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#I tried... SO HARD to get over the things that triggered me and hurt me but I just couldn't...

rowarn · 5 months

Text

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed.

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off.

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself. Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of.

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in.

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting.

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously.

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator.

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that.

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now.

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it.

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone.

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation.

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out.

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed.

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that.

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders.

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom.

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent.

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape.

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed.

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14.

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine.

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered.

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well.

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual.

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver.

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called.

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious.

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that.

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away.

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around.

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them.

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving.

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned.

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet.

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar.

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together.

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky.

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself.

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better.

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching.

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication.

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit.

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself.

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall.

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate.

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore.

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready.

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life.

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not.

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar.

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar.

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread.

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with.

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you.

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work.

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted.

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly.

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be.

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell.

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell.

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name.

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them.

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray.

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes.

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation.

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads.

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong.

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face.

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face.

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state.

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them.

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply.

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious.

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker.

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone.

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open.

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again.

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out.

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one.

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it.

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon.

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table.

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door.

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath.

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time.

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back.

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling.

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you.

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips.

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap.

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table.

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street.

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots.

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep.

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated.

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad.

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands.

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off?

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.”

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself.

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known.

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave.

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response.

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained.

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom.

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements.

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly.

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance.

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young.

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother.

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked.

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that.

You never brought it up again.

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since.

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen.

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup.

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat.

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands.

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself.

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light.

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work.

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?”

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon.

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms.

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him.

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor.

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch.

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen.

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond.

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved.

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking.

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things.

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big.

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built.

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue.

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred.

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back.

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing.

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them.

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken.

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut.

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up.

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought.

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk.

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it.

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly.

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you.

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan.

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place.

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes.

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that.

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him.

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed.

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day.

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass.

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry.

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all.

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you.

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder.

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much.

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever.

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse.

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger.

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there.

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you.

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life.

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately.

You wish that he loved you.

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep.

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you.

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight.

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you.

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him.

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry.

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts.

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it.

Then you do it again. And again. And again.

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek.

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise.

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness.

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room.

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing.

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping.

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave.

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him.

God, you hate him.

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway.

He wanders further into the room before pausing.

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you.

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy.

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like.

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red.

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you.

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious.

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him.

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now.

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable.

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too.

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room.

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself.

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!��

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck.

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that.

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door.

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it.

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit.

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares.

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you.

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him.

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls.

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you.

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise.

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness.

You cry all the time. Day and night.

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him.

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid.

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on.

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome.

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore.

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month.

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear.

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to.

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope.

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar.

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is.

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back.

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it.

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.”

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking.

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself.

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in.

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel.

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day.

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold.

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time.

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left.

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet.

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself.

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope.

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep.

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do.

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake.

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever.

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it.

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open.

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else.

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway.

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat.

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room.

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him.

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was.

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go.

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed.

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go.

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds.

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach.

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap.

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed.

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it.

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat.

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged.

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done.

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen.

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well.

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls.

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone.

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread.

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over.

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even.

His words ring out through your head like a bell.

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash.

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts.

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again.

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time.

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away.

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now.

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on.

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.”

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it.

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is.

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees.

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly.

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes.

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you.

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself.

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place.

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more.

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response.

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again.

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air.

You love him, you really do.

But you’re still so angry at him.

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly.

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?”

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto.

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?”

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated, sad and utterly confused.

You wished he would stop leaving.

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait.

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has.

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep.

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague.

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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suguru-getos · 5 months

Text

jjk men as the type of yanderes:

characters included: gojo, geto, yuta, megumi, sukuna

gojo satoru:

yandere tendency: manipulative, overpowered, soft.

gojo satoru is the type of yandere who will be fine with most of your antics. his little baby trying so hard to annoy him? how absolutely adorable of her. the thing is, he also knows he is too powerful for you and that subjecting you to that power is going to have consequences. he's always kind, nice, happy-go-lucky around you. he tries to take the subtle route, ask you out for dates and stuff but he lacks patience. he has so much love to offer he can't wait for you to reciprocate. he would eventually just kidnap you. however you get everything you want and need. he wouldn't even take your phone away, just don't talk to men and don't even… dare. to talk. about. leaving him. that triggers him. the only time he has been truly, unforgiving and blinding hot with his rage was when you fled away from the gojo estate. you saw him dancing around in the sky, floating with a maniacal grin as you tried to hide amongst the flooded trees in the estate where he just chanted. "no matter where you go, I will find you always, come out on your own and you won't see daddy's punishments." he meant it, and you didn't have the guts to disobey him. like a squeaky, meek rat, you came out from under one of the trees, satoru in front of you looking down with gritted jaw. "haven't I given you enough?" his hold on your jaw is firm as he picks you up, tosses you over his shoulder and walks back to the estate. his coldness is difficult to handle since he's always simping around you, but let's say you needed to re-assure him that you wouldn't leave by giving him your first kiss. he doesn't really do forcing but you'd much rather have the old satoru back. this one has trust issues and this one knows how to manipulate you. "you know one of these days you'd make me so angry I kill everyone you hold dear princess. it wouldn't be something I would want to do… but I- i- just lose control." scary, nice, and ever so kind and manipulative>

geto suguru:

yandere tendency: hot and cold, gaslighting, extremely loving.

suguru is simple and patient. as long as you are in front of his eyes he does not mind anything at all. however, there are times when his carefully twisted smile turns into a frown whenever you disobey him. suguru is good to you when you are good to him. if you do not listen to him then there are punishments for everything. maybe you wouldn't get to talk to your friends for a week. "you don’t deserve me being so kind when all you do is hurt me." suguru knows how to bend you to his will, when you get rebellious over it and ex: stop eating food, he does not have any problem forcing food down your throat by keeping one of his curses latched to your body. what else can you do? vomit it out?? out of sheer spite?? suguru geto has a solution for everything. if you do so, he's going to pretend he's surrendering, hold you in his arms and be so kind as if he's so guilty for making 'you' act up. if only he'd been good enough yeah? then you wouldn't be so rebellious. he's going to be so good, show his true devotion to you. aw? why're you crying? he's just trying to make you cum! over and over and over! hey! it’s just body worship. don't squirm away angel… at the end of it you're a sobbing, overstimulated mess and bent down to his will. suguru can make punishments sexual because he's delusional enough to think that giving you painful pleasure is not equal to hurting you. he would give you so much aftercare though, call you perfect, call you a champion for dealing with it, give you body massages, if you really don't bend to his will… he's manipulative enough to kneel down and stain your thighs with his tears as he leans his head on your thigh and mumbles how sorry he truly feels.

yuta okkutsu:

yandere tendency: too nice, forgiving, delusional.

yuta knows being couped up like this does not feel nice. he calls you his little hummingbird. because you sound so adorable begging and screaming to be freed. if only he could do that. "the world outside is really bad baby, I'm sure you don't know that and I'm so glad you don't. I will make sure you wouldn't know anything about it as well." he has you on his lap, forcing a hug and tearing up whenever you resist. his heart gets instantly broken when you resist his affections though. that… makes him extremely dramatic. why would you do that to him? hasn't he been nice? yuta would never willingly, knowingly hurt you. never… but accidents happen okay? especially when someone loves you so much, then the betrayal also brings the worst emotions there is. he would 'accidentally' break your wrist by holding you too tight when you're squirming away, would accidentally cause you dizzy spells by kissing you too hard. you're just so delectable and so easily broken how can someone like him keep steady? after the accidents happen yuta changes, he almost goes… distant. as if he does not trust himself around you. around his precious little baby… until it re-starts all over again. however, he does have a stern belief that you love him too. you're just too shy to accept. his beautiful, shy little thing.

fushiguro megumi:

yandere tendency: stern, disciplining, in-control

fushiguro is no stranger to the twisted feeling that brims within the depths of his heart whenever he sees you. but he also knows that it would be futile to expect you to feel the same. he knows he needs to earn it. but god- when you love someone else already? why did you have to do that? can't you really see you were meant for him? the logical part him tries to overpower the illogical, love-sick version and fantasy of you taking his cock and belly full with his kids but falls in vain. megumi really is sorry… when he strangles your partner to death in front of you. he really does not want you to see it, but then how else will he show you what he is capable of? what he can do if you do not listen to him? he lets you take your space after and grieve in his bedroom, which is now your shared bedroom. the first few weeks, you're too terrified of him to not listen to him. however… he doesn't even touch you. you just have a few set of rules. eat on time, sleep on time, come to him for anything and forget about everything except him. he would sit beside you and run his hands through your hair, soothing you through the breakdowns. "I will tolerate this for as long as you need, but do know… that man is dead for a reason. no person in love with you is allowed to live. except me." megumi is almost unhinged with his feelings and there would be repercussions. for example: you said you would rather die than love him? how can you say that? have you seen the future? no right? then how could you say that? nothing breaks a brat better than some spanking. the humiliation intermingled with the pain is sure to set you straight. and yes- it does. at the end of it, you're too bent to his will, seeking comfort from him as you cry out against his chest and he softly coos sweet nothings against your ear.

ryomen sukuna:

yandere tendency: sadistic, lethal, manipulative, selfish

half of the time, sukuna does not acknowledge that he has fallen for a human. you're torn with the king of curses fighting with his own self, and still keeping you close. sukuna does not show affection normally. he is the master of evil, the pure reincarnation of all the negativity. at first he would keep you with him. his true form is too big and too scary for you to retaliate either. you just need to be a puppet. he hates and loves it how you are so teeny tiny compared to him. a feeble little human, his little lamb. he often threatens you with pure violence. he would rip a finger out and heal you with reversed curse techniques since he does not like his masterpiece broken. rules are simple: you do what sukuna sama desires and what sukuna sama wants. otherwise- you suffer the punishments. there are times where he had been cruel enough to eat your past relationships in front of you, alive, the sound of gnawing at flesh as he consumes them while the high adrenaline keeping them alive is your worst nightmare. you are allowed to throw up, it is a gory sight of course. but then you must apologize for being filthy in front of your master by sitting on both his cocks. very unhinged, the scariest yandere in the jjk-verse imo.

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forever-rogue · 4 months

Note

Hi! If you’re taking requests then can I please ask for you to write a Joel x Reader one where Joel and Reader have been dating for a long time and are now finally happily living in Jackson (with Ellie), and it was all going fine until Joel’s PTSD is randomly triggered and he accidentally hurts Reader when she touches him as a way to check on him and offer him comfort like she normally would do during one of his panic attacks?

Like maybe they’re at a family bbq (with Tommy and his wife) or the bar or even at their own home when something — whether it be a certain sound, smell, word, etc. — triggers him to the point where he is totally out of it and gets startled when Reader touches him, causing him to slightly hurt her by grabbing her wrist or whatnot because he mistakes her as a threat. Once he snaps out of his PTSD episode, he immediately feels horrible and regretful despite how much Reader tries to assure him that she’s okay and it wasn’t his fault. But it’s not enough; he starts to distant himself out of fear that he’d potentially hurt her again and out of fear that he’d finally done something enough that’ll make her want to leave him. Reader catches on though and then does her best to make Joel realize that she doesn’t blame him for what happened, she’ll always be there for him — through the good, bad, and ugly —, and she’ll never leave him because he’s the love of her life. Just basically a whole lot of hurt and comfort (with a hint of angst and fluff) lol.

(Ah, I’m so sorry that this ended up being such an annoyingly long and detailed ask! I was struggling with how to express my idea in words, and just ended up rambling… I hope it’s okay! 😭 Please feel free to change anything — you’re incredibly talented, so I completely trust your wherever your creativity takes you if you choose to write this).

Anyway! Thank you so much for writing and sharing all of your stories — your writing is truly outstanding and really just your account as a whole is one of my absolute favorites! 🫶🏻

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of PTSD

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Think you made enough food?” you felt Joel’s arm at the small of your back as you set up the desserts you had made. You turned to him and pretended to huff before playfully swatting his hand away, “I think you’ve got enough for the whole of Jackson.”

“I never hear you complaining, Joel Miller,” you grabbed one of the chocolate cookies you’d made and took a bite before offering half to him. He playfully bit it out of your hand, causing you to giggle at him, “no manners, Mr. Miller. None at all!”

“I,” he mumbled through a mouth of cookie, “am a perfect gentleman, darlin’.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you uncovered the rest of the baked goods you’d prepared and marveled at your handiwork, “this is a family barbeque but you know that basically means everyone will be here since we’re all basically one big, weird family. Hence, I made plenty.”

“What’s a smart woman like you doing with a fool like me?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in a for a sweet kiss, practically beaming when you pulled back, “baby.”

"Don't baby me, Miller," you planted a playful, sloppy kiss on his cheek, "go on and help your brother with the barbecue so we can actually eat."

"Fine," he clutched at his heart as he scoffed before making his way over to Tommy. You couldn't help but watch him go, shaking your head in amusement. This man.

The world might have been different from how it once used to be, but one of the things that never changed was the love of fireworks. Jimmy and Sandra had somehow managed to come up with a cache of them on one of their last trips out of Jackson.

Naturally, the brilliant idea that they could be used at the barbecue was proposed and it wasn't hard to convince the younger Miller brother to go ahead with it. Under controlled circumstances, it would all be fine.

And realistically it should have been fine…you had no reason to think that it wouldn't be. But life didn't seem to agree with you and had a completely different idea.

You were standing with Ellie, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and you hugged onto her, waiting to see all the pretty fireworks. It hit you then and there - Ellie had never seen fireworks before! The idea in and of itself seemed wild.

Her entire face was lit up from her big smile and the sparkling lights as the two of you watched the ones Tommy had set off.

"Pretty cool, huh?" You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before realizing that something, or someone rather, was missing, "I'm going to go and find Joel. I'll be right back!"

Ellie was so distracted that she didn't even take much note of you leaving. It only took a few minutes before you found him near the back of the house, picking at something from one of the tables, or so you thought anyway.

"Babe?" You weren't sure if he could hear you over the clambering of the crowd and the fireworks; he didn't turn around. You walked closer to him and reached for him, "Joel?"

And then it happened all at once; he turned around and grabbed your wrist, twisting your arm at a painful angle and causing you to cry out. His eyes were dark but there was nothing there, just an empty hollowness.

“Joel!” you tried to pull out of his tight grip but that only made things more painful. He wasn’t letting go and you didn’t know what to do - he clearly wasn’t him right now. You struggled with him for a few moments before you heard someone running up and yelling at Joel to stop.

You looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over your body when you realized it was Tommy. If there was anyone that could help in this situation, it would be him. Tommy managed to pry Joel’s hands off you, the sheer force causing you to stumble backwards and fall onto your butt.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy’s hands were on Joel’s shoulders as he tried to get him to snap out of his trance. You’d never seen him like this and it was as scary as it was heartbreaking. You didn’t fully know what was going on but you had a fairly good guess, “Joel, this isn’t real, it’s just a memory. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re at home with us.”

That seemed to quell him even if it was the slightest bit and he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to shake whatever was going on off.

“Breathe in and out slowly,” Tommy had a calming effect on your boyfriend who seemed to relax, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, “look around, we’re at home, we’re safe.”

Tommy took a few steps back and looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as he held out his hand to help you to up and to your feet. Once you were back up, you looked over at Joel to find looking between you and Tommy,

“Joel?” your voice almost cracked as you subconsciously at your sore wrist and sore. His eyes darted to the sore area that was already red and starting to swell.

His jaw clenched as he let out a long sigh, hanging in head in exhaustion and shame, “I’m…I’m okay.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “let me take you and Ellie home.”

“But-”

“Please?” he asked softly, offering you a pointed look. You realized what he was trying to convey and nodded before letting him lead you away, “I’ll be right back, big brother.”

You cast one last look at Joel but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your heart broke a little bit, but you kept repeating to yourself that everything would be alright. This was just a small bump in the road.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself alone in bed, Joel’s side still made up and cold. He hadn’t come to bed. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before putting on your slippers and padding down the hall. You poked your head into Ellie’s bedroom and found the girl fast asleep still; at least she was getting some rest.

You decided to start a pot of coffee and made your way to the kitchen; when you stepped inside you found him sitting at the table and staring at his hands. You relaxed ever so slightly when you realized he was home…but something was definitely still going on.

“Joel?” you’d been so quiet that he hadn’t heard you come in, but his head snapped up and looked at you, “h-hey, my love.”

He inhaled shakily before looking you over, his entire face turning into a grimace at the angry haze of bruising on your arm. You realized what he was looking at and moved to tuck your arm behind your back.

“I hurt you,” was all he managed to see before you could see that his eyes were glistening with tears. You took a few steps closer and shook your head fervently, but he recoiled from you, “I did that to you.”

“No,” the fact that he tried to shy away from you didn’t stop you from getting closer, “you didn’t hurt me - that wasn’t you.”

“It was me,” gingerly, he reached for your hand and pulled out your arm so he could look it over properly. In between the marks you could see the fingerprints etched in there, “if it wasn’t me, who did this to you?”

“Baby-”

“I hurt you,” he repeated, “all because I couldn’t handle the sound of some fuckin’ fireworks.”

“Stop,” you crouched down so you could look up at him since he refused to do so, “please. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you for this. No one should - it was an unfortunate thing but it’s over and done with this and this bruising will heal and go away. But I am never going away, and if you think this one little thing will do that, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I had no control over what happened,” he was willing to concede at least that much, “and that’s what scares me. What if it happens again? What if it gets even worse the next time? What if-”

“Joel,” you reached up and put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “you can’t think like that. It’s not healthy….just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will happen again. And, if for some reason it does, we’ll take it one day at a time.”

He reached up and gently removed your hand from his face, causing you to frown deeply, “I can’t trust myself around you. If anything ever happened to you or to Ellie, I would never forgive myself.”

“Joel-”

“I need some air,” he stood up and gently brushed past you, walking outside and into the backyard. You remained rooted in your spot, but sighed heavily, blinking back the tears that threatened to well up.

Things would be okay, you knew they would…they had to be. Right? Right.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was still with you, but you could slowly see him growing more and more distant as the days wore on. Despite your reassurances that you were okay, and you still loved him more than anything, it was like he became a shell of his former self. And it wasn’t just with you, which was a bit of reassurance that it wasn’t just you, but it was with everyone. You wished there was something you could do that would easily get him back to his former self. Just as your arm grew better and less bruised, he continued to pull away and create a barrier between the two of you.

One late night, as you laid in bed reading due to your inability to sleep, Joel came in and slowly closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. When he cleared his throat, you looked up and saw a serious expression on his face. He looked just as tired as you felt.

“What’s up?” you asked softly as you closed your book and gently set it to the side. He remained silent for a few moments, clearly searching for the right words. Once a few moments of tense silence passed he finally looked at you, "hmm?"

"I've been thinkin'," he shoved his hands into pockets. You sat up straighter and tried to push down the nagging feeling that was already forming in your tummy, "and I think it's best…I should go."

"Go?" You parroted, not fully understanding what he was talking about, "what do you mean, Joel?"

"Go," he waved his hand around, "I don't think I should be here with you and Ellie anymore."

"Oh. Oh," you frowned at him, "so you're just going to up and leave."

"Baby, I - it's not like that," he insisted softly but you weren't just about to let him go. Not that easily, "this is what's best."

You scoffed at him, not even bothering to hide your disappointment, "that's what's best, huh? For who? For who is it best? You?"

"Best for everyone."

"Well that is just a straight up lie," you got out of bed and walked over to him, crossing your arms over his chest, "its not what's best for me at all. Or Ellie."

"Baby," it was softer and much more gentle, and almost resigned in a way.

"Listen - this time I need you to listen to me," you stood in front of him, firm and tall, "this has been going on for weeks now and I'm not just going to let you keep continuing on like this."

"I just…I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever did anything to you or hurt you in any way possible," you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "its already hard enough knowing that I did."

"Look," you pulled back the sleeve of your sweater and held up your arm. When he refused to acknowledge what you were doing you kept a cool and even tone, "look at me."

Reluctantly he allowed himself to look at your arm, at the place he had once hurt you. Your arm was back to normal and no remnants of what had once happened. He wrapped his fingers gingerly around your wrist as he tenderly turned your arm to get a better look at it.

"There's nothing there," you pointed out softly, "and it doesn't hurt at all. I don't think about it anymore and I don't…I never blamed you and I was never scared of you."

"You're saying that now…but what if it happens again?" You could see the genuine concern in his eyes as you reached up and gently touched his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, something he'd denied himself for what seemed like an eternity by that point.

"If it does, we'll figure it out," you meant every word you said and you hoped he knew that, "Joel, life isn't always easy and it's not always fun. But just because one hard or bad thing happened doesn't mean I'm just going to walk away. That's not who we are and that's not what we do. I'm with you forever and nothing is going to change that."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, in search of the right thing to say. Instead of verbalizing all that he was feeling, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

"If it was me that happened to and I hurt you, would you want me to just leave?" You asked softly and you could feel the shake of his head.

"Of course not," he insisted, "it wouldn't…it would have been an accident."

"Exactly," you whispered, "how do you think I feel about you? I'm not going to let you just go. Not without a fight."

"Really?"

"Of course," you took his face in your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I love you, silly man. Nothing is ever going to change that. We'll be together through the good and the bad, through thick and thin. All of it."

And that was what seemed to break him. You could hear him sniffle lightly before a few tears rolled down his cheek. You gently brushed them away before making a small sound of reassurance at him.

"I love you, baby," he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his warm, soft body. You felt him relax into your touch as you looped your arms around his shoulders and tucked yourself into his body as best as possible. You could tell that he needed this just as much as you did; he was practically melting into your body, "so much."

"I love you," it was a sentiment whispered in his ear so only he could hear it,"so, so much my love."

"When I hurt you I just…I got so worried."

"It's understandable," you insisted, "anyone would feel that way. But I want you to also understand that I love you and that nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know," a huff of laughter escaped him, "I've always known that."

"Good," you gave him the beaming smile that he still managed to fall in with over and over again, "because I've always known that you love me too. I can't promise everything, but I can promise you one thing."

"What's that?" He trailed his fingers against your jaw.

"That we'll always be together," you pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, "and we'll get through anything. And that I will always love you."

"That's three things," he teased, a glimpse of his true self coming though.

"Joel!" You were laughing though and he loved that sound, "get the sentiment though."

"I do," he agreed gently, "I love you."

"I love you too, Joel Miller."

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #tlou

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lieslab · 12 days

Text

Waiting for us

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: After going to a carnival and getting stuck at the top of a ferris wheel, you crumble in your boyfriend's arms.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 5K

Trigger warning: Heights, anxiety, depression, mentions of nausea, parental issues, child abuse and neglect, self-hatred, self-harm, and mentions of not eating.

A/N: To whoever requested this, I don't know how you feel about carnivals. I don't know how you feel about ferris wheels and heights either, so I guessed. One of my most precious memories is my local county fair during warm summer days. I hope this warms your heart as much as it warms mine <3

_ _ _

You were playing pretend again. You were like a dancer frozen in time and trapped in a music box. Life cranked the knob and the music twinkled in the background. You spun, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

Life was hard, it always seemed to be. The weight of mental issues on your shoulders made it worse. Around and around you went playing the game of life. However, lately, it was just…different.

The gears in your music box had rusted over time. They creaked and your music was beginning to warp. Years of endless dancing made you grow fatigued. You could barely find the effort to keep going and yet, you continued on and on.

You were supposed to be happy today. You were trying your best, you really were. Your boyfriend had the whole day free and the two of you were supposed to enjoy the carnival together. He met you at the door with a grin and you tried to return it, but something was off.

He noticed how defeated you looked instantly, but he ignored it. Feelings for you were fickle and you tended to struggle with them a lot. Talking about them was difficult and it made you uncomfortable.

He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that you were off. The brown bags beneath your eyes had shifted to plum purple. Your cheeks seemed a bit more hollow than usual. There was a lingering darkness that surrounded you, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.

Feelings for both of you, it was a bit of a struggle. Neither of you wanted to be a bother towards the other. It was one of the things that you both needed to work on in the relationship.

When you arrived, you had high expectations. You thought the situation would cheer you up, but it didn’t. Carnivals were supposed to be filled with bright colors. Laughing people and screams from carnival rides. The oiled scent of fried food and the bubbling of excitement flowing through your veins.

Everything felt entirely different this time. The colors were more muted and the background sounds seemed faint. The scent of fried food made your stomach churn with nausea. You couldn’t imagine eating a single bite without throwing up.

You felt empty on the inside and you’d felt that way for a while. After a slew of personal issues, it was difficult to find your happiness. Things tended to control you more than you wanted them too. You didn’t know how to stop it.

There were eyelets in your limbs with strings laced through. You were pulled in different directions and none of those were in the direction you wanted to go. A puppet on a string, you struggled with everything.

Beside you, the warmth of Seungmin’s hand clutched yours firmly. He let you through the entrance after the two of you paid and he stopped on the path that led down the way.

“So what do you want to do first?”

Your eyes scanned the area as you debated. The more you saw, the more you just wanted to go home. Your anxiety was growing with the more people you saw and it was overwhelming.

“What do you want to do?” You asked.

Seungmin clicked his tongue and glanced around the area. “Well, I suppose we can go on the ferris wheel if you’re not a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken and I don’t mind heights.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“It’s not a challenge if you cop out.”

“Fine, let’s get wristbands and then we can go on the ferris wheel. Just for that, we’ll go on it more than once. I’m not a chicken.”

“You’d look cute with tail feathers.”

You rolled your eyes and walked with Seungmin towards a ticket booth. Since you planned to spend a few hours here, you both decided it was a better option to get wristbands. Who knew how many rides the two of you’d go on.

After retrieving your wristbands, the two of you headed to the ferris wheel. Since the carnival was in a larger city, the ferris wheel was bigger too. Small colorful enclosed baskets went high up into the setting sun before they curved and came back down.

Soon, the neon lights in the place would be turned on. Seungmin specifically brought you here for that reason. Everything looked better in the evening at carnivals. The neon colors popped and the air was electrified.

When neon colors clashed together with upbeat pop music and laughter from everyone, it was otherworldly. To experience something by yourself and yet everyone was experiencing the same thing around you in their own little bubbles, it was magical and he loved it.

The cabins looked like hot air balloons. The wide tops bulged out with the help of curved titanium rods and the supporting frame. The baby blue frame had been detailed with royal blue shadows to create the illusion of a basket.

Neon lights wrapped around the whole piece and glittered neon blue when the time was right. Other baskets were created similar and with different colors. The whole thing was much larger and more sophisticated than the average county fair ferris wheels with metal bucket seats.

When it was your turn, Seungmin gently led you in front of him and let go of your hand. The attendant held open the small metal gate for you to climb in. Once you were in, Seungmin moved to the opposite side and sat down.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you. You lied to Seungmin, you hated heights, but you knew that he liked the ferris wheel. Seungmin liked anything with beautiful detailing and photographic qualities. He was probably going to take photos of the view and upload them to Bubble later.

A round table sat in the center of the two of you. You let your arms rest on it and let out a soft sigh as the two of you were slowly eased up. The soft breeze was enough to catch your hair and pull it back. When Seungmin realized it, he let out a small laugh.

You pulled up your arm and let your chin rest on your hand. Trying to ignore the growing fear, you let your eyes shut. Seungmin pulled out his phone and began to snap photos.

“I think I was wrong about you. It’s clear that you’re not a chicken.”

“I told you,” you mumbled. Your stomach churned and the beginning of nausea was beginning to creep up. You forced yourself to suck in a deep breath and try to calm down.

The ride kept going up and then stopping as more people got on until it finally began going up and didn’t stop. Your eyes squeezed shut tighter and you eventually shifted. Your palms dug into your eyes as you buried your head in your hands.

The movement caused Seungmin to glance over. He frowned and spoke up. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I hate heights,” you mumbled.

“Then why did yo-”

“Because you wanted to see the view and I didn’t want to let you down. You were teasing me and I didn’t want you to think I was a coward.”

“Baby, you know I was just kidding, right? If you would have said something, I wouldn’t have made you go on the ride. I could have gone by myself and gave you some money to go get a snack or something.”

“I don’t want your money!” You snapped. The situation wasn’t such a big deal, but with everything going on in your life recently, you were upset. Things kept going wrong and the pressure gauge was beginning to crank up. How long were you going to keep things to yourself until you blew?

Seungmin stared at you for a moment, unsure of what to do. There was more tension between the two of you. He couldn’t see your face as you hid it with your hands, but he knew you were struggling.

The longer the silence went on, the more he realized he needed to say something. It was clear that you weren’t going to address the elephant between the two of you. Something was going on with you and if he had to, he was going to pry it from you.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud creaking sound interrupted. Down below, someone screamed. Your hands jerked from your face and you looked around with wide eyes. The ferris wheel halted with you and Seungmin stuck at the top.

Gears ground together and shouts filled the air. In the middle of your panic, you slipped your hand into Seungmin’s and he squeezed it back lightly. You sucked in a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes shut again.

“What’s going on?” Someone shouted at the ride operator down below.

The ride operator had hit the emergency stop button when things started to go wrong. He cupped his hands together and yelled back, so everyone could hear him.

“I don’t know, but hang tight. Don’t worry, we’ll get it figured out soon enough. You guys might be stuck for a bit.”

Around the wheel, there were a plethora of different responses. Below you, someone complained and another one groaned. Someone else tried to see the positive side of things and complemented the view. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept hold of Seungmin’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin spoke softly.��

All you could do was frantically shake your head back and forth. Seungmin shifted in his spot and the cabin began to rock slightly. Your panic grew until the comforting scent of Seungmin’s cologne filled your nose.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around your neck and tugged you closer. Comforted, you buried your head into the side of his shoulder.

With his other hand, he reached over and gently began to loop his fingers through your hair. The soft gesture always comforted you when you were struggling. You buried your head further into his shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to block the world out and forget this entire thing happened. You wanted to be back on solid ground. You wanted the comfort of your bed. You wanted your heavy limbs to find comfort in the cotton sheets and silk pillowcases.

“Come here.”

You didn’t fight it when he gently pulled your body closer. The way he moved you around, you felt like a small child. His fingers found your hips and he pulled you onto his lap. Your legs straddled his and the table behind you pressed against your back.

Seungmin shifted back and you fell back with him. Your head landed on the curve of his collarbone. His arms wrapped around the small of your back. Despite the horrific scenario, you found yourself being comforted.

“Is that better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

His left hand began to lightly draw patterns on your back. He could feel how tense you were in his arms. You were worked up about everything.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you and I won’t let go.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The breeze picked up and swept your hair off to the side. Seungmin’s head rested back against one of the metal poles. In the distance, birds were happily chirping and unaware of your predicament.

Seungmin was nervous, but he wasn’t outright terrified. He knew the ride operator was trained and the carnival had protocols in place. He knew that they’d know what to do to get them out of the situation safely. Besides, being worked up about it would only add to your stress.

In his chest, your eyes were squeezed shut. You sucked in deep breaths trying to find rhythm in the madness. Your fingers clutched the back of Seungmin’s shirt. After a while, he began to hum, hoping it’d calm you down.

When you began to relax, he let out a sigh of relief. He let his eyes shut and continued to find comfort in you. You were his warmth. You were there for everything for him and he wanted to be there for you too.

“Baby, I think we need to talk about something.”

You shifted your head with your eyes shut. Instead of being buried in his chest, your cheek pressed against it instead. You kept your eyes shut, so you didn’t have to see the staggering view down below.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to ruin our day, but I really think I need to talk to you about some stuff. I know feelings are uncomfortable for you, but over the past few weeks…no,” he shook his head. “It’s been longer than that. I should have brought it up, but you like your independence. I know you find it hard to lean on me.”

A lump began to fill the back of your throat. Despite the closed eyes, you could feel the burn of tears welling up. You thought you were doing a good job, but clearly not. He knew something was wrong.

“I don’t like seeing you suffer alone. You mean everything to me, you know? I’m sorry I don’t say it enough, but I mean it. I’m not good with words, but you make me feel mushy on the inside.”

“Everyone says you’ll come around when you’re ready, but you haven’t. You just slowly keep getting worse and worse. I’m afraid for you, baby. I’m afraid something is seriously wrong and I know how you struggle. You’ll drown silently before you ever reach out for help.”

“It’s partly my fault, I should have brought it up sooner. I just…” He trailed off and squeezed his arms around you tighter. “I’m so afraid of saying the wrong thing and losing you. So please, please tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can’t fix it, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Your breathing hitched as your fingers curled into him tighter. You weren’t sure how to get the words out. You didn’t know how to say it, but you had to try. He was right, you were tired of drowning.

“Do you ever…do you ever just feel like everyone’s against you?” Your voice came out shrill. You tried to swallow to hide it, but it stayed there. “Like no matter what you do, you just can’t win?”

“Sometimes, yes, but I remember all the good in my life and I focus on that. I cherish the little things I have and the relationship I have with the people around me. I have my band, my fans, and my family. Plus, I-”

“They hate me,” you weakly got out.

“Huh?”

“My family.”

Your eyes finally opened to view the scene down below. Your teeth sunk into the soft skin of your bottom lip as you tried not to sob. Below you, friends and families were gathered and laughing.

You could see them now. The mothers on the carousel holding their kids up and making sure they’re okay. The fathers clutching the handles of the rides and screeching in delight as their child giggles beside them.

The sickly sweet artificial taste of bright pink cotton candy melting on the tongue of a three-year-old. Above them, their parents beam and ask how it tastes. It’s the first time they’ve ever had something this sweet before.

On the other side of the carnival, a grandparent is playing skeeball with their grandkid. The two are laughing and the grandparent feels like a kid again. The potential of winning a large prize makes them aim carefully and try their hardest.

A couple is announcing their pregnancy to their parents right before they play mini golf. They’re all so thrilled, the parents are hugging and kissing. The soon to be parents are ecstatic and clutching tightly to each other via hands.

Parents are everywhere. It’s the adopted kid who happily runs and leads his adopted father towards his favorite ride. It’s the stepkids who are warming up to their new stepmother. They’re nervous and looking over at their father for reassurance. He breaks the ice by buying them all lemonade and sprinkled candy apples.

Families and parents were everywhere. Compared to what you went through with yours, this was like a mini trip to hell. You couldn’t help, but feel stung by defeat being here. In front of Seungmin, while admitting this, you felt three inches tall.

Your limbs were weighed down with sadness and melancholy. The scene was beautiful up here and yet, you couldn’t help, but feel blue. The sky was filled with swirls of lavender and citrus oranges. Some god had blown the sky full of confectionary kisses, but you couldn’t focus on it.

There was an ache in your bones and a longing. A longing for a life of love. Being in a romantic relationship didn’t fill the void left behind by parental issues and it never would. You could be in the happiest relationship and the hollowness could still creep up.

Everyone wants to be nurtured and loved. Every kid deserves to be loved, but not every person deserves to be a parent. There are no regulations as to who can be a parent. For some, it’s the best thing to ever happen to them. For others, it’s a life-long burden.

“Am I difficult to love?” You went on. “Is there something wrong with me? I don’t think my mother loves me very much. I thought I meant everything to her, but lately with her actions, she just…” You trailed off, unable to finish. “I just want to be good enough.”

Seungmin’s heart cracked in his chest at your words. The ooze of hurt surrounding you filled the air and it curdled his marrow. You were the love of his life, how could someone not love you?

It was like someone had gotten out the scissors and began to snip through his heartstrings. Every word you uttered, it was another snip and another gust of pain. How could your parents not love you?

“Is that how you feel?”

“I can’t handle it, Seungmin.”

The use of his name and not a pet name was like a slap to the face.

“It’s killing me and I-I can’t deal with it. How do I become someone else?” Tears started to drip down your cheeks. “How do I become better? How can I be a better kid? What am I missing?”

“Do I need to act differently? Do I need to get plastic surgery done, so I can look better? I feel like my mother’s little barbie doll. She controls me, but she doesn’t really love me. I want to be loved. I want to be needed. I want to be wanted, and I-”

Your voice broke off. Seungmin shut his own eyes trying not to cry at your words. He knew you had issues with your family, but he didn’t know it was this bad. You hid everything so well. You kept it from everyone and kept it locked away because that’s what good children did.

Good children shut up about the abuse and neglect they received for the sake of their parents’ image. They uphold the look that their parents have conjured up. They do such a good job, you’d never know.

You’d never realize those bags beneath their eyes are from lack of sleep. You’d never know how much they’ve been screamed at. You wouldn’t know how much they’ve destroyed themselves to keep their parents happy. A child will do anything to please a parent.

On and on it goes until a child breaks. The moment you do, there’s a target on your back. You’re not strong enough, you’re not brave enough, you’re not smart enough, and you’re not good enough. Just wanting their approval, you believe them. How could you not? You just want to make your parents happy.

But bad parents deserve to be outed. It is a privilege to have a child. You are creating the next generation. You have a choice in playing a role in what type of person you want your child to become.

How dare you break them down into bits of self-hatred and disgust when somewhere out there, another mother would kill to have a chance to lift their child up. Someone out there dreams of telling their child that they are precious. Someone strokes the face of a child in their dreams and they will never have it.

“It hurts. It hurts so much and I feel like I can’t do anything right. I can barely eat and I’m either not sleeping or I’m sleeping all the time. I feel like I’m slowly rotting from the inside out. I don’t know how to escape it. It got so bad the other day that I…I…”

The words got stuck in your throat and they wouldn’t come out. It hurt to admit that everything got so bad that you needed some sort of release. Shaken like soda, you were ready to explode. Self-harming had always been a release for you.

It made you feel like you were doing something right. You were punishing yourself for everything you weren’t. For not being good enough. For not being able to endure the pain. For not being strong enough. For being unloveable.

Your blood was tainted with sadness. It oozed out bright red and all you could do was watch with a sigh of relief. For once, you were finally doing something right when everything else seemed to be wrong.

You didn’t have to finish the sentence, but Seungmin knew. His arms tightened around you and he pulled your body towards him even more. He wanted to take it all away. He’d embody this sadness and soak it up like a sponge if he could.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried not to cry. You were outside, but there were people below you on either side. If you started to sob, you knew you’d gain their attention. Plus, it might stress out the ride operator down below.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhh.” Seungmin’s hand comfortingly rubbed your back. “It’s alright, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Your voice tightened again, “I just want to be loved.”

“And loved, you are. It seems like I need to do a better job at showing you that because you don’t feel like it. You mean everything to me and I’m sorry your parents are that way.”

“You’ve grown up and turned into such a wonderful person. It’s shitty that they can’t see that. Despite everything, you have turned out amazing. You have a golden heart. You’re precious on the inside and out.”

“Do you really think that I’d fall in love with just anyone?” He continued. “I’m so picky with who I date that Lee Know believed I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life and then I met you.”

“I’m a burden.”

“If you mean making me stutter like an idiot and making my heart flutter, then yeah, you’re a burden. You’re a burden when you send me those goofy selfies and make me blush so hard that I can’t help, but smile because you look cute.”

“You’re such a burden because every time you text me during rehearsals, I blush and look like an idiot in front of my band members. Do you know how many times I’ve been teased by the old man?”

You sniffled.

“Every time he teases me, I tell him that it must be hard for him. Not a single person has looked his way. Why do you think he’s always flirting with the fans on Bubble? He’s like a dog in heat. When he’s horny, everyone knows about it.”

The sudden confession made you snort. Seungmin smiled and kept talking. “You’re my pride and joy. You know how you have your photocards of me in your wallet? Yeah, well, I made some of you.”

“Really?”

“Duh! I’ve gotta be ready to show off my significant other at all times. I could talk about you for hours. You know what?”

“What?”

“You’ve got me so smitten that I asked Hyunjin for date recommendations. You know how he’s the romantic one? Yeah, I caved. You’ve got me wrapped around your little fingers.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You sat up with teary eyes and another sniffle. Seungmin stared at you and gently brushed his thumbs beneath your eyes. “Oof.” His face scrunched up. “Crying doesn’t look the best on you.”

You ignored his teasing comment. “And what did Hyunjin say? What was his suggestion?” You reached up with your palms and rubbed the wet tears away.

“Look at me.”

You pulled your hands away and glanced up at him. You didn’t have time to react as he cupped your face. Before you knew it, he tilted his head and connected your lips.

Up above the world, the two of you shared a soft kiss. Your lips were seeped in salt from your tears, but he didn’t care. All your previous negative thoughts began to fall away.

So wrapped up in everything, you forgot about the person who meant the most to you. You forgot about the joy he brought. You forgot how he seemed to melt away every bad thought and warm your heart. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he tugged your hips closer.

“I got it!” A voice called from down below. There was a creak and the ride began to boot up. Around the two of you, there was a faint hum and the neon blue bulbs around your basket tinkered to life.

You pulled away from Seungmin wide-eyed and breathless. The two of you glanced around and the ride began to descend. Seungmin’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist.

“We’re going down?”

“We’re going down,” he echoed.

“Thank, fuck.”

He leaned back when you let your chin drop to his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his back and you let out a final sigh of relief. His hands found your back.

“I know I’m not perfect and I won’t be able to give you what your parents couldn’t. I just hope you realize how good you are and how much you mean to me. Your parents are assholes and you deserve the entire world. I’d do anything for you.”

“I just wish things were better with them.”

“I know. The next time you feel like hurting yourself, please talk to me. I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll make an exception and let you cuddle me.”

“Really?” You pulled away from him with bright eyes and a smile. He nodded with a fluttering heart. You looked good with a smile.

“Um…” Your smile fell. “I’m sorry for ruining our date. That was a lot and I-”

“No worries, it’s okay. I’m glad we got to talk about it. You know how I said crying doesn’t look good on you? Your best look is the one where you’re smiling.”

“What if I was wearing something ugly?”

“Doesn’t matter, the smile brings it together.”

“You’re being cheesy now.”

“Hyunjin said being cheesy was good.”

“You should stop getting dating advice from Hyunjin. I don’t want to date him, I want to date you. We should just do whatever you want to do.”

“I’m so sorry this happened. Please forgive me!” The ride operator was incredibly apologetic as he opened the small metal gate. “Were you crying? I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright,” you smiled at him and shifted off of Seungmin.

The two of you left the basket and you were happy to finally be back on the ground. Seungmin linked his hand through yours and shook his head. “You’re right, I’m never listening to Hyunjin ever again.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“I want to go get us our favorite slushies. Try not to cry and season yours with your tears. I highly doubt salty slushies taste good and I’m not buying you another one.”

“Touché.”

He led you through a path of people and towards a slushie stand. As you passed a stand with fried food, your stomach loudly rumbled. Your cheeks went bright red as you mumbled an apology. You hadn’t eaten in so long that your hunger was finally starting to come back. You felt a million times better after the conversation with Seungmin.

“Scratch that, we’ll get food and then we’ll get slushies. I bet I can eat more fried food than you.”

“No way!”

Seungmin smirked, “then prove it.”

“I will!” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Seungmin instantly jerked his hand up and gently pinched the tip of it. You pulled away and gagged. “Ew! Gross! You’ve got cooties!”

“And now you’re infected too. Boo-hoo. Whatever shall you do now?”

“Another kiss?”

“Only because I feel bad for you. My kisses are rare, you know? My lips could warm the arctic if I traveled there.”

“I hope you never read any of Hyunjin’s poetry again.”

“Just for that, I’m telling Chan you want to call him grandpa from now on. Since you need a new family, he can be the first one to test it out on. Just wait until he hears about this. You’re never going to hear the end of it. I’m texting the group chat and maybe you can call Lee Know ‘kitten’ or something.”

“Seungmin, no!”

“Last I checked, I was your baby.”

“Baby, no!”

He grinned and took off into the crowd. You screeched and sprinted off after him. He pulled out his phone and dodged and weaved. You yelled after him, not caring that people were staring at the two of you.

As you flew by an elderly couple, the pair watched you dart down the path. The woman laughed as she squeezed her lover’s hand. “I remember how those days were.”

“We were just two young kids in love. I’m glad that it’s still playful and timeless as ever. I can’t remember the last time I ran that fast.”

“Me neither. I treasure those memories a lot. We might not be able to run, but we sure can fly. I’ve heard they're letting adults ride on the carousel. Want to give it a shot for old times sake?”

“Of course I do, darling. If it’s with you, absolutely. I’ve said it years ago and I’ll say it again, I’d do anything for you.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡|

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d0youc0py · 4 months

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hiie -🍄

can you do 141 and los vaqueros reacting to you waking up mad cause you had a dream with them?? something like you fight in the dream or whatever

I love your writing♥️

“Time to wake up, Honey.” His groggy voice sent shivers down your spine. Rough hands crept under your shirt, rubbing circles against your soft skin. He waited patiently for you to turn around and wrap your arms tightly around him, but that never came. With a playful huff he tugged you on to his chest. A pleased hum vibrated through him as your body fit perfectly against his. He pressed slow and steady kisses against your shoulder, making his way up to your lips. Just before he could you turned your head. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He murmured, his hands traveling down giving your butt a firm pat.

“John.” You mumbled back. Your hard exterior slowly faltering.

“What’s got my pretty thing so upset, hmm?” He whispered. He tried and once again failed to press a kiss against your lips.

“You forgot our anniversary.” You nearly sneered. His heart dropped into his stomach, but even in his sleepy state his mind was still so agile.

“Honey, I think you may have forgotten what day our anniversary is.” He hummed back, resting his cheek against your head.

“No, in my dream you forgot our anniversary.” You emphasized. You shook up and down on his chest as he chuckled.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” He questioned.

“No.” You responded quickly. “Thats why it hurt so much!” You whimpered, curling deeper into his chest.

“Well how about I make us some pancakes to make up for being an arse in your dreams?”

You woke up to a wet and loud raspberry being blow against your neck. You groaned loudly, your hands swatting anything in their path.

“Morning, Sweets.” Simon chuckled, easily dodging you. He kissed your temple, beginning to make his way out of bed. “Wanna come to the gym with me? Your boxing could use some technique.” His back cracked as he stretched.

“No, I’m mad at you.” You huffed, pulling the sheets back over your head.

“That so?” He hummed. “If it’s the way I woke you up just know I tried to do it the gentle way, but you never seem to respond to that.”

“You were mean to me.” You said from under your pile a blankets.

“What?” His whole attitude had changed, his hands quickly working to fish you out from your blanket fort. His worried eyes found yours and you suddenly wondered if you had made too big of a deal about this.

“In my dream.” You added quickly. His shoulder relaxed and he gave you a firm glare.

“Don’t scare me like that.” He huffed. “I’m not fucking responsible for dream Simon, yeah?” His tone was stern yet his eyes held a twinge of softness to them. You bit back a smile. You extended your arms to him and he quickly dipped down to meet you.

“Sorry, Si.” You whispered.

*Kinda triggering- maybe?*

“You’re breaking my mates heart, Kid.” You quickly looked away from your computer at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“What’d you mean?” You hummed turning back to the screen. Simon grabbed the back of your chair, manually pulling you away from your computer.

“He says you didn’t talk to him this mornin.’ He being an ass or something?” Simon questioned crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned against your desk the wood creaking in disapproval.

“No!” You said quickly, waving your hands. “It’s just- it’s hard to explain Ghostie.” You stumbled.

“Try me.” He pressed. You rolled your eyes, ready to be laughed at.

“Remember that time we were at the pool and he dunked my head underwater?” You started. Simon nodded his head. “Well I had a dream like that except- well, he really did drown me- well, he tried to at least. I woke up before anything actually happened.” You explained. You waited patiently for Simon to break out in chuckles, but that never came.

“I get that.” He said suddenly.

“You do?” You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah, I have dreams where I’m killed all the time.” He sighed, standing up straight. With that he patted you on the shoulder, heading towards the door. He opened it and you swore you could he at Johnny’s voice just outside.

“Stop your moping and get in there. Nothin’ you can’t fix.” Simon whispered from the doorway. Johnny stepped into view. He looked nervous- like a kid being sent to the principals office.

“Hi, Mac.” You smirked. His shoulders relaxed at that. “I’m sorry I was mad at you this morning.” He breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly cleared the distance between the two of you, peppering kisses all of your face.

“Made my morning, hell.” He huffed against you.

You woke up to your favorite breakfast and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Ky!” You hummed happily already forgetting about the hell you put that man through last night.

“Baby? Baby! Wake up.” Your eyes shot open staring at Kyle’s worried face above you. “You were thrashing in your sleep. Need to start wearing my gear to bed?” He hummed, trying the make a joke. He suddenly noticed the wetness around your eyes. “Why’re you crying?” He whispered softly. His thumb gently began to wipe them away. The dream came back to you immediately.

“You cheated on me, asshole!” You spat, turning on your side away from him. Now he knows without a doubt he’s never given you any reason to believe that, but that doesn’t stop his heart rate from picking up.

“I beg your pardon?” He spoke from behind you. Suddenly the pieces clicked in his mind and he couldn’t help a small smile despite the circumstances. “For real? Dream Ky is an asshole.” Kyle sighed. He carefully wrapped an arm around you, hoping you wouldn’t reject the comfort. You didn’t. “You gonna break up with him?” He asked, inching closer to you.

“I think I have to.” You mumbled sleepily. “I don’t deserve to be treated that way.” You yawned, pressing yourself against him.

“That’s right, babe. You’re so much better than that. Maybe you should just date me instead, hmm?” He smiled against your head.

“That’s a good idea.” You whispered, before finally falling back asleep.

Now Alejandro had never been a morning person, but waking him up this way was just cruel.

“Alejandro! Wake up!” A pillow thumped against his chest, affirming your words.

“What happened?” He groaned, tumbling out of bed. His hands went to find one of the many weapons he had stored under the bed.

“You don’t get to talk to me that way!” You yelled. His body slowed.

“What are you talking about, Mi vida?” His eyes had finally adjusted to the sun poking through the window. “Are you hurt?”

“Not physically. But emotionally, yes! Yes, I am!” You stated from your spot on the bed. “You were very mean to me, Alejandro.”

His brows furrowed and he felt his blood began to heat up. What did he do? He had always been nothing but adoring towards you.

“I think you have me confused with someone else.” He huffed, finally standing up from his tumble. He ran a hand over his face, trying to blink away his drowsiness. “And if someone was mean to you, you have ten second to tell me who.”

“No. It was my dream. I know who was in it.” You pressed. Your words finally sunk in and he let a few chuckles flow freely.

“Oh, My feisty little thing.” He smirked, scooping you up in his arms, tucking both of you back under the covers. He’d be dammed if he let your little fit disrupt his much needed sleep.

“I’m sorry I did that, mi amor.” Rudy apologized against your temple.

“It’s just so not like you.” You whined against his chest. “Even in my dreams you are always so sweet to me.” He nodded his head in understanding, his hands trailing up and down your sides, massaging wherever felt tense.

“You dream about me a lot?” He smiled. You quickly nodded your head.

“Yeah. Especially when you are away.” You murmured, pressing a kiss against his chest in apology for acting so silly.

He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it.

“Do you think, maybe, mi amor, that it’s all those true crime shows you’ve been watching?” He said hesitantly. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever given you a reason to think I would poison your food.”

“Maybe.” You sighed. “Rudy?”

“Yes, mi Amor?”

“Is now a bad time to ask you for some breakfast?”

I hope you liked this! Thank you for requesting and thank you for your kind words! 🩷🍄P.S sorry this took so long! I have so many requests just rotting in my drafts 😩

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dhorrl · 6 months

Text

NNN-Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki/Reader

Content/Trigger warnings: Edging, fingering, oral, cursing, NNN

Enjoy the fic? I made a bot to go with it!

17 days… he had made it 17 days without touching or even so much as looking at you in any sort of sexual way, though that was slowly becoming more and more difficult.

That's how you ended up here, sprawled beneath him on the couch, still fully clothed, though his hands gradually made their way under everything, fingers splayed out over every inch of your skin. You had tried and failed to push him off you as he ripped off your most innocent pair of pajamas, a baggy and overworn pair of Dynamight-themed pants that you deliberately put on to dress more modestly.

"I'm not gonna cum, just wanna touch on you. Maybe, put the tip in… I promise I'm not gonna cum." His voice was ragged, trembling with barely contained desire. He was already aware of the consequences of his actions but couldn't help himself.

"Kats… we both know it won't just be the tip, and we both know you'll cum. Come on, babe, do you really wanna lose this challenge to Denki? That pervert is still going strong!" You knew the only way to attempt to reign him in at this point was to attack his ego, his need to be the best at everything.

Katsuki grumbled, a fresh wave of determination washing over him; there was no way he would lose to that dunce face. However, that didn't stop him from leaning forward and capturing your lips with his own, growling into them.

"Fuck, babe… why do you have to be so irresistible?" His cock strained against his boxers as he tried to push away the urge to sink into you, reminding himself again of this damned challenge.

"Fine! I won't fuck you, at least not tonight," he smirked, his red eyes burning into your own. "Just let me touch you." His hand slipped back under your shirt; his release might be off the table, but there was nothing in the rules about pleasuring you.

You covered your face, stifling the moan that slipped from your lips. You had been abstaining as well in support of Katsuki, but his hands always worked magic against your skin. He pushed your shirt up over your bare chest, latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue aggressively while his free hand pinched the other, trying to pull more of those delicious sounds from your lips.

Katsuki was thoroughly enjoying the torture he was putting you through despite his own hunger for attention. Hearing your moans did things to him, brought out those inherent primitive desires that he'd be more than keen to act on any other month. Suddenly, Katsuki had an idea, one that could potentially help him get through the rest of this hellish month or be his complete undoing.

"How 'bout this... I'll get you off as many times as you want, and in return, I get to feel your mouth on me?" He proposed, his voice husky as the image of you taking him into your mouth flashed in his mind. "It doesn't count if I don't cum, right?"

You let out an almost pained shudder, mouth watering at the thought. "Fine… if you wanna edge the fuck out of yourself, then it's your fucking funeral."

"Deal." With an animalistic growl, he pulled your panties down, his gaze falling on the glistening pool of arousal coating your cunt, fluttering around nothing as you felt his hands sliding up your thighs.

He was so fucking hard it hurt, his cock begging for release - a release that he knew he couldn't afford. Once he felt you relax into his touch, he slid two of his fingers inside you, enjoying the wet sloshing sounds your pussy made around his fingers.

"Fuck, babe. You’re so fucking wet." His voice was low and husky, trying to keep his breathing under control. A groan escaped his lips as he felt you clench around his fingers - he really was teetering on the edge, but he was determined. His thumb started rubbing against your clit, his rough thumb flicking over the sensitivity bud.

"Fuck... you're gonna cum for me, aren't you babe?" You were panting under him, legs shaking violently as he pushed you over the edge. Your hand reached down to grab his wrist, fucking yourself against it as you came undone, screaming his name.

“Kat-su-ki!” Your eyes rolled back as the mind-numbing orgasm hit you hard and fast.

"Fuck, baby... you look so fucking hot when you cum," he growled, pressing a sloppy kiss to your neck.

He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, relishing the wet squelching noises around them. Those sounds, along with the sight of you squirming beneath him, were enough to drive any man insane, and Katsuki was already teetering on the edge. But he had to hold out. He had to finish this thing, no matter what.

Once he was sure you had come down from your high, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his lips to taste. The taste of your arousal was nothing short of intoxicating, quickly replaced by the feeling of emptiness as he realized he couldn't have you the way he wanted. With shaking hands, he unbuckled his pants, his massive length thudding against his stomach. "Your turn, babe, now get to fucking work."

You grinned sadistically as you switched positions, pushing him onto his back. You had never seen him this hard, cock like solid steel. Your lips eagerly descended on him, taking him to the hilt, tongue swirling around to suck down all of the endless amounts of pre-cum dripping down.

His groan echoed through the room, hands instinctively entwining in your hair as he gripped it firmly. Every nerve in his body was on fire as you took him in, your warm mouth enveloping him, causing him to buck up involuntarily.

"Shit, babe…" His hips twitched, desperate to thrust in time with your motions, but he refrained. His hands were twitching, every instinct in his body screaming at him to shove deeper into your welcoming mouth, take what was rightfully his, and paint the back of your throat with his seed. Despite the heavenly feeling, Katsuki was teetering on the edge of an explosion he couldn't afford.

The sight of you between his thighs, his length disappearing into your mouth and then reappearing, slick and glistening, was enough to drive him crazy. He was pulsating, so close to the edge. He had never felt anything this intense; the feeling of your warm lips enveloping his cock, not to mention the torturous pleasure of being so close to climax without the release, was a new experience to him, and he had to admit he was enjoying it – at least a part of him.

"Fuck..." Barely able to keep his self-control, Katsuki tightened his grip on your hair and pulled you away with a groan. "Stop... I'm gonna fucking...ugh...."

You grinned, dragging your lips off his shaft with a satisfying pop, chin dripping with saliva. "Alright, babe, you got what you wanted, right up to the edge. Since when are you such a masochist?"

"No fucking comment, princess," Katsuki grumbled, a blush creeping onto his face. Pulling you against him, he shoved his tongue in your mouth to claim the lingering taste of himself. On any other day, Katsuki would have flipped you onto your back and fucked you into the cushions, giving you both the release he so desperately craved. But for now, he'll have to bide his time and bite his tongue.

He huffed, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he stared at you with wild eyes, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath he took. His was still hard as a rock, but the moment had passed, and he somehow managed to retain control. He reached down, adjusting his painful cock into his pants. "I'm going to take a cold shower; I fucking need one now."

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #katsukibakugou #katsuki x y/n #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugo smut #no nut november #nnn

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 6 months

Text

Party Disaster

Pairing: Dark Soldier Boy x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: What Soldier Boy wants, he gets.

WARNINGS: Noncon.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

"That’s a nice dress.”

You turn around upon hearing the deep voice, automatically plastering an amicable smile on your face.

“Oh, thank you so much, Soldier Boy.” you reply, although the way his green eyes rake over your body, momentarily pausing when they reach the cleavage, is less than respectful.

Especially in a public event.

“A short one too, by the way.”

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring his remark as you let your eyes run over the people that walk around.

“Lovely party, isn’t it?”

“It is.” you agree, twisting your purse in your hands.

It’s slightly unnerving to be in a room full of superheroes, even though you work with them on a daily basis.

A shiver runs down your spine as the memory of Countess Crimson shouting at you for bumping against her in the hall, forcing you to apologize even though it was technically her fault.

The memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Hey, you good?” Soldier Boy’s hand lands on your shoulder and you offer him a reassuring smile.

He nods towards the dance floor, winking his eye at you. “How about a dance? I bet you’re an incredible dancer.”

“I’m not much of a dancer, actually.” the excuse comes quickly and you pretend not to notice when his hand tightens on your shoulder.

You take a step back, under the pretense of putting the glass back on a tray, escaping his touch.

“Actually I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m very tired.”

“How about I drive you home?” the offer is enough to make your heart skip a beat, anxiety crawling under your skin.

“Hum, it’s okay, really. I only live two minutes away so it’s a quick walk.” you lie but it doesn’t matter as Soldier Boy only lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I let a young lady like yourself walk alone at night, would I? Bad things happen all the time.” his hand sneaks around your back as he comes closer. “Let me just walk you to the door. Make sure you’re safe and sound.”

His words sound harmless and you nod, knowing that you don’t really have much of a choice.

And you just want to go home quickly.

He fucks you hard, like he’s a starved man. You always knew his strength was unparalleled, but never once did you ever think that you’d be fighting against it.

You cry out every time his hips aggressively meet yours, your pelvic bone hurting from the impact.

Soldier Boy thrusts meanly, holding down your hands on each side of your head with so much force that it feels like he’s crushing them.

You gasp in pain as he forces his cock inside over and over again, your pussy barely able to accommodate him even with the poor idea of him using his spit as lube.

“Fuck, I knew you’d have a tight cunt but damn, you make virgin pussies look bad.” he groans, leaning forward with his pretty hair falling off in strands into his eyes.

The feeling isn’t pleasant , your dry walls burning upon the intrusion. He tries kissing you, but you dodge away, turning your head to the side.

“Don’t be a brat, now.” his voice comes out deeper than usual and he punches a few cruel thrusts in payback.

One of his hands takes both of your wrist, pinning them above as the other reaches for your chest, squeezing a boob hard enough for you to wince. “I know you’re enjoying this. You wanted me, right?”

“Soldier Boy, please…stop.” you plead, but he barely listens to you. His attention is focused on the lower part of your body, eyes following the way his massive cock forces you open.

“That’s why you were all nice. Getting all dressed up for me. You wanted me. You wanted to fuck Soldier Boy.” his declaration has your stomach churning.

It was hardly what happened, but Soldier Boy only saw what he wanted to.

“Such a pretty pussy that you got, sweetheart. Taking me so well.” he sucks a deep breath and speeds up with movements, your body shaking with the sudden urgency of his thrusts.

He chants multiple curses as he furiously chases his high, only stopping when he cums with an obscene growl.

His body collapses over you, trapping you under the suffocating weight with his cum oozing out of you.

You hate superheroes.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #dark fic #the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #dark soldier boy #dark!soldier boy #dark soldier boy x reader #yandere soldier boy #yandere soldier boy x reader #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: dark content #tw: violence #tw: noncon #tw.noncon

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stylesispunk · 2 months

Text

Nothing's gonna hurt you baby | prologue

Detective! Javier peña x f! reader

summary: You were kidnapped one winter night, but you have no memories of the incident or the person who took you. A year later, a homicide leads Javier Peña to your door, seeking help. He soon learns that he must protect the woman he loves.

chapter warnings: mentions of kidnapping, death, angst. The story doesn't follow the plot from narcos, but the use of Javier as the main lead in this story.

w.c: 1,7k

a/n: So lately I've been reading a little bit of this kind of genre and I wanted to give it a try, I got inspired by some readings and movies, and I know that this kind of topic may be triggering for a lot of people, but I'll try not to describe anything hard to read. Thank you in advance for allowing me to keep practicing with my writing, I hope I get better at this someday and I would love to know what you think!

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

NEXT CHAPTER

There was a pain in your head when you woke up. The different voices in your surroundings were pounding against your skull, and terror creeped in.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the bright light piercing through your headache, intensifying the pain. You tried to recognize the people’s voices around you echoing in your ears, jumbling together into an unrecognizable symphony.

You attempted to move, but a sharp ache shot through your body. You winced. Panic crept in as you struggled to put the pieces together. Tiny fragments of broken memories flashed through your mind, but nothing seemed to explain why you were here.

As you blinked away the haze of confusion, you noticed a figure standing by your bedside—perhaps a nurse—with a gentle expression and a comforting presence. Their voice cut through the chaos, speaking softly to you, trying to reassure you. But the fear remained, gnawing at the edges of your consciousness like a relentless predator.

Questions flooded your mind, demanding answers that seemed just out of reach. What had happened to you? Why were you in the hospital?

“I was coming home from the restaurant; I had this fight with Tom,” you struggled to answer.

“Who is Tom?” the officer asked, walking towards your bed.

“My boyfriend,” you replied.

“That’s the last thing you remember?”

“That’s the last thing that happened yesterday.” You were completely confused, not understanding what was going on.

“Miss,” the officer began, carefully with the next words he was about to say: “That happened a year ago; you had been missing for a year.”

Your hands were shaking; you were completely lost, and the officer tried to comfort you. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one feeling like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down on your chest. Panic clenched at your throat, making it difficult to swallow, as the reality of your situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

The officer, sensing your distress, motioned urgently to the nurse, who hurried to your bedside with a concerned expression etched on her features. "We need something to help her calm down," the officer instructed, his voice laced with urgency.

You had woken up and come back from hell.

You had survived from a nightmare, your captor.

ONE YEAR LATER

Javier parked his car at the curb. The chaos of curious people had already gathered outside the house. Surely, for people to witness a homicide was not an everyday occurrence, and what had happened at this place woke great concern among the neighbors.

He had been working on the Violent Crimes Division for years. However, despite facing things that people wouldn’t normally endure, he had never fully gotten used to them. He had to face death almost on a daily basis, and yet it hurt to see a human become a lifeless frame on the ground because another person took their life away.

Yet he made his way through the crowd, avoiding the concerned people around him. He passed by reporters who asked such morbid questions he couldn’t even believe. The withering look he gave them was enough to make them feel angry, so he kept walking towards the cordoned house, with some officers making sure no one got too close.

“Good morning, people." He greeted her, crouching down under the police tape.

“Good morning, Peña." Steve was welcomed, joined by their other partner, Lauren.

Javier’s gaze traveled down and up his female partner, mesmerized not only by her blonde hair but also her hips. She was a doll, and he considered himself a lucky guy to witness her presence not only here but inside the four walls of his department almost every night.

“How are you, Javier?” She greeted her, placing and swagging her hair.

“Blessed by your presence here,” he answered, smirking.

Not long after, Lauren furrowed her eyebrows, signaling for their partners to follow her to the crime scene.

“What do we have here?” Javier asked, analyzing the horrid image in front of him.

“Naomi Warren. She was found dead this morning at eight thirty by her roommate. She told us Naomi always ran in the morning; it seemed like some crazy bastard followed her here,” Lauren explained, and they kept studying the situation.

They walked closer, and the girl laying there, lifeless, broke Javier’s heart; she didn’t seem older than twenty-five with a life ahead that stopped so suddenly. She was lying there in a white gown with her hands placed over her chest, holding a bouquet of daisies in between.

“Guys, how are you?” the forensic greeted

“What do you think?” Steven replied, walking around, being careful not to step on the evidence around the girl.

“Do you have the cause of death?” Javier wanted to know, although he could imagine it already.

“It seems like she was strangled, but I’ll be able to tell you more after the autopsy,” she said.

The forensic officer motioned for them to crouch down. But he would initially assume that it was very likely that she had been strangled. The three detectives observed traces of blood in the victim's eyes, and the answer was almost clear.

“There was a note, though,” she clarified.

“A note?” Javier asked, taking a pair of latex gloves from the forensics’ briefcase and kneeling down.

With a gentle hand, he reached out to retrieve the note, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the words written in hurried script, and his brow furrowing in concentration.

The note was brief, yet its message was chilling in its simplicity. "You can't hide forever," it read, the words scrawled in dark ink that seemed to seep into Javier's consciousness like poison.

There was a name next to it: yours.

Javier's heart skipped a beat as he read the name next to the ominous message. It felt like a punch to the gut, the familiarity of the name sending a jolt of recognition coursing through his veins.

As the weight of realization settled upon him, Javier's mind raced with questions. What connection did this person have to the victim? And why had they left such a chilling message behind?

“Who kind of bastard could have done something like this?” Lauren asked as she gazed at Javier’s hands.

"Wait,” Steven said. “Do you remember that case from that girl in Boston?”

“Which one?” Javier asked,

“The girl who went missing for a year?” Lauren questioned.

Javier's mind flashed back to the haunting memories of the Boston case—the details of the missing girl, who had disappeared for a year before her tragic fate was discovered. The parallels between that case and the current one sent a shiver down his spine, the pieces of the puzzle slotting into place with eerie precision.

"The Boston case," Javier muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and determination. "It's all coming back to me now."

Lauren's eyes widened with understanding as she connected the dots, realizing the significance of Steven's mention. "You think there's a connection between that case and this one?" She asked, her voice hushed with apprehension.

“There is a way to find out.” Javier's gaze hardened with determination as he contemplated Steven's suggestion. He knew they had to pursue every lead and exhaust every avenue of investigation to uncover the truth behind the chilling message and its connection to his own name.

"What do you have in mind?" Lauren asked, her voice betraying a hint of urgency.

Javier took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "We need to revisit the Boston case," he declared, his tone resolute. "We need to dig deeper, reexamine the evidence, and see if there are any overlooked connections between that case and this one."

Steven nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Javier's determination. "I'll reach out to the authorities in Boston," he said, his voice steady. "We'll request access to the case files, interview witnesses, and do whatever it takes to uncover the truth."

"I know someone from there," Javier said, his voice resolute as he recalled a contact he had in Boston. The mention of this connection sparked a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that hung over them like a shroud.

Javier had found that you and the victim were, in fact, similar. The eerie similarities between yourself and the victim painted a picture of connection that couldn't be ignored. His heart clenched with empathy as he imagined the fear and uncertainty you must have faced, knowing that the same darkness that had claimed the victim now threatened you.

You had moved from Boston and changed your last name. It was clear that you had been running from the ghosts, seeking refuge from the nightmares that haunted your past. But now, those same nightmares seem to have caught up with you, threatening to consume you once more.

With each passing moment, Javier felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew that time was running out and that he had to act swiftly to ensure your safety.

Armed with newfound resolve, Javier spared no effort in his quest to track you down.

As the first light of dawn broke through the darkness, Javier stood before your door. He knew that this moment would be pivotal and that the truth awaited him on the other side of that threshold.

With a steadying breath, he reached out and knocked, the sound echoing through the silent morning air. Seconds stretched into eternity as he waited, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

And then the door opened, revealing you standing before him, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Javier's breath caught in his throat as he took in your appearance, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Javier drank in the sight of you, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and protectiveness. There was something about you—something that stirred a deep instinct within him. The need to protect, to shield you from all the dangers of the world.

For a moment, he found himself lost in the depths of your gaze, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him like a heavy burden. But then, with a shake of his head, he pushed aside his doubts and fears, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"I'm Detective Javier Peña," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "I need to talk to you.”

#javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javi peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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adventuringblind · 17 days

Text

Teach Me Part Two

Max Verstappen x Reader Part One

Genre: Hurt/Comfort with a speck of spice (technically speaking)

Summary: Max teacher his girl about subdrops and helps her through one of her own

Warnings: Softdom Max, mentions to a past toxic relationship, mentions of choking, subdrop, minor insecurity, Implied smut but nothing graphic, Lando is mentioned for like a paragraph because I can

Notes: For @nurse-sainz who has fueled my brainrot to an unhealthy amount

Side Note: My inbox is open and I crave attention... :)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max had come to the conclusion early on that she would inevitably hit a subdrop at some point. As much as he would like to make it so she never has one, he knows it's going to happen eventually. It's - unfortunately - hard to predict and often random.

Crashing out of a subspace too fast, A used safeword, maybe even just too much stimulation. He's had partners be in that lovely place in their heads and fine only to fall from it without grace and send them into a panic.

“A subdrop? I don’t think I read about those-”

“It’s one of those things that they don’t talk about as much. Hitting a subspace is hard because you have to let go, right? A subdrop is when your mind is stuck between the two. It’s trying to take back control but can’t.” Max pauses the movie they hadn’t been paying attention to. This conversation takes precedence as far as he’s concerned.

She hums and rubs the side of her face against his arm like she’s a cat. “They sound scary. I’m not sure I want to have one of those.”

“Just remember that if you ever do, I’ll be right there with you, yes?”

“Yes.”

He smirks at her. The idea had already been planted in his head. “Yes, who?”

She grumbles. A furious shade of red making its way across her cheeks. The honorifics is a relatively recent thing. The effect it has on her has Max cooing; debating if he should ever let her out of his arms again.

“...Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

~~~♡~~~

Choking had come up a few times in the past. They’d talked about it but not done anything with it. Not since she wasn’t sure. She’d even brought up how her ex (the bastard) had tried to choke her out before she managed to flip them over and bolt to Max’s own room.

He wasn’t going to push for that. Never something that could be triggering. They’d decided that his hand gently putting pressure on the back of her neck was enough. She liked that and Max liked that she was communicating.

But sometimes - even that can be enough to bring back memories. He’d been lucky so far to not have triggered anything. Max knows from experience that even movements that are too quick can have an adverse reaction.

It’s not late, the sun is barely setting over the Monaco sky. Though - he’s not paying attention to the time so it could also be rising. He’d never know the difference. He’s only focused on the mess of a female he has underneath him.

She’s not formed a coherent string of words since orgasm number three. Only able to squeak out his name alongside little whimpers. It’s safe to say Max is pussy drunk and can’t get enough of her. He’s not satisfied yet, and wants to see how far he can push.

Max isn’t sure which touch triggers it. He’s pressed up against her in most spots leaving it hard to decipher where he ends and she begins.

He only notices she’s slipped into that awful middle headspace when he pulls back for just a second, intent on picking his pace back up. The confused fear that settles over her expression makes him freeze, patiently assessing the situation.

Her teeth clatter together, the pain of something evident. The breathing pattern he’d been waiting to even out only gets worse. “Schat, can you take a big breath for me?” He settles the palm of his hand against her rapidly beating heart. His concern only grows when she doesn’t show any signs of hearing him.

She makes a defensive movement to cover her throat with her own hands, silently pleading with her eyes not to touch her in such a vulnerable location. It dawns on him, that in his own flurry of movements, it’s possible he brushed her neck and set off her emotions.

“I’m going to step away from you for a second so I’m not touching, okay?” Her eyes go wide with panic and he knows she’s probably struggling to comprehend. The sadness of her expression kills him as he detaches.

Tears prick her eyes the second contact breaks completely. She snatches hold of Max’s own wrist and in a last ditch effort to make him stay, tries to press his fingers around her airway. “Nonono, schat, I know you don’t want that.” When he’s able to hold her gently once more after having resituated, the sobs she’d been biting back finally escape. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe, I would never do something you didn’t want.”

Max doesn’t grimace when her nails press into his bare skin; when she’s clinging to him for stability. He holds her, hums, helps her to try and steady her breath.

“Mm’ sorry-”

“Shh, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Rest now.”

~~~♡~~~

Max manages to coax her into sleeping. She’s cute like this, curled up against him with her ear pressed against his chest. He presumes the rhythmic sound of his thudding heart is helping calm her mind. He makes a mental note to invest in some kind of white noise for if (he knows it’ll be a when, but he’s choosing to be optimistic).

“Max?” Her eyes crack open, only to shut tight again when she yawns.

“Hello beautiful, how are you feeling?” He tosses his phone aside to give her his full attention.

“Better - I think. I’m not sure I liked that feeling.”

“I would be concerned if you did, schat.”

She stretches her limbs out and flops further over the top of him. “Thank you… I was scared I messed up and you were going to leave.” He has to take a deep breath and remember that anger at the man who put these crazy thoughts in her head is no longer able to come close. He made sure of that with a few cryptic messages glued together in newspaper words and Lando’s artistic assistance.

“You’ve bewitched me! Body and soul… or something-”

“Are you trying to quote Pride and Prejudice?”

“Is it working?” He’s blushing at his own lame attempt. Victoria would have his head for this later. Problems for future Max.

She giggles. “Not really - but I’ll give you a pass this time.”

Max gets her out of bed and into a bath. He makes a show of letting her pout to join her inside win out. He lost that battle before it even started, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s nice… trusting someone like this.” She relaxes against him, the water now lukewarm and the bubbles having dissipated.

“You still trust me?” Oops - Max hadn’t meant to let his own insecurity about the ordeal leak out. Oh well…

She tilts her head in confusion. “Why would I not?”

“It happens sometimes after a drop like that. At least - I’ve heard it can. I figured I was lucky enough that it hadn’t.”

“I think you’re just good at this. Not like you were trying to hurt me.” She shrugs. “I trust you, Max. You have given me nothing but your undying love and support.”

“...Now look who’s being sappy!”

“At least mine is original.”

“Can you at least pretend that I’ve also given you some really good dick?”

“Fine! Nothing but your undying devotion to me and some really dick. Happy?”

Max sighs happily and drags her body as close to his as he can manage. “With you? Always.”

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shoccolatine · 2 months

Note

Do you feel comfortable with writing stuff about mental health issues. Like, MC being depressed due to a mission going wrong or something similar and hiding it from Zayne while they spiral deeper into it until he catches them doing something bad - like idk, self-harm, looking up suicide methods, something like that. Gender neutral reader would be great <3

If you don't want to write this for any reason, feel free to ignore my ask :)

mission failure.

⚘pairing: zayne x gn!reader

⚘summary: after one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. zayne comes to your aid. ⚘tags: sfw, 2nd person POV, gender neutral reader, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive/implied self-harm, mild descriptions of morbid thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst ⚘word count: 2k ⚘a/n: thank you so much for your request, i hope i did it justice! this was a very interesting write and i enjoyed it a lot. i tried to be as delicate and vague with the s/h descriptions as i could so as not to trigger anyone, but this fic still deals with sensitive content so please be safe and take care of yourself! much love 💜

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was it. You just couldn’t do anything right.

Another hunting mission had gone poorly. The third in a row, now. They do say all good things come in threes, but could the same be said of misfortune? It certainly seemed so. The first two mission failures had been played off as flukes, but this time…

You made the long trek back to Headquarters with the weight of a tail dragging between your legs, bearing a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Beside you was Tara, who was not quite so worse for wear and, although disappointed, didn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment as you. After all, she hadn’t been the one to let the Wanderer get away. Again.

“Hey, don’t look so down!” she says, in her usual cheerful tone. She pats your arm in an attempt to be comforting. “Can’t win ‘em all, right?”

You give her a look and a frown. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we? It’s our job, after all.”

“No way! Those Wanderers were tough! I’m amazed we got as far into the Zone as we did!”

But we lost our main target, you thought, yet you held your tongue. There was no changing Tara’s mind once she was set on something. This mission was above her level, anyway, but with every other Hunter either stationed elsewhere or taking a well-deserved break, and Xavier being unreachable as usual, all you had was each other. It had been up to you, as the higher level Hunter, to uphold the team morale and guide you both through a successful mission. But lately, you just kept falling short. Even the most straightforward of missions went awry. Just what was happening?

The entrance doors slid closed behind you as you and Tara headed upstairs for the debrief. Your heart pounded with every step you took. Three failures in a row… Jenna was going to fire you for sure. She might as well do it now, to make space for a newer, better Hunter to take your place and finish your missions properly.

Instead, what came of your debrief was the offering of a week-long break. "Time off to clear your head and refresh," Jenna had said with hard concern, but it might as well have been an arrow to the chest. Just fire me now and get it over with, you thought. Stop wasting everyone’s time and resources and find someone else.

You didn’t need a break. You just needed to be better.

Getting better, however, came with a steep demand you placed upon yourself like a vase upon a pedestal, delicate and teetering. If Jenna wanted to give you another chance, then you would use this week to return to peak performance. You would train, and train, and train, until you were sure to succeed at every mission she threw at you. It was flawless. You’d be back at it in no time.

But as soon as you got off the train and back into your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep.

And sleep you did. You slept until you couldn’t think of those missions anymore, and when the thoughts inevitably returned, you slept again.

“You’re not eating enough,” Zayne said during your following check-up later that week. He stated it so matter-of-factly, like he did with any other diagnosis, never looking up from his computer as he typed something. You never knew exactly what. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a break right now?”

“How do you know that?”

“Word gets around,” he said, the beginnings of a smile etched on his face. You didn't like the idea of people knowing things like that so easily. People sure do like to talk... Zayne's hazel eyes lifted from the screen and over at you. “You need to take better care of yourself. Now is as good a time as any to catch up on your body’s needs.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. Sometimes Zayne needed to mind his own business. Wait, but he was your doctor, and one of your closest friends… What was the matter with you? You really needed to go back to bed and stop being such a nuisance.

Maybe it’d be better if you got out of his life, too.

You met his questioning expression and the heat of your response drained out of your face. At that, you decided you didn’t want to wait for a reply. Whatever he wanted to say to you with that curious expression of his, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t deserve to hear it. You quickly left his office and never looked back. If he called your name as the door to his office slid closed behind you, it went unheard.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

5 missed calls.

Your phone screen blares the message in your face, blinding against the darkness of your room and blurry against the tears that threatened to fall, that had already fallen, that fell and dried and fell again. Your fingers itch to reply, to call him back or send him a text, but what’s the point? He doesn’t really care. He’s probably just going to scold you for leaving your appointment halfway and being childish and not following doctor’s orders and being rude to him.

Not only have you messed up your job, you’re messing up your relationships now, too. When will you ever stop? Can’t it ever stop?

Your phone buzzes and lights up in your fingers as your ringtone sings into your sheets once more. It’s him again. Doesn’t he know when to quit? You watch his name as it waits idly on your screen. It gets tired of waiting, as it always does, and finally disappears. You sigh as another hot tear slips down your cheek.

Something new happens this time.

1 new voicemail, your phone screen reads. You start to slide the notification away, but against your better judgment, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give in, tap the notification, and listen.

The line is silent for a moment, and part of you hopes he gave up and left you nothing.

Finally, after what sounds like a throat clearing, he speaks.

“Hey, it’s me,” Zayne’s voice comes through the speaker. It’s got that usual muffled crackly phonecall texture laid onto it, but it sounds enough like him that it feels like he’s right there with you, underneath the blankets. “Are you alright? …Listen. Whatever it was I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner, but you left so suddenly. Call me when you’re able?”

The silence creeps in again, and you can almost hear him consider saying something more, can almost see his expression as his thoughts thunder in his brain but refuse to leave his lips, but then there’s a click, and the call ends. The robotic voicemail message drones monotonously about saving the message, and halfway through, you hang up, too.

The back of your throat clenches and burns, and you barely fight back a sob as it wrenches itself out of you. Zayne was worried about you. You made him worry. You thought he was mad, you wanted him to be mad, but he’s not. He cares about you. Why…?

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if you could push back the sting of tears that rush, hot and salty, from your bloodshot eyes. It hurts, and you start to see flashes of bright white stars under your eyelids, but it’s better than succumbing to the pain in your chest. Your heart shares a galaxy with the stars in your vision, a dying star that’s fizzling out, or maybe even being consumed by the void of a black hole. How morbidly comforting. You suddenly want to rip it out.

You wonder, just how difficult would it be to separate the Aether Core from your still-beating flesh…?

You try to shake the thoughts from your mind but they hold fast. Throwing the blankets off of your body, you leave your room hobbling like a zombie, make a beeline for the kitchen, and pull open a drawer.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s late at night when there’s a knock at your door. A slight rap of the knuckles. A sharp one, two. Once, then twice, and on the third knock there’s another sound, too. A rattling jingle. And it’s times like these when you curse yourself for giving Zayne the extra key to your apartment.

He calls out your name as he steps in. You barely hear him. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s far away, or speaking quietly, or if you’re just that far gone into your own thoughts that everything else around you is muted.

He might have called only once, or a dozen times, by the time he reaches your room and spots your hunched figure on your bed. He says your name again, and this time you do hear him.

You meet his gaze, steeled with concern, and immediately regret it.

He sees you, really sees you, and all at once your façade crumbles once more. He approaches the edge of your bed, and you turn your eyes anywhere but at him as you brace yourself for impact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

Zayne grabs your wrist. Yet, his touch is gentle—firm enough to grip you, but soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You don't. You’re far too tired to fight anymore. You continue to stare at the floor with teary eyes, but there is resignation hanging heavy on your shoulders, like a wet blanket. Zayne takes your silent compliance as an okay to pull you along with him down the hallway of your dimly lit apartment and into the bathroom.

He sits you down on the toilet. The light clack of the lid hitting the porcelain beneath from your sudden weight seemed to jolt you awake a bit; your eyes refocus and follow his movements as he shuffles through the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a few things and then returns to tend to his patient.

"Hand. Here," he says as he holds out his own. You offer yours, and he meets you halfway. He always does. He’s as meticulous and calm as always as he cleans, disinfects, and wraps your wounds, ever the doctor, but there’s a certain softness in his motions that you’re sure he reserves for only his most cherished patients.

Only for you.

The thought rolls a warm wave over you, the once wet blanket that had been dragging you down now fresh out of the laundry and wrapped carefully around you, cozy and hot and certain. There’s still a bit of damp spots here and there, but those will also dry in time. And you know Zayne will still be here when that time comes.

Your thoughts are broken when long fingers drag against your cheek, wiping away yet more damp spots and fanning through your shining lashes.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Zayne says, repeating his words from earlier that day. Was that really only today? This day was lasting a lifetime. As with before, his tone holds no ice. You regret snapping at him when he was only trying to help. He must feel your tension, because he puffs a breath out through his nose just then, and the warm air tickles the hairs on your forehead. He places a kiss there, the barest brush of his lips on your skin. He pushes your hair back with long warm fingers, tucking a strand behind your ear. “If you need help with that, I’m here. Always. You need only ask.”

Later still and he’s tucking you into bed and giving your forehead another gentle kiss, making you feel like a kid again. He’s surprisingly good at that. You don't know how he does it.

Zayne follows you under the covers, and leaves you an open invitation to snuggle against him, if you wish. You gratefully accept, tucking your head under his chin as he envelops you. He’s very careful not to apply pressure to your bandaged skin.

Right before you fall asleep, he whispers a promise of breakfast tomorrow, and dinner, and whatever else comes next. A promise of staying, no matter what.

#soft zayne is best zayne #change my mind (you won't)#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne lads #l&ds #l&ds x reader #fics

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luvtak · 7 months

Text

jealousy, jealousy, skz

✧ pairing 0t8 x gn!reader

✧ genre/tw fluff!!! disgusting beautiful fluff, the tiniest smidgeon of angst… jealousy (obvs), just boys being cute and whiny lol

✧ w/c 2262 (around 250 each)

✧ a/n literally stayed up all night writing this lmao, hope you like it <333

Chan: So jealous immediately. I think he feels a lot of ownership over the people he loves, not in a weird toxic way, more like ‘these are my people and I'm going to love and protect them’ way, so when anybody looks or speaks to you in flirty ways, he gets uncomfortable really fast. Tries so hard not to make it noticeable or jeopardize your good mood, but is actually so upset about the situation it’s hard to hide. His body language changes right away, all of his easy posture and quick laughs disappear and all that’s left is little smiles and taut muscles. It has less to do with someone thinking his s/o is pretty and more to do with not knowing if the person is dangerous or not, and worrying for your physical and emotional safety–last thing he wants is for you to be hurt in any way, and having someone blatantly look at you reminds him that truly anything can happen :( I don’t think he could be jealous of the Kids at all, they’re literally his children like what are they gonna do? Thinks it's so cute when they hug you or ask for help with something, and wants more than anything for you to get along, so he’s only happy when you do. Only tells you he was jealous when you’re alone laying in bed at night, talking about anything and everything and admitting to be upset about the whole experience. Genuinely so confused when you tell him you know, and never learns that he is so obvious with his emotions–whether positive or negative.

Minho: Honestly, I don’t think he really does get jealous… He seems so secure to me that I feel like it wouldn’t even cross his mind to get upset, actually likes it a little–you’re beautiful and you’re his and he’s proud of that. Except for if it’s one of the other boys, then suddenly very annoyed and possessive haha. Not that he thinks any of them would actually do anything with you, but I think it just hits closer to home–like they could. He is a little mean about it at first, but it quickly becomes sulking, like a child not getting enough attention. His hold on your thigh gets tighter and his fingers wound with yours start pressing in more so it hurts a little, I can see him spacing out a little too–inwardly thinking about all the reasons the person thinks what they’re doing is alright. Most of the time, the boys aren’t doing anything, but something specific they do or say triggers the jealousy and won’t go away. He’s a boy who won’t come clean right away (even though you know exactly what’s happening), instead he waits till you go to bed to press himself on top of you and whine about how rude it was that they were flirting with you (they were not). Needs endless validation and physical reminders of your love for him before he goes back to being himself. Always acts like it didn’t happen in the morning and will laugh at you for thinking it was possible he could have felt that way, while having admitted to it 9 hours before.

Changbin: Very, very cute about his jealousy. Would never mention that it bothers him, wouldn’t point out someone’s stares or ask you to change anything about yourself to garner less attention. Is so proud of his little baby being so pretty they get noticed, but that doesn’t take away the fact that people shouldn’t come up to you. His jealousy would be so specific, he wouldn’t really care if it was just stares or people checking you out, but as soon as someone tries to make a move he is seething. Stares them up and down and looks so intimidating that even you are a little shocked, keeps this attitude until you leave and then needs to be coddled and loved until he will be back to normal. Loves how close to the boys you are but hates how that means he has to share you, he loves being the only one to know special things about you and gets grumpy so quick when he realizes other people know things too. Becomes so, so, so clingy when he’s jealous–hands never leaving your skin, not even for a second. His a million kisses a day becomes two million and he will be stitched to your side. Needs at least a two week recovery period where he is babied and taken care of before he can get over the silly feelings and remember how in love you are. Will not admit to it ever, it could be years in the future and he’d still say you didn’t know what you were talking about. Tries to act so tough, but is really just the sweetest boy to ever exist.

Hyunjin: Gets jealous over silly things and will make it your problem; most of the times it's just a joke, something to get you to fawn all over him and kiss him a dozen times. But because of this, it’s hard to tell when he really is jealous, characterized by melodrama and many questions asking if you’ve ever thought about not being with him come out after someone shoots their shot with you and fails. He is such a romantic that his s/o not being as fully in as he is would be something that would really worry him. Most of the time he can see how in love you are and recognize how strong your relationship is, but as soon as there is someone getting in the way of that it would be hard for him to ignore. I can’t see him getting too jealous over the boys, but would improvise drama level monologues of jealousy if he sees you sitting a little close to one of them on the sofa. One of the only boys where I think he would try to make it up to you, while the others may need comfort from their s/o, I think Hyunjin would feel guilty for second-guessing your relationship even if it was a completely normal emotion he felt toward it. Gives slow kisses and soft sorry’s for hours before he can listen to you tell him why you’re not mad. Loves so hard and so well that jealousy is such a malignant feeling to him, that he would try to separate himself and your relationship from it as soon as he could.

Han: Truly his worst nightmare. He would be such a cozy, sweet, domestic partner that it would probably be pretty rare to go out somewhere instead of staying in, and his mood would be demolished so fast if someone was looking at you or hitting on you in any way. Overthinking and anxiety flow as soon as he notices, and really needs to work his way up to confronting the situation. I believe he would succumb to his thoughts a little and need a lot of comfort from you to feel better about it. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, or think anything could ever happen, but it’s such a reminder of the uncertainty that life brings that it makes him sad. Another one who wouldn’t really get jealous around the boys, but there are specific situations that would bring him down a little–like say you shared a snack with Hyunjin or watched his favorite movie with Seungmin, he is about to become a murderer. Just couldn’t take you doing any casually domestic activity with anyone else that it would annoy him to see it happen. Will be in desperate need of kisses and cuddles to make him feel better, but if he is jealous enough he may pretend like he doesn’t want any just so you could insist and unconsciously give him that validation that he needs. Demands at least two days of pure movie time with you to feel fully back to normal, and will in fact throw a fit if those needs are not met. He is just a sweet, pouty baby normally so it’s not surprising that under the right conditions these traits get magnified tenfold, but it’s okay because he’s so cute.

Felix: About to cry fr. I feel like he doesn’t like feeling any negative emotions associated with you, so when he does it hurts him beyond belief. Trusts you with his life, but as soon as he hears someone hitting on you he gets so sad. Hates that other people can talk to you lol, would rather the only people you speak to be your friends, his friends and your loved ones. He’s not possessive at all, but I do think he genuinely worries about people speaking to you and hurting your feelings or making you uncomfortable, so with the jealousy he is also just so concerned about the person's intentions. Sometimes I think he’d get really mad too, he is such a lovey person that there is no world in which everyone in the area doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend, so when anyone comes up to you he would also be confused at why they thought that was okay. Somehow gets even closer to you; fully wrapped around your bones like a secondskin, walking everywhere with you like you’re doing a three-legged race, a million kisses pressed everywhere his eyes can see. I don’t think he would get jealous about one of the boys being too close to you, he loves you all so much and trusts everyone that it wouldn’t even cross his mind to be jealous about it unless he was making a joke. He is definitely the fastest of all the boys to admit to it, he is so emotionally intelligent and kind that he’d let you know as soon as he felt it was a good time. In conclusion, he is a precious angel and we all know it.

Seungmin: Genuinely the most annoying little gremlin. Turns it on you immediately as if somehow you asked the person to keep sneaking peeks at you. Literally starts making fun of you, mockingly saying ‘wow you’re sooo pretty’ to cover up how upset he actually is about it. I feel like he gets confused when other people find you attractive, not because you’re not, but because you’re his and he just doesn’t think anyone should be looking at you for too long. Will not listen to you that maybe if he actually acted like your boyfriend in public people wouldn’t hit on you haha, he doesn’t see how never touching you and constantly teasing you doesn’t read boyfriend. If it’s one of the boys he’s jealous of and not just some rando, god save them; the meanest glares and most biting jokes he can come up with. Fronts so much in public, but as soon as you’re behind doors he is all over you–kisses all over and a dozen reminders about how much he loves you. Laughs in your face when you ask him if he was jealous, ‘do you want me to be?’ with the biggest side eye. Although I do think he is secretly a huge sap when it comes to his s/o, and will not accept you thinking he doesn’t care even if pretends he doesn’t, so apologizes really quickly if he sees you getting hurt by the nonchalance. Even though he won’t admit to it for at least a week, (everyone knows he was upset about it), he’s taking that to his grave–at least until you look at him for a little too long and he gets freaked out and cops to it lmao.

Jeongin: The fussiest little baby. Like seriously, pouting/stomping feet/crocodile tears fussy baby. See’s someone looking at you at a coffee shop and immediately begins overthinking: ‘do they like them?’ ‘Is that person cuter than me?’ ‘They know we’re a couple right? Right?!’ This all happens in a series of five minutes. Now, he isn’t the most touchy in public–mostly just a hand on your back or fingers intertwined in your pocket, but it should be obvious enough that you’re there together. Immediately stares at the person, all while pretending he isn’t upset, but you can tell right away. For one, the hand on your back suddenly wraps around your tummy to press your back against his front and his head leans down to curl into your neck. Secondly, and most importantly he starts whining about how pretty you are. Not in a cutesy way, like he’s genuinely frustrated that you’re good looking, so pretty that other people notice it too. His bottom lip is jutted out and his eyes are so wide, and you just know. You won’t say anything until you get home for fear of embarrassing him, but he’s noticeably more touchy throughout the day; holding you to him around the boys and glaring at any stranger who looks at you too long. Gets jealous even faster if it's about one of the Kids, has no idea why Chan would be talking to you that long and tries to will him away with his mind–is so embarrassed when you tell him what you were really talking about lol because it was definitely him. When you finally ask him about it later he’ll laugh and act like you’re crazy, as if he hadn’t been acting like a lunatic all day, until apologizing and yelling at you for being too beautiful. All in all very cute and pouty and very charming <3

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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thatonepersonwhocantwrite · 3 months

Text

PLATONIC yandere Percy jackson x mother reader

This is based off the head cannons by Lady-Ashfade @lady-ashfade ( thank you so much for letting me. )

I love Sally I really do and I tried to fit her in but I couldn't fit her in also Percy might be a little Out of character idk how I feel about this

Trigger warnings swearing , Gabe is more abusive like the books that the show , blood

Percy didn't like it when you're attention was on anybody other than him. Percy had never wanted to leave you alone with smelly Gabe and go off to some fancy school so he was relieved when he got home. Actually Percy had straight up refused to go to Yancy Academy because it meant he wouldn't be near you . Also you had gotten a few calls from Yancy saying Percy had sent someone to the hospital because they dared to make a joke about you but did you believe them? No you didn't because in your eyes Percy could do no wrong. Percy stood in front of the door to the apartment but stopped when he heard screaming and the sound of glass shattering and your pained yelp as soon as he heard you're yelp he aggressively opened the door. He saw you clutching your left arm which was bleeding badly and probably had glass in it from the beer bottle Gabe had smashed onto it.

Percy lost it when he saw you in pain . Percy hit Gabe in the back with the closes thing to him which happened to be a pen Riptide although Riptide wouldn't do any good since Gabe is a mortal so Percy just jabbed the pen really hard into Gabes back. “ HURT HER AGAIN AND I'LL SLIT YOUR…..” Percy started but you cut him off. “ Hey I'm ok sweetheart I'm ok.” You said interrupting him. “ I'm ok sweetheart.” Although neither you or Percy were entirely convinced of that. “ Mom you're arm…..” Percy said . “ I'm going to clean up then I have a surprise for you.” You said and walked into the bathroom about twenty minutes later you came out showered and you're arm wrapped. “ I forgot to give these to you.” You said holding out a bag of blue sour strings. “ Thanks mom!” Percy exclaimed. “ Of course sweetheart. That's not the surprise though. We're going to Montauk.” You said. “ Really? Just you and me?” Percy asked excited. “ You were serious about that?” Gabe complained.

“ Yes now give me the dam keys.” You said stretching your hand out. “Never. I'm not handing my keys to my car over to you.” Gabe said. “ Yes. You are.” You replied. “ Give her the fucking keys or I'll do far worse than stick a fucking pen into your back. I'll get a knife and shove it down your …” Percy started. Gabe handed you the keys. Well the trip went wrong quickly. “ Dam it I wish I had more time.” You muttered to yourself. “ Mom what's going ON???! AND WHAT'S THAT THING CHASING US???!” Percy shouted. Cue Grover trying to explain. It shattered the glass of the driver window and jammed its horn into the steering wheel causing it to be hard to do anything really. Well the car got flipped. “ Percy I need you to listen to me. What ever happens stay strong my brave boy. Stay strong and brave. I love you my sweet boy. “ You said gently before taking his jacket. “ Mom what are you doing? Mom you're scaring me.” Percy said. “ I love you my sweet boy. Grover make sure he gets to camp.” You said. “ Wait why do you need my jacket mom?” Percy asked. “ He smells half blood…. That's what he's after maybe I can confuse him.” You said.

“Mom No!” Percy exclaimed . You sighed softly pressing his forehead against yours. “ I love you sweetheart but right now you need to be brave.” You said before the minotaur roared again and you ran the opposite direction buying some time for Percy and Grover. The minotaur grabbed you. “ MOM!” Percy shouted . You felt your world go dark. “ NOOOO!” Percy yelled . He charged sword first. “ COME BACK WITH MY MOM YOU FUCKING COWARD!” Percy shouted he wasn't calling you a coward he was calling the minotaur a coward even though he saw it turn to dust. “ Fuck you dad you're a disappointment you couldn't even save my mother. You don't deserve this .” Percy said bitterly putting a blue sour string into the fire.

He jumped on the quest when he found out you might alive somehow. Honestly Percy and Grover were shocked to see you calmly sipping coffee ( or tea if you prefer it or are allergic to dairy) like nothing had happened with Persephone. Also Hades was chill as fuck. “ MOM!” Percy said literally tackling you off the chair and onto the floor into a hug. You chuckled slightly. “ Hi sweetheart.” You said hugging him back tightly. Percy had his precious mother back and he didn't intend to let you go ever again. Even if that meant he had to tear Mount Olympus apart .

Here's the link to Lady-Ashfade's head cannons

#x reader #yn #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #platonic Percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson fic #female reader

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00ops1e · 10 months

Text

taskforce 141 + könig x sick! reader

warnings: emetophobia trigger warning, mentions of puking/being sick, fluff, hurt/comfort maybe??, not proofread a/n: omg here it is. the first cod thing ive written! but not actually theres some filth hiding in my documents. this is totally lowkey a self insert. geared towards female! reader but if you squint at the petnames could be gn. i've been so so sick lately and tbh scares me a lil but what cant be fixed by fictional men?? nothing.

Ghost

A little bit of a germaphobe

Will take off his mask, but replace it with a medical mask

Only so he can still hold you, just with a peace of mind

He does NOT want to get sick too

Because then how could he take care of you?

Always has a puke bowl at the ready

Orders your favorite takeout, even if you don’t feel like eating

Because hes a firm believer in leftovers.

Which may just be the cause of this

But you'd never tell him. poor man would get so guilty he had forgotten to throw it away.

Puts on a movie and lets you fall asleep on his chest

I feel like he’s a cold-blooded type of person, doesn’t generate much heat

but makes up for it in comfort

so many blankets

so so many.

Checks your temperature in your sleep

Lowkey counts respirations just to be sure

Makes sure you keep hydrated

Will bring you to urgent care if he’s really worried

No matter how much you protest!

Soap

Squeamish when it comes to throwing up

Will try his very best to stay with you, but sometimes ends up running from the room

Because the last thing he'd wanna do is gag at you

While hes ran away he gets a cold rag to press on your forehead, and clean you up a bit in the process

"yer hidin? awh bonnie i wasnt meanin' to embarrass ye" he says while taking your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes

"sickness and health yeah? i wanna take care of you"

Insists on rubbing vicks/ vaporub on you

Not because hes a little perv (he is)

But because he loves you and the sniffles break his little heart

peppers kisses across your collarbones, vicks smell clogging his nose

but he’s too focused on the goosebumps that rise on your skin, your little shivers

“Awh, my poor sick lass,”

Constantly checking for a fever

Forcing you to stay in bed, even after you feel better, “not takin chances, rest up.”

this man on the other hand is a human space heater

throwing a blanket on and off the two of you, getting too hot and then shortly after too cold.

not as convenient when it’s hot out lol

head rubs

Gaz

Tries to bring you to a doctor/ urgent care immediatley

Will try to call an ambulance over a slight fever

Stocks up on pedialyte/makes sure youre hydrated

Cuddles constantly, does not care if he catches anything

loves being the big spoon so he can lay in the crook of your neck and still hold onto you tight

Has extra blankets on deck

entertains you with silly little jokes

but then apologizes while giggling because you laughed so hard it hurt a little.

Will feed you cold medicine/tums

teases you when you complain about taking them

“i don’t need you gettin any grumpier love”

Will hold back your hair/ stroke your back while youre getting sick

gets offended when you get embarrassed about it

“are you judging my girl?” he teases you

Tries his best to cook, but lowkey fails miserably

Resorts to cup of noodles and lipton packets.

Price

Such dad vibes

Will make soup or other comfort foods from scratch

And his cooking skills are unmatched

Runs you a shower/bath and washes your hair for you

back rubs and massages

pressing small kisses to your shoulders as he works

also a human heater but not too hot, just the perfect temperature

also just the perfect shape to spoon you, cradling every inch of your body

“I hate it when my baby’s sick,” he says, rubbing soft circles into your side

Doesnt even have to make a pharmacy run because hes so well prepared

Feeds you medicine, on the dot, every few hours after it wears off

(he totally sets reminders in his phone. [typing like an old person with reading glasses on])

Will stay in bed all day with you, quietly typing and mumbling to himself while you nap at his side

occasionally leaning down to kiss your forehead while he works

the computer goes away as soon as you wake up

"how're you feeling princess?"

loves having you in his arms, pulled close to his chest

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch (bridal style ofc)

Will hold your hair back, refuses to leave your side

“Of course youre not gross darling, we all get sick,”

Konig

rubs your back as you're hunched over the toilet

will sit down with you on the floor, back up against the bathtub when its too much of a risk to leave the bathroom

just wants to keep you company :(

"take as long as you need, liebling"

fills up the tub while still convincing you to get in

he promises you'll feel better after

caves and offers to join you as a last resort to get you cleaned up

Long baths, cuddling in the warm water

Letting the steam clear your sinus

Brushes and braids your hair

when you start feeling better but are still running a fever, hes worried.

but youre dealing with a burst of energy and simply must start with the housework

konig will put you over his shoulder and escort you back to bed

will paint your nails in bed to entertain you, anything to keep you still and in bed

Lets you put your cold feet on him, but only when you dont feel good

totally unprepared because i feel like this man has an immune system of steel

makes a quick pharmacy run, but has to call you for the shopping list bc oops he forgot

depending on how sick you are, lets you come along for the ride

“promise you’ll stay in the car ja?”

always returns with a sweet little treat or small gift/toy for you

“gesundheit!” as he chuckles at your sneeze

jokes that maybe he should put a mask on you

722 notes · View notes

juniperskye · 27 days

Text

Like I Talk To Myself.

Sneak Peek: Being the new kid in school has Jason and his asshat friends saying some horrible shit to you. In attempt of being your white knight, Eddie finds out that it’s not Jason and his goons who you need to be saved from. Eddie’s POV. Indented section is a phone call (italics are Eddie and bold is Wayne)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2004

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, language, reader is clinically depressed, mentions of abusive home life, description of injuries from abuse, bad medication management, self-deprecation, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm, description of injuries related to self-harm. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING TO YOU!!! If I missed any, let me know!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The new girl had been here for nearly two months now. I had tried really hard to hide how into her I was, but the guys pretty much guessed it the second they saw me checking her out. She was different than the girls here in Hawkins, she kept to herself, not pursuing the usual popular guys. Truthfully he hadn’t seen you attempt to pursue anyone in your time here.

She was in my math class and every day she would come in with her head down, hood up, and quickly find a seat in the back. She’d end up doodling most of the class, like she was right now. The bell ringing startled her, I really wanted to reach out and comfort her, she seemed like she needed it.

I exited the classroom right behind her, only to watch Andy slam right into her. Her books went flying all over the hallway and Andy started yelling at her.

“Watch where you’re going you stupid bitch.” Andy roared.

“Woah Andy, back off. You ran into her!” I had no idea why I was interjecting.

“Oooh I get it! The freak found himself a freakette.” Jason chimed in.

“No, that’s not…” I stuttered.

“I don’t give a shit. Just keep that bitch on a leash, or next time, I’ll kick your ass.” Andy barked.

I looked back to see her scrambling to grab her things and make her way out the doors that lead to the football field. Jason and his idiot friends had been treating her like this since she arrived. They had initially tried to get in her pants and when she refused they called her things like prude, virgin Mary, but then it escalated to slut and whore. And now their name of choice had been bitch.

I made quick haste of following her, something in me just needed to make sure she was okay. As I moved to trail her, my foot made contact with something. I glanced and recognized it immediately as the notebook she’s always carrying. I picked it up and a few pages fell out, leaning over to grab them, my breath escaped me. The words and images scrawled on these pages were dark.

I picked up the pace and saw that she was headed to the picnic table in the clearing. I wasn’t far behind, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t startle her, so I called after her, just as she was sitting down.

“Hey!”

“What do you want?” She snapped.

“I uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Plus, I wanted to give this back to you.” I explained.

“Did you go through this?” She accused.

“No, but some of the pages fell out and I did see them…you’re not gonna go through with it are you?” I asked.

“Dude, that is none of your business. It’s not like anyone would miss me anyway.”

“I would.” I mumbled.

“You don’t know me.” She said.

I moved to sit next to her on the bench, sure to leave her enough space. Being this close to her, I could see how her skin looks dull, her cheeks sunken in, her hair looked brittle. In front of me was a girl who was going through a really hard time, and I wanted to do anything in my power to lift some of her burden.

“I don’t know much about you, but I’d really like to. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Jason’s torture.”

“Eddie, if they think that they can make me cry more than me, they’re wrong. It’s my voice in my head telling me I’m better off dead. Not Jason’s, not Andy’s, mine.” She explained.

I was speechless, I truly couldn’t believe that she felt this horrible. I had seen this girl and the amazing things she was capable of; she had silently helped others in her time here. She would loan out a pencil if it was needed, she had given her lunch to a kid who couldn’t afford it, hell, she had pulled a kid out of the way of Andy in the hall just last week so they wouldn’t have to endure what she did today. She was such a good person and he wished she could see it.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked her.

“I guess…you already know way too much about me.” She shrugged.

“In your notebook, I saw something about you hurting yourself…is that true?”

She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. I was fully expecting her to tell me off and walk away, I had clearly pushed a boundary. But instead, she reached for her zipper, pulled it down and slid her jacket off her shoulders. She folded it neatly and placed it on the table, revealing her arms to me. A choked noise escaped my throat as my eyes roamed over the number of scars that littered her arms. There were scars that were clearly from cigarettes, other burn type scars and a bunch of neat parallel lines that varied in color. Some were white and obviously healed, some were raised scars from the depth, and some were red and recently scabbed over.

“It’s bad. I know.” She shook her head, a tear falling and landing on her jeans.

“Hey, there is no judgement. I just, I am curious to know why.” I replied.

“Why? I don’t…I’ve never been asked that before. I mean my parents treat me like shit, my dad likes to fight when he’s drunk. And my mom, she belittles me every chance she gets…she thinks depression is a joke and that I am making things up. Even after being diagnosed, she still thinks I am trying to get attention, she withholds my prescription from me sometimes.” She paused, she looked surprised at herself that she’d been able to vent freely.

“Honestly Eddie…by inflicting physical pain, I am able to shift my focus to that instead of the emotional pain. It allows me this release of all the horrible shit I am feeling after dealing with school or home.”

I looked at her, gently reached up to brush a strand of her hair back and then grabbed her hand. I locked eyes with her again, to make sure she was okay with this, and when she nodded subtly, I brought her wrist to my lips and placed a light kiss there.

“I just want the pain to end Eddie.” She sniffled.

“I know that things are really shitty right now, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it’ll get better, but I do know that there are steps we can take to improve it little by little and I want to help you do that if you will let me.”

*Two Months Later*

I had just gotten to school and made my way to her locker and waited, just as I had done every day for the last two months. I had promised her that I would be by her side in any way I could, and I wasn’t about to break that promise. Only, today she didn’t show. Maybe she was running late…right? I headed off to English and hoped I would see her in third period for math. When she wasn’t there, I knew I had to find her.

I left the school and drove straight to her house; I couldn’t stomach the thought of what I might find. I didn’t want to drive without knowing if she was okay, but I also couldn’t waste any more time.

I didn’t take the time to park, leaving the van diagonally in her driveway. Rushing over to the door and throwing it open.

“Hey peach, you here?” I called out, hoping she’d be sick on the couch, but when I was met with silence I made my way to the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Peach?”

I heard a quiet sob come from the bathroom and began knocking.

“Hey peach, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“No Eddie, go away, please.” She cried.

“You know I can’t do that, not until I see you’re okay.” I pleaded.

The lock to the door clicked after a moment and I quickly opened the door. The sight I was met with was one I never wish to see again. She was sat on the bathroom floor in a tank top and shorts, drops of blood were pooling on the tiles below her. Only it wasn’t of her own doing, she had a black eye, split lip and eyebrow, a sizeable cut across her cheek, and bruises littering her arms and legs.

“Peach. Who did this to you?”

“Eddie…”

“Peach. Who. Did. This.”

“My dad.” She sobbed, dropping her head into her hands.

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. My vision was tinted in crimson, rage filling my being. I knew I needed to keep my cool though, I didn’t want to upset her anymore than she already was.

I looked at her and asked her if I could help clean up those cuts. She nodded and let me lift her to the countertop. I cleaned and bandaged her cuts and helped her to her room, I told her to lie down and went to grab her a water and some Tylenol. Once in the kitchen I grabbed the phone, dialing home.

Hey Wayne…I need a favor. My friend, That girl you call peach? yeah peach. Are you with her now? Tell her I said hi! I will Wayne. She uh, she needs a place to stay. Eds we shouldn’t get into other people’s business…plus she’d have to stay in your room…and I don’t want any funny business under my roof. No, I know. Wayne it’s bad. She can stay here. Okay, thank you.

I made my way back to her room and handed her the water and Tylenol. I didn’t know how to suggest to her that we pack all her stuff and get her out of here, but I know I needed to. She deserved to be in a home where people loved and cared about her…not stuck here in this hell her parents have created for her.

“Hey peach…”

“Eddie…”

“You go first.” I suggested.

“I um, I know it’s a big ask…but do you think maybe I could…you know what never mind.” She shook her head.

“I called Wayne when I was downstairs. I asked him if you could stay with us, and he said yes.” I explained.

“Really? Thank you Eddie!” She sniffled and pulled me into a hug.

“Let’s get you packed!”

After gathering her things, we made our way out to the van. She left a note for her parents explaining that they didn’t need to worry about her, not that they had before. And we headed back to the trailer. Wayne came outside to help bring her things in as we pulled up, when he saw her face, he glanced at me and gave me a short nod. We got her things inside, and I helped her unpack some of her stuff.

Wayne ordered us a pizza and bid us goodnight as he left for work. I let her shower first and then after we’d both showered and brushed our teeth, we got into bed. Only after she told me it was unacceptable for me to sleep on the floor.

“I gave him the finger.” She whispered.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“He was yelling at me and calling me names. I uh, I gave him the finger and told him to go to hell.” She explained.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled “I’m not going to tolerate being called useless, stupid, or being told I am too hard to love. Not by them and not by me. Not anymore.” She turned over and smiled at me.

I couldn’t help but smile back. She was so easy to love, and I couldn’t wait to show her that.

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sailor-aviator · 4 months

Text

Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @pinkdaisies1106 @hookslove1592 @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @justherebecausesafarisucks @jupitercomet @atarmychick007 @katfanfic @topnerd03 @smileybouquet @roger-that-cap @crybaby-21 @vixenobrian @butterfly-skinnylegend @nouis-bum @eloquentdreamer @els-marvelvsp @bearw1thme @diorrfairy @seresinsbrat @what-did-you-just-say @na-ta-sh-aa @rosedurin @rhettsluvr @djs8891 @roosteraloha @yelrah27 @takens-world @fudge13 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @burrowsmuse @senawashere @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @susseysstuff

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster top gun #top gun rooster #slm #stranger like me #tarzan!bradley

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