or touring for a portion of the year, rather than having breaks for a few weeks every few months.

It took all the strength in Jaehyun’s body not to call you every night after you broke up, but clearly that did not work because here he was, unfortunately consumed by alcohol he used to help cope with the pain for the past several weeks, drunk and sobbing to you.

“It’s just been really hard. I know we said it’s for the best but I hate not having you in my life. I miss going for food with you at 2am when you’re stressed about your assignments. I miss giving you long hugs when we go long periods of time without seeing each other and- fuck! I just am so in love and want to be with you the rest of my life and I hate how I let myself become so attached to you and this relationship but I cannot go on knowing there’s a chance you’re going to fall in love with someone one day and I won’t be that man marrying you or being the father of your children or holding you when you’ve had a hard day.”

“Wow, you’re really drunk.” You say, hugging your pillow to your chest because no one has ever uttered such raw, loving words to you before and you cannot help but fight off the urge to cry because you too, want that life for the both of you one day.

“Yeah I know. I’m surprised I said all that right now because I’ve been fighting the urge to call you every night because I wanted to give you space.”

“I want all that with you, Jaehyun. I want us to get married and have three kids and two dogs and I want you to help teach them all how to read and for them to make you play dress up with them and have tea parties and make sand castles. I’m still in love with you and always will be so please don’t be sorry or surprised you’re feeling this way because we both know we deserve to be with each other.”

“I want you so much.”

“Do you want me to come see you? Just so we can talk and I can make sure you’re doing okay?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I get if it feels weird or it’s too late.” He didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything, especially the need to take care of him when he’s drunk and sad and completely in love with you. You’re not his babysitter, nor his girlfriend for the matter- you are not inclined to care for him or even see him because he’s a mess.

But you still want to. Because even though you haven’t spoken in weeks, you know that Jaehyun is the love of his life, and hearing him be so sad and lonely is more than heartbreaking. It’s complete agony.

“Nothing is too late or too weird when it comes to you. I want to hug you and never let you go and tuck you in bed and make sure you’re safe and happy when you go to bed.”

“I’ll meet you back at my dorm if that’s okay? If I’m at this party any longer I’ll go absolutely insane.”

“I’ll see you there, Jaehyun. Please be safe and text me when you leave.”

“Of course, anything for you. And thank you, for even just listening. You’re an angel and I can’t wait to see you in a few minutes.” He chimed, shortly ending the call after he said those last statements to you.

Jaehyun doesn’t know for certain where his future with you stands, but he’s okay with that. He’s seeing you soon, and you just confessed that you’re still in love with him and want a future with him, and that’s all he needs.

His conversation with you managed to clear his mind and body out of the abundance of alcohol that once consumed him, his attention and newfound excitement now focused solely on seeing you, touching you, just being with you. He quickly ordered himself a cab, not even saying goodbye to his members, beyond ecstatic to be within your presence.

And for now, that’s all he could ever ask for.

#nct imagines #nct smut #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun

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shortstirrups · 2 years

Text

the last time i posted anything on this sideblog i was 16 and only rode in a riding school. it was still a pretty far-off dream to actually have my own horse. i'm not under any delusions anyone still follows this - i abandoned it a long time ago. so this will just be a confessional, of sorts. an essay, probably.

i'm 24 now and have had my own horse since 17. she's been amazing and challenging and both wholly unsuitable and one of the best horses i've ever sat on. i've still never competed, i still would love to.

i haven't ridden her properly since june 2020, nearly two years ago. she's had lameness issues in pretty much every leg at this point, and has basically become my very oversized vegetarian dog. i spent most of the three years before fleur's lameness 100 miles away at university and nearly half of that unable to put my feet in stirrups due to chronic tendonitis in my lower legs, and i regret not being able to have that time.

in october 2021 i sat on her for five minutes bareback to check her soundness before she span, bolted, and bucked me off. i only fell onto arena surface, but i landed on my head and the fall was so hard that i dislocated my shoulder, likely my jaw too, and i was so concussed i ended up going to hospital twice. i was diagnosed with post concussion syndrome and later a gaze instability. my head injury has triggered migraines so painful that nothing will touch them. i have so much fatigue, have headaches on a daily basis, and i struggle even to see friends for half a day. i have been told i cannot afford to get another head injury within a year of this one. it has been six months and they have advised i wait another six to ride anything more than a walk.

i am both desperate to ride again and terrified of getting another injury like this.

i think my outlook on horse ownership has changed a lot due to our combined injuries, but i'm still a little heartbroken over it - all that lost time, all the possibilities we might be losing from our future. but i look at her in the field, happy and healthy and sound for that much at least, and it's enough. being with her still brings me that meditative kind of peace that you can't find anywhere else, my heart still leaps when she calls to me across the stableyard, and that's enough. it's not enough for who i used to be, but it can be enough for who i have to be now.

i look at how ambitious i used to be, how focused on my improvement, and i miss it. i think somewhere in between then and now i became so ruled by anxiety that i lost that. i miss how fearless i used to be, i miss jumping, i miss those horses, because i loved them too even if they weren't mine.

it's heartbreaking to read back over posts i made about lessons on those horses that i loved, most of whom i've not seen in seven or eight years, some of whom i now know had died (i will always miss them. always. especially my big grey boy). that's the worst part of riding horses who belong to schools, i think. the not knowing what happens to them after they leave, or you leave, or one day when you turn up and they are gone without mention.

i wish so much that I had been able to provide a home for so many of them who gave me so much solace and safety and joy, whose years ended without the dignity of a happy retirement with friends in fields. but i think that's part of being an equestrian, too. the inevitable grief and the regret are all rolled up in you, but they make you determined to do better. to be better.

it has made me determined that fleur's home will always be with me, no matter what. i will never leave her to uncertainty or to the whims of others. i have owned her for half her life now, the longest of any of her owners, and it is with me that she will end her days, hopefully many years down the line, in comfort and security and having known a good life.

enjoy it all while you have it - life is full of so many turns and your circumstances and abilities can change in seconds.

there is still so much beauty and joy and peace to be found in horses when you cannot ride or when they are old or can't maintain a career. still so much learning that they can teach you. but i know it's hard to find while you're in the thick of it, when you're being told it wouldn't be safe for you to ride for a year or maybe even ever or if your vet is saying your horse will likely never be competitive or may never be rideable again. if you're going through that, i'm so sorry. it's one of the most heartbreaking periods of my life that i've ever experienced. you'll make it through. it won't always be winter and mud and heartbreak forever.

the grass grows and the sun shines and there is always a future, even if it doesn't look like the one you planned.

and maybe this is just for me, really. a private letter of encouragement. it's okay to grieve. you will find contentment and even joy again. time marches onward and drags us all with it, and while that can be an agony, it is also a blessing.

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onetwothreefarkle · 3 years

Text

you said forever (now I drive alone past your street)

So this is just...very angsty and I wrote it late at night. As the title suggests it’s inspired by drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo

Summary: He’s already shed too many tears for Carlos.

Seb ends up on Carlos’s street almost by accident. He’s not thinking about where he’s going until he’s in front of the big, somewhat ostentatious abode that the Rodriguezes used to call home. His chest aches as he drives past, memories flooding his mind.

“I only have my driver’s license for tractors.”

“What are you going to do when you get your real driver’s license?”

Seb grinned. “Drive to your house instead of taking the bus, obviously.”

Carlos laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Can’t wait.”

Seb drives around the block again. He’s not going to cry, he thinks. He’s already shed too many tears for Carlos. He sniffs, gripping the steering wheel tightly. It’s been six months since Carlos left and took Seb’s heart with him. Maybe Seb should be over it by now. Kourtney seems to think so, at least. But Seb’s not sure. Carlos was his first love, and isn’t first love forever?

No matter if it’s healthy or normal, he knows a part of him is going to be in love with Carlos until the day he dies. No matter how far away Carlos is now. No matter how long it’s been. Carlos is etched onto his bones, and he’s known it for the past nine months. Ever since Carlos put an expiration date on their love.

“I’m moving,” Carlos said, as they walked up the street towards his house, hand in hand.

“Moving?” Seb’s stomach dropped. “Like—to a new house like Ricky did?”

“To Europe.” Carlos’s voice was barely a whisper.

“E-Europe?” Seb choked out, now frozen in place, already feeling his chest constricting.

“My parents want to expand their company internationally,” Carlos continued. “We’re leaving after Christmas.”

“Carlos, I…” Seb didn’t know what to say. How could he? He’d never had a boyfriend move away before.

“I know.” Carlos put his hand over Seb’s and squeezed gently. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.”

Seb parks in front of Carlos’s house just as he feels himself break. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he rests his forehead against the steering wheel and lets his shoulders heave with sobs. God, he’s pathetic. He should listen to Kourtney and just move on. Carlos clearly has. Seb was stupid to think otherwise, to think that Carlos truly meant the beautiful words he’d sung that night sophomore year.

Seb hadn’t been enough, in the end. Carlos’s social media is proof enough of that, or at least it was. Admittedly, he hasn’t checked Carlos’s Instagram page in two months. It wasn’t doing anything but making him bitter. Because as many tears as Seb shed for Carlos, the other boy seemed totally fine. His Instagram was full of smiles and exciting places and people, because of course it was. Seb knew the minute Carlos told him he was leaving that Carlos was going to forget about him. After all, he’s just a kid from a farm on the outskirts of Salt Lake.

That’s why he had to let Carlos go

“I don’t want you to leave,” Seb told him.“I’m going to miss you so much.” They were sitting in the barn, wrapped up in each other’s arms, keeping warm in the cold December air.

“Not half as much as I’m going to miss you,” Carlos responded, voice dull and sad.

“The time zone thing is going to be so hard,” Seb continued. “But we can make it work, right?”

“About that,” Carlos pulled away slightly. “I don’t know how to say it.”

Seb gave his hand a squeeze. “Just say it.”

“I don’t want to do long distance.”

Seb froze. “What, uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean, long distance is so hard a-and what if we mess it up?” Carlos shook his head, tears pooling under his glasses. “I don’t want us to start resenting each other. I can’t lose what we have.”

“You don’t think we can do it?” Seb found himself crying, too. “You don’t believe in us?”

“I…” Carlos wiped at his tears. “I don’t know.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I love you so much, Seb,” Carlos sniffed. “And I know you love me. I just…I don’t know if we will after so much time apart. We’re going to grow in different directions and isn’t it better to save ourselves a messy breakup later? Isn’t it better to keep what we have good and unbroken?”

Seb didn’t say anything for a minute. He thought about Carlos traveling around Europe and meeting all kinds of exciting people, while he was left behind in Salt Lake. And he didn’t put up a fight. “Okay.” He finally said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I really do love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They held each other for a long time that night, kissed each other desperately. Seb had long since memorized the touch of Carlos’s hands and the taste of his lips, but that night he memorized them again.

Seb wipes his eyes and attempts to pull himself together. He still has to drive home, after all. He spares one last glance towards the west side of the house. There’s still a trellis up against the wall, right under one of the windows. Seb used to climb up that trellis and sneak into Carlos’s bedroom at night, or really anytime he didn’t want his parents to know he had a boy in his room. Kourtney called them Romeo & Romeo when she found out about it.

Seb’s chest aches for those days, when everything was simple and easy and he was stupid enough to think they would be together forever. He wishes he could turn back time, if only for a moment, just to feel that happy again. His phone chimes with a text alert. Most likely his mother, asking him to come home.

He takes a deep breath, wipes the last of his tears, and starts the car.

#HSMTMTS #seblos #seblos fic #seblos drabble #Seb Matthew-Smith #Carlos Rodriguez #read this if you want to be sad #my fan fiction

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oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

Text

Sick Day

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Word count: 2270

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Jackson stays home sick (and not very willingly lol)

[ 6:00 am ]

Soft gray light seeps around the curtains as you ease into wakefulness. You stretch your arms over your head, finally registering the chime of your alarm. But when you roll over to turn it off, you stop, a mere inch between your nose and Jackson’s back.

You frown at him, not that he can tell, since he’s not supposed to be there. He should be at the gym, or practice, or wherever the hell he needs to be after his ungodly alarm goes off every morning. Baffled, you poke his shoulder. “Jackson?” He groans, and your frown deepens. You sit up, leaning over him, “Are you alright? Is your schedule cancelled?” You squeeze his arm gently to elicit a response.

Jackson cracks his eyes open to look at you, blinking rapidly. Then suddenly his eyes are comically wide and he’s not sliding but falling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. “Shit, I’m late,” he says hoarsely.

You sit there, still a bit shocked and not a little groggy, and try to make sense of things. Then you get your act together and go to turn on the coffee machine. When you pop your head in the bathroom, you find Jackson squinting at his phone, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth. You hip-check him out of the way as you grab your own brush. “Stop getting distracted if you’re running late,” you mumble around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Jackson starts to respond automatically, and you choke on a laugh as toothpaste dribbles down his chin. This, of all things, seems to cause a Jackson malfunction. He stops there, blinking at his minty goatee in the mirror. With a sigh, you spit and go to help him, taking the toothbrush away before he drops it. You cup his cheek while you wipe off the mess with a damp washcloth, but then you frown, placing the back of your hand on his forehead. “Holy—Jackson, you’re burning up,” you exclaim. You take his face between your hands and stare him down. “Talk to me. What’s going on, how do you feel?”

He just blinks for a moment, before shaking his head. “I just had a headache is all. Snoozed the alarm. I’m totally fine, I just need to get to the studio for practice.”

“Jackson, how do you feel?” you repeat, holding him still. You sneak a glance at his phone, still unlocked to show you his recent search for natural headache remedies.

He looks sheepish now, “Well, my head hurts.”

You raise one eyebrow at him. “You don’t say. What else?”

He groans, dropping his face in his hands. “I’m fine, I promise. Just a headache.”

“If that’s all it is, take some pain meds and get out,” you challenge him, folding your arms in what you hope is an intimidating stance. You know bullshit when you hear it.

Somehow the pose works. That, or Jackson vividly remembers how you chewed him out for lying and threatened to roast him alive if he ever tried it again. “My throat hurts a bit, and I’m definitely a bit congested. All I need is some tea and a mask and I’ll be fine,” he starts, but stops just as quickly when your glare intensifies.

You rummage around in the closet and find a thermometer, which confirms your suspicions: a fever. “Back in bed after you finish brushing, or I’m withholding any and all sexy activities for a month,” you threaten him into compliance. And you would absolutely uphold that threat, because you know Jackson. He’s always hounding you to stay healthy, but is a definite member of the “do as I say, not as I do” camp of idiots. If you don’t lay down the law now, he’ll continue working himself to death, and then he’ll really be in trouble. Plus he’ll end up getting the other boys sick, and Jackson is enough of a handful on his own without six other boys moaning and groaning.

In the kitchen, you gulp coffee while boiling some water for tea. Your fingers fly, tapping out a message to Jaebeom, knowing he’ll pass along the message.

Jackson’s an idiot and he’s sick, if anyone asks him to come to practice I’ll end them.

Then to Jinyoung:

Can you check on Jackson this afternoon? I have to go to work, but would love it if you could make sure he’s still breathing (and hasn’t tried to leave the apartment). I made kimchi jjigae last night, so there’s leftovers if you want some ❤️

Your phone pings with two positive responses right away, and you nod to yourself. Then you pour a good spoonful of honey in the mug, grab cold medicine, and bring both to Jackson. “Drink this, take this, and go to sleep,” you say, shoving the mug in his hands. “There’s clementines on the counter, plus leftover soup in the fridge. Call me if you need me, especially if you start to feel any worse. Jinyoung will stop by around lunch, and I’ll be back from work in time for dinner. Text me your dumb loopy fever thoughts, okay?” You finally take a breath after spouting off instructions. You’re worried, but now you’re running late. And if he takes a turn for the worse, you can call out of work for the rest of the day.

Jackson just smiles up at you, and you roll your eyes. You can’t help but smile at your precious idiot—he’s already fever loopy. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more.” You press your lips to the top of his head, then dash to the closet to change into your work clothes.

Even though it’s possibly the fastest strip show in history, Jackson wolf whistles between sips of tea. You chuckle, jiggling yourself into a pair of pants, and he grins shamelessly.

“Ok, I’m off,” you mutter, collecting various odds and ends and cursing to yourself because you’ve definitely forgotten something.

Jackson calls your name as you start to close the bedroom door, and you turn back. His smile softens, and you swear there are hearts in his eyes. “I love you most.”

This time, you really do laugh, and you blow him a kiss goodbye. He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot.

[ 11:39 am ]

You knew he was going to text you incessantly throughout the day, despite any good intentions, if only because Jackson was not well equipped to be stuck inside an empty apartment all day. Especially when he wasn’t feeling well. At least the texts waited until around ten, when you assume he woke up again. You’d kept an eye out for any bad updates, but hadn’t seen anything to worry you.

After back-to-back meetings, you finally sign off and take a minute to scroll through the memes, YouTube videos, and more. Fortunately, your phone was on silent, because he’d sent you half the internet. The spam tells you he feels okay, all things considered.

I miss you already. I’ve gone through all of your Spotify playlists and now I’m bored

I would spam you with bad jokes, but those don’t work over text

Why don’t we have a dog? Can you bring me a dog on your way home from work?

Why won’t the guys text me back...did you THREATEN THEM? BABEEEEE

Babe

BABE

BABY COME BACK

YOU CAN BLAME IT ALL ON MEEEEE

...princess please answer me I’m dying and I have no one

You can’t stop the smile, knowing he’s doing his best to keep you from worrying, but also that he’s probably stir crazy. You quickly tap out a response:

I’m glad you’re feeling better, or at least pretending. Tell me if you feel worse. Are you drinking water?

He sends you a selfie of him guzzling the glass you left for him. And finally stops texting, which makes you chuckle. A glance at the clock tells you a special visitor should be arriving soon, so you turn back to your computer to get some more work done.

Within fifteen minutes, your phone buzzes again. Jinyoung’s update is quick and to the point: a photo of an exhausted Jackson nearly falling asleep in his soup. That’s enough to send you over the edge, and you laugh out loud, regardless of the thin office walls.

[ 5:49 pm ]

You lock the door behind and toe off your shoes, then pad into the kitchen. You’d stopped by the store on your way home, picking up cold medication and a few ingredients for dinner. Jackson gives you the scare of your life, when you round the corner and find him slumped over the counter.

“Jackson!” you gasp, nearly dropping the shopping bags.

He mumbles incoherently, lifting his head and blinking blearily at you. “Hi princess,” he says with a weak smile.

Now you do drop the bags and round the counter to reach him. You press the back of your hand to his forehead. “Still burning up,” you mutter. “Jackson, why didn’t you call me? And Jinyoung didn’t say you were this miserable.”

He shakes his head at you, hair falling limp over his forehead. “I’m just tired. Apparently I took a nap after he left,” he says sheepishly. Your frown deepens. “It’s just a cold,” he tries to reassure you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you go back to the grocery bags and retrieve the cold medication. “I’ll make dinner and you can go right back to bed, okay? Drink some more water.”

Jackson obeys your gruff instructions, sitting and sipping water while you throw ingredients together for a quick stew. He tries to offer to do the dishes, but you shoo him off for a hot shower. But he doesn’t reach your limit of irritating until he tries to convince you to sleep in the bed while he takes the couch.

“Should I move out? That’s the only way I can be sure I won’t get sick,” you tell him, hands on your hips as you stare him down. Jackson reluctantly puts his pillow back on the bed, prompting you to grab your own, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Now Jackson is the one rolling his eyes. You huff out a laugh and watch his lips twitch, trying to hold back his smile. “I just worry about you,” he says softly.

You can’t stay mad at that face. Dropping the pillow, you sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside you. When Jackson plops down, you bump your shoulder into his. “I wish you would worry about yourself more.”

He knows what you’re getting at. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation—in the beginning, they were pretty fierce arguments. The two of you are both stubborn, leading to stalemates more often than not. Convincing Jackson to put his health before his work was one of those standoffs.

Jackson doesn’t say anything, but he bumps your shoulder back, so you know the message was received. You smile at him, then poke his side playfully. “I already told Jaebeom you’d be taking tomorrow off.”

He groans, falling back on the bed and throwing an arm across his face. “I can’t afford to miss practice. Comeback is only a few weeks away and—”

“And nothing. You stay home until the fever is gone for twenty-four hours. Or I’m taking you to the doctor, and they’ll tell you worse.”

He simply groans like the drama king he is, and you laugh while you take a blanket and pillow to the couch.

[ 7:24 am ]

You’re dragged into wakefulness by a crick in your neck, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose. You groan, dragging one hand down your face in defeat. Jackson wasn’t going to let this one go...you were in for an earful. Rolling off the couch, you sniffle your way through your morning routine. By the time you’ve called out of work, taken some cold medication, and sat down with your coffee, Jackson is also awake.

He does a double-take when he sees you, “Wait, shouldn’t you be at work by now?”

You grumble, sure he’s figured it out but wants to drive the point home. “I’m sick.”

“I guess you should’ve moved out then,” he jokes, but his expression has never been more serious. It feels like deja-vu, only Jackson is the one checking your temperature and muttering about tea.

“It’s fine, I’ve self medicated like a grown-up,” you say with a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “And I have coffee, go get yourself some tea.”

Ten minutes later, you’re staring down at a horrible green concoction. “Jackson, I’m sorry, but what fresh hell is this?”

“Fruit, vegetables, and whatever else I could find in the fridge. I didn’t put chicken in there, don’t worry. I know how you feel about my shakes.”

You eye him up and down. He doesn’t look much better than yesterday. “You drink it. You need to get your strength back for practice.” Jackson pouts at you, and that’s when you figure it out. “It’s not your fault I’m sick,” you tell him.

He scoffs, “Yes it is.”

You resist the urge to throw something at him. Lovingly, of course. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then.”

“Fine. But you’re drinking this,” he fires back.

You wince, peering into the cup again. You’re not sure you can trust his ingredient list. “Split it?” you ask, wearing your most angelic smile.

Jackson squirms away from you in fake disgust, “I can’t, there’s cooties!” Then he ducks to avoid the pillow you hurl at him.

* * * * *

Masterlist

#jackson wang #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang imagine #jackson wang imagines #got7 jackson #got7 #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #jackson wang x reader #jackson x reader #jackson

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

************************

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months. Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.”

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically, and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst

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