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algesalges · 2 years

Text

Vers Moi: Part 3

Chamber x Fem!reader

NSFW (18+) Minors do not interact

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Smut and some fluff (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT). Finger penetration, oral (fem receiving). handjob, maybe a tiny bit of angst, hickeys. prob spelling mistakes. Tell me if I should add anything else

P.S,

Neptune, don't you think this is too fast? And my answer to that is idk I am just writing stuff and submitting it. Again MDI. Uh enjoy, btw I will take like headcannons or requests, I am a bit in writers block so I needs some helps here :'1 anyway hope you ENJOY

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You never bothered to explain to Brim what had actually happened back at the villa. There was more you needed to find out before reporting back to Brim. It did take the Agents awhile to get back. Only Viper, Killjoy and Raze arrived first.

“How are the others”?

“Fine, no one got killed, a few injured, Raze got burnt super hard by Phoenix's flame, but I am super tired”, Killjoy yawns as she is ready for bed. She volunteered to do Comms instead, since she can just place her bots on site. Raze seemed fine but needed to refresh. Viper per usual is as stoic as ever.

“Heard you and the new agent are getting along”.

“You could say that”.

“Not one is in critical condition, Sage is on site with them, no need to worry”.

Viper smiled at you and walked towards her bedroom, then turned behind her to look at you before you could ask anything.

“He’s staying you know, to guard the spike, I’m not sure if you realized but someone interfered with the security, probably Cypher, stay safe y/n”.

She shrugged her shoulders and wished you goodnight. She was a mellow person, never bothered anyone, but always had heart inside even if it did not seem like it. Always felt to her in an unprofessional way, she always seemed like a mother figure to you and Sage as well.

The rotation was going to happen early in the morning, all night you were asking yourself questions about the Mirror Chamber, did the actual Chamber make a deal, is he hurt? Why did he spare you, why did Yoru hesitate?.

Everything seems so overwhelming that the only solution was to sleep while you could before something new happens. You didn’t expect to stay a few more days in the villa. Brim reported they just needed to double check before going back to the agency.

The covers started to keep that perfect ratio of warm and cold, everything seemed to fade. Your lids became heavy. A part of you became worried that Chamber was one of the injured, did Mirror Chamber do something? You were a mental wreck, nothing seemed to sooth you.

Eventually you were pulled into sleep. You also felt something move next to you and pull you in. The scent of a french vanilla cologne washed over you , Vincent snuggled himself between your neck and shoulder. You felt relieved he was alright, you caressed his hand.

“You scared me”.

“Je me pardonne, I am a bit stressed”.

You turned around to face, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, you admired the spots you never get to see on his face, you gently placed your hand onto his cheek and rub circles.

“I am sorry I was not there mon coeur”.

“What do you have to be sorry about, you’re the one who's hurt no”?

You saw a small bandage wrapped around his forearm, he explained how Reyna barely missed him while he was up on a tower aiming at her. You lifted yourself to examine the wound a bit, it seemed small, the bullet just nicked him was all.

“Why did you not tell Brim about Yoru”.

You were caught by surprise, there would be no way of him knowing, was it true he is working with his double?

“I and the other Chamber made a deal to protect you”.

“What”?

Chamber pulled you in closer, kissed your forehead. He massaged your hair with his hand.

"There is nothing to worry. But you scared me mon amour”.

Instinctively you look up towards Vincent, wrap your arms around his neck and look him in the eyes. The moment relaxed you both, the presences were enamored with each other. You took the moment in, before you went in to kiss him. It was deep and soft, it felt like finally coming out of water and breathing for the first time. It has been awhile since you kissed someone, it made you a little unexperienced, but Vincent’s was leading the way. Your hands explored each other, Chamber’s hands became lower, grabbing your behind. He flipped you both so you were laying on your back, his kisses became deeper and desperate, he has been longing for this. To have you at his mercy, so he could show his admiration to you, his love for you.

He started to lower himself to your neck and then sweet spot. He liked the way you whimpered when he nipped your skin. He soothes the bites small kisses. He lowered the straps of your gown to have your breast exposed to him.

“You are extravagant my dear”.

He kneaded your left breast in his hand as he devoured the over in his mouth. His teeth pinched your bud, you gave little high pitched moans, trying to avoid making too much noise. While he was filling his insatiable appetite you ran your fingers through his hair, he appreciates your touch and starts to move even lower pulling your bottoms off. You became nervous, you never had a real sex life, and finally was going to happen.

“C-chamber..Please be gentle, I've never done this before..”

He looked at you, you did not seem to be distressed, more hot and bothered. The sight of you all flushed up and lidded eyes made him crave you even more, but had to hold himself back. He had to constraint himself, this was a bit too fast, but also did not want to leave you in this state.

“Tell me if you need to stop”.

You nodded, he gave you one last kiss before slowly going down to trailing his breath from your chest, down to your core, your spine shivered with anticipation. He skipped your core and went to knead your thighs instead. He wanted to leave little purple and teeth marks, marking you as his. When you whined from your heat being ignored, Chamber took notice of your impatience, he lifted both thighs above his shoulders. He first gently flicked your clit, and giving tiny ministrations. He then did a circle method, he inserted a finger to your core, it caught by surprise making to release a large moan, but quickly caught it by placing your hand on top. After stretching you a bit more he added another. The stretch felt so good, never had such a filling sensation. He went to pay more attention to your pearl and sucked hard, your hand clenched onto the bedsheet and his hair, causing him to groan against your mound giving a vibrating sensation. Vincent curled his fingers and moved them in a wave motion hitting a certain spot repeatably, making your back arch. A strong tight sensation was forming in the pit of your stomach. Your thighs were shaking a bit, you felt a bit overwhelmed and afraid of the sensation.

“Vincent I feel-l, weird down there~..”

He seemed to grin at your words, “Let it go for me ma belle, I promise it will feel good”.

When the knot became too tight to hold anymore you released, you felt your thighs shaking violently. You gave a empty high pitch moan. Chamber had to hold your thighs away to prevent his head being crushed. He continued to clean you up with his tongue, enjoying every last bit of you cum.

He came back up to meet you face to face, he gave you a passionate kiss, you could taste yourself from his tongue. He seemed to not make anymore advancements. More enjoying the current moment.

“Vincent, don’t you want to continue”?

He shook his head, he was too afraid to deflower you right now.

“That is too soon my love”.

You frowned, you felt guilty receiving all the pleasure. Understand he is a gentleman, but you felt generous and in the moment. You saw the tight tent of his pants, he seemed restrained, if it was only fair if you helped him a bit too.

“Please let me help you”. You snuck your hands to his belt, he stopped you by holding your wrist.

“We’re not going to go that far”.

“Still you look a little bit in discomfort, please it’ll make me happy”.

He pecked your cheek giving you the ok, while your hands were digging for the prize. You lowered his pants, and his boxers were the only barrier between you and him. His cock was pick and flushed, it was thick and glorious. The size seemed a bit threatening for your core, but that wasn’t what you were going to do. The tip was coated with some pre cum, you put your thumb and played with the flush red tip. Chamber seemed to be sensitive in that part, your hands almost barely wrapped around his member. You stroke him in a circular motion.

Vincent’s head fell between your neck and shoulder. To be honest this action made you a bit nervous and aroused at the same time, you’ve never really touched one in your life or seen one this pretty. Chamber made soft moans against your neck. You took that as a sign and started to fasten your pace. Chambers hands gripped onto the sheets, you could tell how he moved his waist to your hand movements. His climax was soon. After a few more pumps, Vincent groaned as he spilt onto your tummy. He took a few more breaths, you felt him twitch while still in your grasp.

He brushed your hair out of face to give you a kiss. Your body was slumped. You never were given such pleasure, or given such pleasure. Chamber cleaned up his mess and put a pair of boxers on, he went to the bathroom to come back with a warm wet cloth to clean you up.

You were so sleepy, you fell right asleep as soon as you laid onto his chest. When you were fast asleep Vincent whispered, “I can’t help falling in love with you y/n”. But he knew you were not ready for that and needed maybe some more time.

#Chamber x reader #Smut #Chamber smut #Valorant x reader #Valorant x y/n #Chamber x y/n

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jewelleria · 3 years

Text

if i had a heartbeat — remus lupin

summary: the gryffindor common room is warm and welcoming, but not as much as the arms of one of your favourite people after a tiring day for the both of you.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: fluffy fluff, angst but not really, cuddling.

a/n: this is my first oneshot here on tumblr, so i hope you all like it! i wrote this for a writing challenge celebrating @yourssuccubus reaching 400 followers (prompts are in bold)!! congrats sarah, i hope you enjoy this <3

“Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“No, silly,” said a voice from behind you. “I’m Sirius.”

Whipping around, you rolled your eyes at the taller boy standing next to your chair. Sirius was carrying two books — a rare occurrence, to be sure — and was leaning against one of the many shelves that lined the Hogwarts library. His usual smirk made you purse your lips.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” you snarled. “How long has it been, an hour?”

Smiling sheepishly, Sirius let the textbooks in his arms spill onto the table the two of you were sharing. You narrowed your eyes at the cover of the first one.

“Sirius, I just put that book back,” you sighed. “If you’re going to pretend to help with this project, at least do it right.”

Scowling at you, Sirius propped his feet up on the desk, and you moved your chair sideways in disdain. For some time, the two of you stayed that way — you bent over a roll of parchment, your quill making rhythmic scritch-scratch noises as you wrote, and Sirius flipping absent-mindedly through a textbook without really reading it.

“Are you done yet?” Sirius asked after a while, his voice taking on an irritating whine.

You looked up and raised an eyebrow. “I’d already be done if you actually helped me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who offered to do it all yourself,” Sirius pointed out, shrugging. “And I didn’t ask to be paired up with you, you know.”

“Well, neither did I,” you snapped, setting down your quill and crossing your arms in front of your chest, “but since both of our partners are conveniently absent, there didn’t seem to be much of a choice, did there?”

“Look,” Sirius began, swinging his feet off the table. “They’re not conveniently —”

“Really? Last I saw him, James was running down the first floor corridor with a bag of Honeydukes chocolate,” you said, shaking your head as you fiddled with the end of your eagle-feather quill. “And Merlin only knows where Remus has been — I haven’t seen him for the past two days.”

For a moment, you almost saw Sirius swallow nervously, but he quickly replaced it with a smirk. “Well, everyone’s got to skip class once in a while, eh?”

“No.” You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples to ease an oncoming headache. “I miss Remus.”

“Oh, do you now?” Sirius asked slyly.

“Not like that, stupid,” you scolded, gathering up your belongings and putting them in your bag and feeling the back of your neck heat up. “He’s just... more tolerable when it comes to assignments.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Sirius said, not moving from his chair as you stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder. He watched curiously as you pushed your chair back in. “Giving up, are we?”

“No, I’ll finish it tomorrow,” you sighed. “C’mon, it’s getting late. Don’t want Filch to catch us.”

“Oh, sweet, innocent Y/N!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically, jumping up from his chair and pretending to faint. “Don’t you know me well enough to know I never get caught?”

“Your detention last night says otherwise.”

Sirius ignored you as the two of you left the library and walked in silence down the corridors and back to Gryffindor tower. The evening sky wasn’t yet dark, but you could see from the windows you passed that the dark blue would soon fade to black, and the air in the castle would get colder, just as it always did at night. Blowing out a quiet breath, you stopped in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait and waited until Sirius gave the password (which you usually tended to forget) and the portrait swung open.

You clambered through the portrait hole after Sirius, setting your bag down next to the nearest sofa and collapsing onto the soft, overstuffed cushions. Sirius called a hasty goodnight before skipping up the stairs to the boys’ dorm, calling Peter’s name.

The common room was silent except for the steady crackling of the hearth, and most of the students save for a few seventh years had gone up to bed. You closed your eyes, nudging off both of your shoes with your toe and letting the fire warm your socks.

From behind the sofa where you sat, the sound of the portrait hole opening reached your ears, followed by a whisper and a quiet laugh. You used your elbows to push yourself up and turned around, peeking over the back of the sofa. There, standing next to the now closed portrait, stood James Potter and Remus Lupin.

You narrowed your eyes and started to stand up when you laid eyes on Remus and had to stifle a gasp. He looked — and there was no other word for it — like death. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than when you’d last seen him, and he’d gained a new scar, the angry red mark stretching from his collarbone to his jawline.

It wasn’t uncommon for Remus to disappear every once in a while. It was never for too long, and hardly lasted for more than a day; but he never came back with injuries. At least, not visible ones.

And his excuse was always the same: his mother was ill. According to Remus, she’d been ill for the past six years, since you’d started Hogwarts.

As you watched, James squeezed Remus’s shoulder gently and adjusted his hold on the same Honeydukes bag he’d been running down the first floor corridor with. “Want me to help you upstairs, mate?”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I need to finish an assignment.”

James nodded and retreated up the stairs, just brushing your arm, and you sank back into the sofa cushions, frowning. Where had Remus been? Why had James gone with him? And, for Merlin’s sake, was Remus okay?

Your friendship with the Marauders had started at the beginning of the year. Really, none of you knew how it came to be, only that Remus was an exceptional study partner and that his friends never failed to make you laugh so hard it hurt.

But this... this was worrying.

A shadow made you look up. Remus was standing beside the sofa, evidently trying to back away before you noticed him, but it was too late. You smiled softly at him.

“What were you doing out so late?” you asked quietly, moving over to make room for Remus, who sat down beside you with tensed shoulders.

“Erm, prefect duties,” Remus mumbled, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“James isn’t a prefect.”

Remus swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his honey-coloured eyes darted nervously from side to side. “We were — he was just —”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted, leaning forward just slightly. “I won’t pry.”

After a moment of silence, Remus nodded and pulled his knees to his chin, staring at the dying flames. He looked pale, and the shadows made his features look hollow — sickly, even. It was hard to believe he was only sixteen, with the dimmed look in his eyes and the scars that seemed older than him.

Taking a deep breath, you tucked your socked feet under you and reached out a hand, resting it gently on Remus’s forearm. He looked up at you, and something in him seemed to give, because the moment the two of you made eye contact, Remus’s demeanour relaxed and he let go of his legs, letting them rest on the couch with his feet touching the carpet.

“But I am worried about you, Remus,” you admitted, and the moment the words left your mouth, he broke eye contact. “Are you alright?”

Letting out a small sigh, Remus ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve just had a rough day.”

You nodded. “Those happen to the best of us.” You nudged his shoulder with your elbow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Slowly, Remus shook his head and moved hand to rest on yours; you felt a blush start to form on your cheeks, and internally chided the rebellious fluttering in your chest. It’s just Remus, you reminded yourself. Get it together.

“Not really,” Remus replied, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I’d rather you just hold me.”

“Oh,” you breathed, wishing your hands weren’t sweating so much as you watched Remus’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn the colour of his Gryffindor jumper.

“I — I just meant —” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “That came out wrong, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that —”

“Hey,” you said gently, trying to channel the sort of energy Lily did whenever someone was upset and inwardly cursing your voice for shaking. “It’s fine. If you need a hug, I’ll give you one.” You shrugged. “Honestly, I could use a hug, too.”

Remus didn’t answer, so you scooted forward until your knees were touching and rested your arm on the back of the sofa so your hand was level with his head. Hesitantly, you carded your hand through the soft brown curls, running a lock of hair softer than silk between your fingers. Remus leaned his head against your forearm and let out a contented sigh that made your heart rate speed up.

Peering up at you through his eyelashes, Remus’s lips twitched slightly, but his blush didn’t fade — and so, before you could lose your courage, you whispered, “You still want that hug, or what?”

"If... if it’s okay,” Remus muttered.

You nodded and leaned against the back of the sofa, letting Remus sink into your embrace and put his head on your chest. Slowly, you adjusted your position until you were lying on the sofa with Remus curled into your side, his head resting just above your heart, which was beating so fast you almost thought it would explode.

Because Merlin, this was Remus — quiet, shy, closed-off Remus, who you didn’t know as well as James, Peter, and Sirius, and who had always seemed like he didn’t like touching other people. Aside from the fact that he was your study partner, the two of you rarely talked one-on-one, and now here he was, falling asleep on your chest.

But instead of speaking, you just continued to play with Remus’s hair, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. It didn’t help; your heart was still beating so loudly that you were sure Remus could hear it.

Reaching down, you ran your thumb over Remus’s cheekbone, watching as the corners of his lips turned upwards. After a few seconds of silence, Remus extended his arm across your torso, rubbing his own thumb over the dip in your hips, as if to say don’t let go.

And so, despite the deafening pounding of your heart in your ears, you buried your face into Remus’s hair and closed your eyes.

“Your heartbeat is calming,” Remus whispered into your collarbone, and you opened your eyes slowly, wondering if this was all just a surreal sort of dream.

“I’m certainly not calm,” you mumbled, and Remus’s shoulders shook slightly as he chuckled.

“Well, I’m not either,” Remus replied, so quietly you had to strain your ears. “So we’re even.”

Letting your eyelids flutter closed, you intertwined your legs with Remus’s and continued to rub your thumb on the soft skin of his cheek. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound apart from the heartbeat both of you could hear.

request a fic / masterlist

#yourssuccubus400writingchallenge #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #marauders imagine #the marauders #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders era

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

what if... someone made a clone of geralt o.o complete with memory and everything

okay this one was fun to figure out. hope you enjoy! LOVE your art btw. I am honored as heck to have you in my inbox. <3

It also got kinda long.

---

“Am I still dreaming, or have I been cursed to see double?”

“Hmm,” reply the two identical Witchers staring down at him. They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the far edge of camp, likely sensing his apprehension and trying to make him more comfortable by keeping their distance.

“It’s a curse,” the grumpier of the two Geralts replies, stepping forward. The Original, Jaskier thinks. “Apparently I need to have a good talk with myself and figure some things out.”

“Like what?” Jaskier asks. He’s still sitting up in his bedroll, hair like a bird’s nest and eyes bleary with sleep. He looks so soft and both Geralts ache to hold him and press gentle kisses atop the crown of his messy head.

“I guess we’ll figure that out,” says the second Geralt, crossing his arms over his chest. He seems softer, somehow. Gentle around the edges where Jaskier’s Geralt, the one currently taking a seat next to his pack, is gruff and irritable.

“So broody already,” Jaskier sighs. “And the sun has barely risen. There’s a long day ahead for me.”

“I could, uh…” Second Geralt trails off nervously. Jaskier perks up.

“You could what? How are you going to brighten my day, White Wolf?”

The real Geralt feels his chest tighten when Jaskier calls the stranger by his moniker. The nickname that Jaskier had bestowed upon him after their first adventure together. He doesn’t miss the way his doppelgänger’s chest puffs out with pride at the form of address.

“I could carry you,” he offers. Jaskier lights up immediately, practically bouncing out of his bedroll to hug the half-stranger.

“Oh, you lovely thing! Geralt,” the bard shoots the Original a pout, “Can’t we keep him?”

Second Geralt smirks at his counterpart and glances down at the bard, who still has his arms wrapped around the Witcher’s neck. Something hot and angry prickles to life beneath the real Geralt’s scarred skin; he has to suppress the sudden, primal urge to growl and rip Jaskier away from the imposter in their midst. He desires nothing more than to shelter the bard in his own embrace and never let another person touch his Buttercup again.

Oh, he realizes with a start. He glares across the campfire at the copy, still holding Jaskier as comfortably as ever, and narrows his eyes: I think I know what the mage wanted me to figure out.

“Geralt, darling, stop glaring at our guest and help me figure out what to do about breaking our fast.”

“Hmm.”

“I can fetch a rabbit or two,” Second Geralt offers. Real Geralt shoots him another dark glare.

“That would be lovely,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt glowers from his seat beside the fire.

“Go ahead. I’ll get Roach brushed down and watered.”

“Good plan,” Jaskier nods. Second Geralt disappears into the trees and Jaskier bounces over to his Witcher with a wide grin.

“What happened? I thought you were just turning in a trophy and getting paid.”

“I got paid; but I also got cursed, as you can see.”

“I kind of like him,” the bard says. “He’s nice. He offered to carry me.”

“Well he doesn’t have a horse, does he?”

Jaskier nods and goes quiet. Geralt kicks himself. He can’t prove his affection if he’s too busy being a self-flagellating asshole. He watches with anxious golden eyes as the bard cleans up their bedrolls, packs away their supplies, and builds a small cookfire for breakfast.

Jaskier goes about his duties silently, and the silence is unnerving.

Uncomfortable.

The itching beneath Geralt’s skin grows stronger.

---

Second Geralt carries Jaskier piggy-back for a good majority of the distance between their campsites, hefting him easily and letting the bard hug and nuzzle as much as he pleases. Geralt can hear every word of their conversation from his seat atop Roach and he can smell the self-satisfied smugness radiating off his counterpart; he also can’t help catching continuous and ever-stronger whiffs of Jaskier’s bright, tangy happiness and softly floral arousal.

That should be me holding him, Geralt huffs to himself, the jealousy hot and bright and ever-present. This ends tonight.

---

“Wolfie! You’ve brought more food!”

“Hmm,” the Second Geralt nods, dropping three skinned and skewered rabbit carcasses over the cookfire. Jaskier beams and drops onto his bedroll with his notebook. Before Second Geralt can make a move, Real Geralt kneels beside the bard, close enough for their shoulders or arms to brush in passing.

“What are you writing about?”

“Oh! Uh… you, of course. Working on the song about that Griffin hunt.”

“You were very brave getting as close as you did,” Geralt says offhandedly, like it’s not the nicest thing he’s said to Jaskier in weeks. “And I can’t wait to hear how it sounds when you’re finished. I’m sure it’ll be a big hit.”

The bard blushes and stutters, eyes flicking between Second Geralt, the fire, and Real Geralt’s soft but focused gaze. Eventually he goes back to writing, murmuring and singing in little spurts when he feels the need. Both Geralts kneel on their respective bedrolls and meditate. Only the Real Geralt does so with Jaskier close enough to touch, and that settles the itching rage. That settles a lot, actually.

---

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers beneath the light of the stars. The bard turns towards him.

“Mhm?” comes the sleepy reply.

“I love you.”

“Wha-?” Jaskier murmurs, confused. His eyes, bluer than the sea but equally stormy, are bright and wide in the darkness. Geralt bolsters himself and repeats the admission.

“I love you, Jaskier. I’ve wanted to tell you for awhile now, but I wasn’t sure that you’d want to stay with me if you knew. Lately though, seeing the way this other Geralt has been making you so happy… seeing the way he’s been treating you so well and with such gentleness; you deserve that, Jaskier. You deserve softness and care and compliments. I’ve been too stubborn and selfish to do what you’ve needed and I’m so sorry; you could have so much better, but I love you.”

“Foolish Witcher,” the bard sniffles, scooting himself closer until the two are chest-to-chest. “I love you, too. You must have known?”

“I may have improved senses, but I am foolish and uneducated in uh… matters of the heart.”

“Well luckily for you, I’m a professor,” Jaskier winks. He follows up the wink with a wide yawn and Geralt tucks the bard’s head beneath his chin, wrapping one heavy arm over those slim hips to keep him close. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight… my love.”

Jaskier’s scent spikes with happiness and contentment and within a minute or two, he’s drifted back to sleep. Geralt stays up an hour or so more, simply enjoying the solid weight of Jaskier’s body pressed against him.

---

When they wake in the morning, the secondary Geralt has faded away, not a trace of him to be found.

“So I guess that’s what the mage needed him for, huh?” Jaskier surmises. “Getting you to admit your feelings. You big, broody, handsome thing.”

Geralt blushes as much as he still can and runs his fingers gently through Jaskier’s hair. He cups the back of Jaskier’s neck and slowly leans down to capture his lips for a sweet kiss. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

Dreamily, Jaskier blinks up at him through long black lashes, doe-eyed and content, “Me neither.”

#prompt fill #geraskier #getting together #love confession #geraskier love confessions #geraskier fluff #gerrito!? in MY inbox!?#geraskier fluffiness #smooches #bouncey's smoochfest #curse breaking #true love's kiss #cursed geralt #two geralts for the price of one #two geralts #fluff and smooches #bouncey's endless getting together fics

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softinkshadows · 3 years

Text

running into adultrio for the first time (x female reader) (3/3)

disclaimer: this is a feels fic CHROLLO The melodic sounds of pop rock from the speakers are louder this evening, over the clink of beer bottles and rowdy conversation. Propping your chin with one arm on the pub counter, you scan the sparse crowd - sure enough, business is slow today. Even the cigarette smoke which usually cling obstinately to the walls feels more distant. As expected of the Halich festivities, where most people in Saherta would be home with their families. For a small establishment like yours, in a town just on the eastern outskirts of the Gordeau desert, this means an early closing day. You are itching to get some rest tonight after handling the merrymakers in the past week leading up to the festive season. It is almost 6pm, you note, your eyes wandering across the pub. There is just a table of three regulars, and a man sitting alone in the far right corner near the windows. He looks slightly out of sorts, dressed in a long purple coat, his black hair combed back but slightly tousled. You can’t see his face properly now, but you recall the unusual cross tattoo on his forehead and the way he came in earlier, silent with the tell-tale shuffle of a worn traveler. You were a bit annoyed that he only asked for a glass of water before taking his seat, not budging an inch. Strangely, he seems preoccupied with the decorations on the wall, in particular the large and fading world map placed amongst photographs and notes from customers. “Sweetheart! The tab please!” You hear a familiar yell that jolts you out of your thoughts. You stride over to the table of the three, late middle-aged men who are already slightly tipsy from all the drinks. “Hope you gentlemen enjoyed,” you hum cheerfully, collecting the cash. As you bend forward to clear the bottles, you feel a hand on your lower back moving down to pat your bum cheekily through your skirt. Internally, you roll your eyes. You immediately brandish the dagger sheathed in your belt and stab it right between the fingers of his other hand resting on the table. You move so fast that no one has the time to react, but you sense the man in the purple coat look up and glance your way. “How many fingers do you want to lose this time, Hanz? Shouldn’t you be getting back to Lina now?” you retort teasingly, used to your regular’s drunk antics. The table breaks out into hearty laughter as Hanz turns sheepish, and they shuffle out of the pub to return to their families for the night. You gather up the empty bottles and bring them to the counter, before turning down the music. Now it is just you, the yellow glow of evening light slanting through the dusty windows, and the strange traveler in the corner. “Hey,” you say as you walk over, wiping your hands on your shirt, “I’m closing up. You don’t need to pay for the water, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” You notice the slightest shift in his eyes to the sheathed dagger around your waist. Then, he looks up and you meet his gaze for the first time. He is extremely good-looking for a traveler, and the light scuff marks around his cheek somehow accentuate his attractiveness. His dark grey eyes are undeniably beautiful, but something about their intensity catches you off guard. His eyes are alluring, almost calculative, but they harbour a flicker of vacant sadness. It’s the latter that stirs something in you, and against your better judgement, you ask, “Do you... need help with anything?” “I am just travelling through the area, but I am looking for a place to stay the night,” he explains pleasantly, smiling slightly. His tone is friendly and warm, you’d dare say even charismatic, but your gut tells you that something is off. You spend a few seconds wondering about sending this dangerous-looking man out into town, rapping on the doors of houses filled with elderly and young children for the holidays... Here, it was just you. You could probably handle him. And it’s been many years since you had company on an occasion like this. You sigh deeply. “If you don’t mind sleeping on a couch, you can stay at my place. It’s just upstairs. Every other home will be packed today.” ---- “Here you go. There’s nothing much,” you say as your swing open the door to your apartment. Thankfully you didn’t make much of a mess, save for some books left open on the sofa. The deepening orange glow of the sunset filters through the glass doors to the balcony, and your apartment appears cosy. The simple furnishings, the small table near the open kitchen, and the few cutlery by the sink only serve as an indicator that you live alone, and coming home to this sight every day always tugs at your heart slightly. You hear the click of the door closing shut behind you, and you wonder why the man hasn’t as much as said a word. You walk to the kitchen counter, intending on offering him a drink, when you register a sudden flash of movement. You feel the dagger in your belt being pulled out swiftly, so quick that the hair on your neck stands on end, so quick that you don’t even have the time to feel shocked, as it is immediately followed by the telling rush of air as the blade swings down above your hea- your instincts kick in, and you turn around rapidly, missing the blade by a few inches, ducking fast before pinning the man to the kitchen table with his arm twisted behind his back. All is silent except for the clattering of the dagger to the floor. “Listen, you piece of shit,” you growl fiercely. “I didn’t bring you up here so you could kill me. Here, you’re my guest, and I am your host. So you better start treating me like one.” You’re not sure why you’re hesitant to finish him off, but you release him. He turns to face you, rubbing his wrists, and in his dark eyes you notice a glint of intrigue. Somehow, he looks impressed. “I apologize for my rudeness,” he says with an amused chuckle, his previous innocent demeanour falling away. From this short interaction you can tell he is incredibly powerful, but you are not going to let it faze you. You pick up the dagger and place it back in your belt, giving him a glare. “The least you can do now is help me with dinner. You haven’t had anything to eat didn’t you?” The man looks at you stunned for a brief second, a puzzled look crossing his face, before he relaxes. “Alright,” he relents, removing his coat and draping it over a chair. You find yourself trying to stifle a laugh as you pan fry some meat, watching the man clumsily washing vegetables at the kitchen sink, his long fingers peeling and prodding the lettuce leaves without much experience. He doesn’t speak much, you realize, but you notice his eyes wander to the meat cleaver on the counter. “Don’t even think about it,” you snap, and you see a smile tug the corner of his lips. Later, you have dinner outside on the balcony, overlooking the glimmering lighted windows of other homes in the town. Beyond it the large rolling sandy hills of the desert. On most days you’d feel a crushing sadness being on this balcony as the past creeps back upon you. But tonight, it feels bearable. Your look to your side at the man eating in silence, looking out to the view occasionally, his eyes glazed with pensiveness and slight discomfort. He catches you looking at him. “The food is not to your liking?” you asked, preparing to be offended. “No, it’s just... this is new to me,” he replies. “What is? Eating?” you snort derisively. “Being taken care of,” he replies so softly you think you must have misheard. Your cheeks feel warm, and you grumble in your own awkwardness as you collect the plates and head back inside. “Earlier on, why did you let me stay?” he asks, following you. You let the water from the tap run over your fingers absentmindedly before falling to rinse the dishes below. “Even after I tried to kill you? Aren’t you afraid not knowing what I could do?” You hear his voice coming closer, now a shade darker. “Who knows...” You turn off the tap, sighing, then turning around. “What more can you possibly d-” He grips your wrists firmly and pushes you against the counter, his knees between your legs pushing them slightly apart, making you lean back to maintain your balance. His face presses close to you, lips almost touching. The suddenness of intimacy sends a shiver up your spine, and for a while, you’re speechless and confused, searching his gaze for answers. “I could take you, like this, right now,” he murmurs, his warmth breath fanning your face, and for a moment you feel your desperate loneliness rush into your chest, lightheaded and heavy with want. You could kiss him now and not care what happens later. You could let him ravish you without a thought, graze your body with his lips and hands in places you’ve long craved for...Then you notice his eyes, lidded, sultry, but beneath it a pained undercurrent of emptiness. The rippling desire in you begins to fade, and you understand. “I’m a killer and a thief. Yet you still help me, and you don’t even know my name.” He whispers, his hands not letting go of yours. “You never asked for mine,” you reply, looking straight into his eyes. You both stay like this for a while, in silence, though it feels like he’s on the brink of saying something more. Then, he pulls away. For the rest of the night, you and him barely talk. He spends some time checking his phone, reading the books you left on the sofa, while you clean the dishes, shower and make some preparations for the pub tomorrow. Every now and then he gets up to help you wiping the dishes, or carry the laundry to the balcony. When it is time for bed, you watch as he removes his shirt swiftly, before lying down on the sofa. “Goodnight,” you say softly, turning into your bedroom. “Goodnight,” he replies, not looking back. The events of the day and the past week catch up to you, and exhausted, you fall asleep almost instantly. You don’t notice when he comes into your room in the early hours of the morning. It is still dark, and his footsteps are quiet so as not to wake you up. You don’t notice as he bends over at your sleeping figure, gazing with fondness. “It’s Chrollo,” he whispers. He leans in closer, and cups his hand around your face. You shift and mumble a little in your sleep. He smiles to himself before placing a kiss on your forehead. He knows you aren’t listening, but says it anyway. “Wait for me.” Then he pulls on his coat and heads out the door, leaving soundlessly into the cold, dark morning as the first slivers of light begin to break across the sky.

#adultrio #adultrio x reader #hisoka morow #illumi zoldyck #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hisoka morow x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh

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football-rambles · 3 years

Text

3am - Jack Grealish

“I couldn’t give a damn about you!”

Was one of the last things he said in the heat of the moment, he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. But that was the last thing she heard before she left, broken. He gave up ringing her after several days of rejecting the call and when he did get through the voice mails left unheard.

The media was all over it and it was more intense than before, hell he didn’t get this much attention throughout his transfer. It wasn’t until he attended a magazine interview on what he thought was about his move to City, but the questions came in thick and fast.

“Didn’t Y/N want to come to Manchester?”

“I heard that she has a new man in her life.” Another person asked, he faked a smile as if the questions didn’t affect him.

“I’m here to talk about City…I rather not go into my personal life.” He politely speaks.

He’d be lying if the questions didn’t hurt, but he didn’t want to talk about you and right now he couldn’t care less if the rumours were true or not, he’d hope that the rumours weren’t true after a month of being apart. Hell, yes he been around other women but never anything sinister.

He was happy to let you go, if you didn’t want to hear him out, he accepted it and that was when he stopped calling you, telling himself if you really loved him, you’d pick up the phone even if you shouted abuse down the phone.

Jack laid in bed one night at the hotel trying not to think about you at all, he was trying focus his mind on the game, he had Phil in the bed next to him on the phone to his son and girlfriend trying to block it out, but sometimes listening to the conversation. He was happy to be alone, he could go out with the lads whenever he wanted, without thinking about anyone and that was okay.

But that was yesterday…

He was now driving, speeding at times (lmao) in fact, down the motorway back to Birmingham, the roads were quiet, it wasn’t until he looked at the dash to see it was 02:30 in the morning. He doubled check the time, realising it was a stupid idea knowing driving to your sister’s apartment after hearing you moved in with her after the argument, you’d probably be asleep, and your sister would probably murder him.

The words he said few weeks ago, hell he didn’t mean it, and if he did, he was most certain he would be out with the lads right now after the game not driving to another city.

I sat in the car outside the apartment building, thankfully a bunch of girls were just walking into the apartment complex, waiting till the coast was clear before he got out and ran to catch the door before it closed.

He scanned the letter boxes for your sister’s name to know which door he should be knocking on. He looked up the stairwell after hearing a door shut, unsure it was the girls that had arrived moments earlier. He hid out of side under the stairwell until the coast was clear not wanting to be recognised.

It was a few minutes before he decided to run up a few floors as he tried to ring the phone. The phone rang out, you hadn’t changed your number thankfully, it kept ringing and ringing as he prayed that you picked up, desperate to hear your voice.

‘Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message and I get back to you ASAP’

He hung up before the tone, hearing your voicemail knowing that you didn’t block my number and it was still your number. He rang the number again, wanting to leave a voicemail but after two rings it was cut off.

Jack sighed and looked at the apartment door, before knocking. He wondered if you were home, he’d probably knew you would have been asleep, so he was preparing himself for you to answer the door annoyed that he’d woke you up.

No answer, he knocked on the door again to see if you would answer this time. I didn’t see any lights on the window above the door.

A door opened, an elderly gentleman stood there in his slippers and dressing gown. “I think they’re out mate.” The old man says, half asleep, knowing he would have woken him up from knocking. “right, yeah. Sorry” Jack apologised.

The bloke nodded and went back into the flat as Jack looked back at the door before he decided to sit on the stairs by your door. Hoping that you would come home. He just needed to see you.

It felt like hours passed, Jack heard a door open and sound of hushed voices and heels coming closer. Jack peered over the stairs to see who it could be.

“Jack” You whispered, as she walked up the stairs towards him.

“Hey Y/N” He gave a small smile, standing up and looked up to the man who was walking behind you, Jack heart sunk a little.

“Thanks for walking me home.” Y/N turned to the figure stood next to her. “No problem. I told Y/S/N that I would.” The bloke smiled and looked up and down at Jack “Will you be, okay?”

“She’ll be fine” Jack answered bitterly towards the bloke and Y/N looked at Jack and back and nodded “Yeah, go back to Y/S/N.” She speaks and gives him a small hug. Jack felt a little better working out that it was Y/S boyfriend.

He walked down the stairs; Jack waited until he left the building before, he even thought of saying anything.

“what are you doing here Jack? How did you even get in here?” You asked as you unlocked the door.

“I snuck in” He replied, a smile crept on his face but soon faded when he saw you sigh as you opened the flat door and walked in, Jack followed behind standing by the door.

“You didn’t ask my question, why are you here?” You put your bag down and took your heels off as you finally looked up to Jack.

“To apologise...the way I acted I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did at all.” He said as he looked down at his feet.

“It’s 3am and you drove down all this way just to tell me this?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest.

“After days of trying to convince myself that I would get over you, I couldn’t take much more.” Jack spoke.

You looked at him, he didn’t look right at all, it was like the Jack you loved wasn’t there. “What you said really hurt. I get that you were stressed from euros, the transfer but what you said hurt.” You sighed, looking up at him.

“I know and I was stupid, but these last few weeks have been crap without you. I know that what I said was hurtful and I really didn’t mean the way it came out. I just…I need you to know that I love you and no matter how hard I tried to forget about you I couldn’t, and it was eating me inside.” Jack spoke.

You stared at him for a moment and your face softened. “I love you too, and these past few weeks haven’t been great for me either. But if I am to forgive you, I need you to communicate with me and not scream in my face.” You spoke.

Jack nodded “I promise.” He spoke, you looked at him for a few moments and walked into your bedroom before walking out with pillows and blanket.

“We can talk more tomorrow… its 3:30 in the morning,” You handed them over to him which he accepts and nodded.

“Make yourself comfortable, I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight.” She smiled before heading to her room.

Jack made himself comfortable on the sofa, he texted Phil and a few of the lads let them know where he was when you walked out of your bedroom in a t-shirt and shorts.

“There’s where that shirt is.” Jack mumbled at you as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Budge over.” You said as you climbed in next to him.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven.” He asked, as he wraps his arm around you as you mumbled, as you snuggled into him. He chuckled and kissed your temple content that you were back where you belonged.

“Please, talk to me…if we give this another shot. Tell me. Because I love you” I say, in front of you taking your hand. I see a small smile creeping on your face. “I love you too…how can I not. You sat by door at 3 am in the morning”

I grinned as we sat and talked for the duration of the night, to the next thing we knew we both fell asleep on the sofa.

#jack grealish #football imagines #football imagine #football one shot #football oneshots

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rotzaprachim · 4 years

Note

May I humbly submit for the prompt: That was the first time Joe drew Nicky’s face, but the second time was much more interesting.

there are fics i am obsessive about historical accuracy on and then there is the 20k anachronistic comedy universe and i think it’s pretty obvious which one this falls into. hope you enjoy <3

That was the first time Joe drew Nicky’s face- fast-fading evening light and the first flickers of a campfire, and the shadows against the lines of his nose and cheekbones stretching and lengthing even in the fast movement of Yusuf’s charcoal against the back of a map, the sudden twitching in his fingers, feeling that he had to do this, here, but this man on paper, know his face by the lines of it the same way he had known all that were dear to him. Something stabbing in his heart that he both did and did not know the name of, new and hard edged, but washed in an easy and growing affection- that he could admit to. That was the first time he drew Nicolo’s fact, and Nicolo looked at the sketch for a long, long time before he rolled it and put it in the saddle bag.

“So that is how I look,” he said simply. “In your eyes.” A conditional. Yusuf didn’t question him further.

THe secone time was far more interesting.

Wanted. FILTHY FRANK- VENETIAN, Yusuf scribbles, purposefully making a few spelling errors for authenticity sake. A LARGE NUMBER OF DIRHAMS FOR THE MAN, DEAD OR ALIVE.

Nicolo is critical of the work.

“I think I should look more evil. What is the crime i am to be convicted of?”

“Cabbage theft.”

“And the constabulary will bring me in for that?”

“It was a lot of cabbages.”

Yusuf gives the drawing some x-d out eyes and a more murderous expression. It’s hard making Nicolo look like this. Nicolo will never look like this, but, well- the portrait artists doing WANTED signs usually don’t have too much formal education.

“I like this.”

Yusuf puts on the stolen city watch uniform and tacks it in the heard of the souq the next morning with all the other WANTED posters, where, the next morning, said FILTHY FRANK - VENETIAN will wander into the heart of city, and find himself arrested.

“You’re sure about this? About how to do it?”

Nicolo nods.

“Get arrested, break out, kill mininum of guards- preferably, none at all. Second floor is women’s holdings, and that’s where there’s a woman who’s been accused by her husband of a crime she didn’t commit. Break her out and take her back to her sister’s house.”

“Good.” Yusuf nodds. This is simple. This is fine. This is what they DO, or are good at doing, at least, or, more like, TRYING to be good at doing. Helping people out. Being swords for justice. Doing better. They’ve got one particularly unusual talent apiece for not dying, and they better be good at it. They haven’t even died the last couple projects. He’s kind of forgotten what it felt like, and worse- what if felt like to watch Nico die, which isn’t something he should worry about, really, because he kind of has a grudging respect for the bastard, and wants him to be happy, or at least not dead, even though he still hates him a lot, and that feeling sure is mutual. “I’ll be waiting outside the prison with the horses.”

These are some talents that the scrabbling street kid will always be better at than the merchant’s son: climbing walls, breaking out of places, and looking over his shoulder. Just like there are the things that Yusuf is consistently better at, like dealing with people, bartering, dealing with people, arguing out of scrapes, dealing with people, fine calligraphy in three traditions, and also, dealing with poeple. It’s good. They’re very smart and are working out a way to Deal With Each other by a means effective for the good of all.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Yusuf suddenly blurts out. “What if the capture you for real and you can’t get out alive and something happens to you?”

“Mhmm.” Nico says. He’s focused on toasting some bread over the fire, very pointedly not looking at him. “We’ve done this before. Baghdad. Basra.”

“You got stabbed in Basra, and the Lepeord disaster in Baghdad-”

“Also we’ve got better at this since The Leapord Disaster. Dealt with the corrupt cistern owner and neither of us even died once.” Nico passes him some bread and white cheese and olives, the bread, of course, perfectly toasted, which is annoying, because he still toasts the bread perfectly even when they’re fighting, which is even more irritating somehow. “If I die, I’ll come back for you. I promise I won’t leave you alone.”

Something stabs inside Yusuf’s heart. Oh, there’s a name for it, but he won’t be thinking about it now.

“Just-” he lets it hang in the heir. “I can’t stop you from being a martyr.” I can’t, because I’d so the same in your situation. I would and I have and I will, and do it all in good faith, because that’s the life we’ve been given. But it doesn’t stop it from hurting, every fucking time.

Nico looks at him suddenly. All deep eyes. “No. You can’t. And I can’t stop you from walking in a court of snakes and backstabber and poisoners because you think you might be able to do some good somewhere, and we’ve had enough deaths to know that we’ll come back again. But God is gracious. It is not yet your time or mind.” He reaches out to unbuckle the saddle bags and pull out an extra blanket. “It’s going to be cold tonight and your shivering teeth are very distracting to my sleep.”

There’s only a few feet of space between them that night. Nico sleeps with a knife under his head, which started out as some kind of threat but now feels more ritualistic as he noticably twirls it between his fingers in the night, letting the the firelight glint off. Now there’s some showmanship, a joke. A promise, against what may lie in the night.

“Goodnight, my hated enemy. I will not let anyone kill you before I get the chance.”

“If that’s your idea of a joke, your humour is more awful than your swordsmanship. My most abhorred foe, i will be angry if you do not survive the night so as to destroy swordsmanship in the morning.

The night is large and the silence is loud.

“Yusuf,” Nico says suddenly. “I will always come back to you. And what’s the worst they can do to me? Kill me?”

#the old guard #khaysanova #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #my writings #prompt fills #i hope everyone enjoys!

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lazychickensoup · 3 years

Text

𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠

𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝐾. 𝑋 𝐺𝑁! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐴/𝑛: 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑙. 𝐼𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦. 𝑆𝑜 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛. 𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑚𝑒 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑- 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦~

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡(?)

Clicking away at the keyboard on my laptop, I sat with heavy eyelids and my third cup of coffee. My deadline was tomorrow for my presentation for a book I was writing and its details and aspects. I had been so focused on my work I didn’t hear my boyfriend come in till I felt a pair of arms lazily sling around my neck. I jumped at the sudden touch and kept typing. There were so many things going on in my life right now that I had been distant the last few weeks, but to be honest I just hadn’t felt like applying any effort into our relationship. My anxiety had gotten the best of me keeping me isolated, neglecting everything. I hadn’t even started on this presentation till about 4 days ago. No motivation, isolation, being tired all the time. I hope I’m not slipping into old habits.

“Y/n come to lay with me for a while, please. You have been glued to that laptop for the past 3 weeks. I miss you.” the silver-haired male spoke into my neck planting small kisses on my flesh. I turn to him to give him a proper greeting. He takes this opportunity to pick me up and bring me to the couch.

“Suga, I can’t my deadline is tomorrow and I’m only halfway done.” He places me down gently but I just stand back up and walk to my desk. I agitated sigh escapes from him. I feel bad for not spending any time with him, but this is a huge opportunity. I’m so close to working on my first official book. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been procrastinating so long.’

“Only halfway done? What have you been doing for the past 3 weeks then? Just staring at the screen? We haven’t seen each other in forever. We are always going to bed at separate times, we haven’t had a date in weeks, hell most of the time I have to come home and just watch tv trying to drown out the sounds of the keyboard clicks Y/n.” He sounded harsher now. ‘God please don’t argue right now. I don’t mean to. I’m sorry Suga, please.’ this is all I could think right now. Sadly, I have trouble saying what I think. I don’t want to hurt him. Maybe he deserves better.

“I’m sorry Suga. I’m almost done, please. Just a couple more hours and I’m all yours. I swear I’m trying to get it finished I miss you too.” I try walking back over to him but he backs away. I stop in my tracks. ‘Fuck. I fucked this up again. Why can’t you just take a couple of minutes off? No this has to be done. But does it?’

“No, Y/n I get this is a big deal for you and I am always going to support it 100% but it sounds like you haven’t done shit. What have you been doing?” he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t know. I’ve just had trouble thinking of stuff to write. Just some writer’s block that’s all. I’m sorry.” I talk small pushing on the beds of my fingers a habit I do when I’m anxious or worried.

“Well finish your work. I’m going to bed. I’m not waiting for you tonight.” with that he leaves the room, no “goodnight babe’ or anything. ‘Dammit, you did this again. Finish your work. You deserve this.’ I exhale tears forming in my eyes making it hard to see what I’m typing on the screen. I let out silent sniffles for the next two hours deleting and retyping the same things over and over again. ‘Why can’t you just tell him what’s wrong? Maybe, he would understand then. He was the one who helped you through this before. Yeah...but what if he gets tired of doing this, then he’ll leave like everyone else did. Don’t dump this on him. Deal with it yourself. You are fine. You are just lazy. Work.’ sobs escape me now, my hands trembling unable to place another word on the digital page. I walk over to the couch and bring my knees up to my chest silently crying to not wake up Suga. My breathing becomes fast and ragged. ‘Shit I can’t breathe. A panic attack right now? God, I’m so weak.’ I do my best to keep quiet and fight this off, but my efforts fail. I hear the creak of the hardwood floor and footsteps become closer. ‘Shit, don’t let him see you like this. Don’t project this on him.’ I wipe my tear quickly and dash back to my seat just in time for him to come into the room.

“Y/n? I heard you crying. Are you okay?” his voice was still low from sleeping. It sent chills down my spine.

“Uh- Yeah just my story is a little sad is all. Sorry for waking you.” my voice breaks and my breathing is still unsteady but I am able to hide it. Obviously, that’s not enough to convince him so he sits on the floor next to my chair and leans over onto my lap.

“I know that’s, not the truth you were telling me the other day how your story was about some fantasy feminist fighter. I doubt there is anything thing in there that is making you cry that hard that I can hear you from the bedroom.” he turns my chair so that I face him but I dont turn my head. He tilts his head at me reaching for my face. “Hey, love. Is something wrong? I’m sorry for getting so upset earlier I just miss you. I shouldn’t have-”

“No.” I interrupt.

“No?”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I’m the one who has been so distant. I’m sorry. You can go back to bed I’ll be there in a bit.” I say the best I can to make a clear sentence. Holding my breath to keep him from noticing my panic attack that has only gotten worse. ‘Please leave. Don’t see me like this.’ He wipes the fresh tears that roll down my cheeks. I left out a staggered breath and that’s when it clicked in him.

“Y/n I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s going on. You are obviously not fine. Come on let’s sit on the couch.” He takes my hand and I don’t fight back. We sit down side by side, I keep my eyes on the floor and my fist bunched up to where my nails dug into my skin. His hand travels up and down my back slowly to help calm me. “You don’t have to talk right now. Just breathe. I’m right here okay?” his other hand takes one of mine. The removal of my nails stung my skin but I try to ignore it. I do the breathing exercises I was taught. After a while, I got my breathing back to normal and was able to relax. I lay on Suga’s chest staring up at the ceiling and staying quiet. “Okay, we got your breathing under control. Now tell me what’s going on,” he spoke quietly into my hair planting kisses on my head while holding my hand and squeezing them slightly. I let out a shaky sigh. ‘He wants to know. He wants to help. Just tell him. It’ll scare him away.’

“I don’t know what’s wrong...I’m just tired?” I curled up to him more laying on my side now. I could hear his heartbeat. It was claiming, those four coffees were beginning to wear off.

“Just tired huh. Y/n you know you can talk to me. You’re not gonna push me away. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I laugh at his response. “Is it like before? When we first got together?” my smile faded and I nod slowly against his chest. “Baby, you’re overworking yourself and overthinking stuff. I promise you will feel better if you just let it out. Here I even pinky promise that I’m not going to be upset or be scared away by your vent okay?” he holds out his pinky waiting for mine to interlock with it. It was a childish thing that we did when we meant something serious, It always makes me feel better because I know he means what he is saying. I wrap my pinky around him and he moves his fingers to intertwine with the rest of mine.

“Okay, so the last couple of weeks I’ve just had no motivation to do anything. I know that I’ve also been neglecting things like us. I just...I don’t want to dump everything on you. This book is such a big opportunity and it’s stressing me out but I need to get it done. Now, I’m even more stressed because I couldn’t think of anything till a couple of days ago. I’m also scared. Scared that if I rant to you like this you’ll leave. I don’t want to annoy you with my problems when I know that you also get stresses from volleyball and work. So I’ve just been trying to deal with it myself.” I cry into his chest staining his shirt with my tears, my stomach turns uncomfortably when I get no response after a while. I look up at him to meet his smile. I give him a confused look but he just moves the stray hair out of my face and kisses me.

“See don’t you feel better?” he finally says after an unbearable amount of time. “Even though it’s silly to think that Y/n. I told you it’s not that easy to get rid of me. Especially, when I’m so in love as I am with you, and like before we are gonna get through this. You never have to keep all that bottled up with me. You’re not neglecting my feelings by just telling me yours. We are in a relationship we have to communicate. I know your anxiety can get the best of you sometimes but I’m always gonna be here for you when it does. I love you Y/n. Don’t forget.” he pulls me closer I wrap my arms around him holding him tight.

“What did I do to deserve you,” I whisper to where he couldn’t hear. “I love you too Suga. Thank you. I’ll finish the presentation tomorrow. Can we go to bed?” I sit upon him, he holds on to my thighs and laughs.

“Considering it’s 4 in the morning I think that’s a great idea.” I get off him and he groans at not being able to touch me.

Once we were in bed he held me close to him and snuggled his face into my neck.

“Goodnight, Love.”

“Goodnight Suga.”

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu angst #sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x y/n #suga fic #suga fluff #sugawara x reader

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Galaxy Princess - 2/3

Characters → Y/N & Peter Quill, Mentions of other Marvel characters.

Summary → After the birth of superheroes, several alien attacks and the blip, you were pretty much ready for anything. That was until you met Peter Quill. He burst into your life at lightning speed and nothing could have prepared you for the way he turned your world upside down.

Word Count → 2k.

Warnings → 18+, Smut - oral (male receiving), p in v (unprotected - wrap it before you tap it bro).

Series Taglist → OPEN - send an ask.

Beta → @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Should have posted this at half 7 but everything seemed to go wrong BUT it’s here now… This is for @crushedbyhyperbole - I am so sorry that this is months late to your challenge! [Prompt: To the moon and back - in Part 3]. This is GOTG Vol1&2 Peter Quill set in a post-Endgame world. AND YES MY SCHEDULE WENT COMPLETELY WRONG.

Return to: Series List // Marvel List

Previously: Spare bedding was placed on the sofa and Y/N directed him around the apartment, “The shower is just down the hall. If you can’t sleep, here’s the tv remote and help yourself to food.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Starlord.”

“It’s Peter.” His cheeky smile had faded to something softer.

“Y/N. Goodnight Peter.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He laid down and continued to wave until she shut the bedroom door.

Y/N was too tired to process that she was leaving a stranger on his own, in her home. There was an odd comfort from his determination to get back to his ship and crew; the place he belonged.

After spending the best part of an hour deciding when to leave the bedroom and greet her guest, breakfast the next morning was not as awkward as Y/N had imagined. The moment she sat down at the kitchen table; her apprehension disappeared. It seemed natural to be opposite Peter, eating toast and draining her mug of coffee as he did the same.

“I’ve got some clothes that you can borrow,” She mentioned, trying to sound casual.

“Boyfriend?” His eyebrow quirked, obviously noticing the drop of her eyes, “Ex-boyfriend?”

The air in the room disappeared, sucked out like a vacuum. Y/N was unable to think straight as the image of the owner of the clothes flashed in her mind's eye. Tears began to form, blurring her vision but before they fell she bit down on her bottom lip. Redirecting the emotional pain.

“My um, brother. I’ll be right back,” She whispered and rushed from the room.

She pushed open the door opposite her bedroom, and breathed in the, now faint, scent of hazelnut and him. The feel of the clothes under her fingertips was bittersweet, and Y/N couldn’t help bringing the sleeve of his favourite hoodie to her nose and inhaling deeply.

Approaching footsteps echoed around the almost empty room, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a cotton t-shirt, immediately failing at composing herself in time as Peter entered the room. Kindness lined his features, and she couldn’t look at him any longer than a second.

“I think they should fit, you’re a similar height but he is- was- a bit leaner.” She offered him the items.

Skin ignited at the delicate touch of Peter’s calloused hands that wrapped around her forearm, “Thank you. What was his name?”

“Eli. Elijah,” She whispered, her eyes unmoving from the thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “I don’t like talking about it. Why don’t you try the radio once more and I’ll head to the hardware store to see if I can fix the transmitter.”

Peter nodded, “Believe me, I know family is a tough subject for anyone.” She met his eyes, sincerity and sympathy stared back at her. “But if talking about it would help lighten some of the sadness in your eyes, I’d be happy to listen.”

Y/N nodded and gave him a small smile, appreciating the kindness from the stranger.

The fixed transmitter sat on the windowsill. One of the three lights had finally turned on, it had beeped a few times which was, hopefully, a good sign. After four hours of waiting for something else to happen, Y/N and Peter resigned to watching Stranger Things.

Even though Peter was enthralled with the music and monsters that came from the television, he couldn’t help the way he felt as Y/N shared snippets of her life with him. The way she would talk to him about all the things she loved about science fiction, space and of all the new things on Earth. Y/N’s excitement was infectious, and he didn’t want to part with it.

To slow down and spend time with someone as enigmatic as she was a one-eighty on his usual fast-paced crazy life as a Guardian of the Galaxy. And that’s when he knew that he’d have to stall his departure if possible.

While Y/N was getting ready for bed in the bathroom, Peter grabbed a cell phone from his red jacket and hopped out the window and onto the fire escape, perching on one of the steps. He flipped open the phone and dialled one of the few contacts he had.

“Hey, Bird Boy ‘Merica.” He chirped, glancing through the window to check that she hadn’t left the bathroom. “Can you give Rocket these coordinates? Pick up in five days? Cheers Cap.”

Pocketing the phone, he sat looking up to the sky, watching the stars twinkling in the distance, and for the first time since he was abducted all those years ago, he felt at home. Y/N’s footsteps brought him back to reality; he was leaving but not just yet.

“Whatcha doin’ out there?” She giggled, now in pyjamas and knotting the ties of her robe at her waist.

“Just checking out the sky, Princess.” He grinned at her.

Y/N climbed out the window and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the fire escape. They both greeted Stan on the way, a mischievous look on the older gentleman as he watched the pair laughing as they rushed up the stairs.

Once they reached the top, Y/N dropped his hand and twirled around with her arms open wide, then gestured to the sun lounger. “Welcome to my little piece of heaven.” She smiled proudly, “Take a seat.”

Peter sat back, legs either side of the lounger to allow Y/N to perch in between, “Come up here often?”

“Yeah, every Friday night, at least. It’s how I knew where you crashed,” She pointed to the woodlands in the distance.

“Well, I thank the stars that you were out here. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done.” Peter paused, watching the modesty line her features as she shrugged.

Y/N was different from the other girls he’d met. She had this look of adventure and passion for space, the universe, the unknown. Something that he had only seen in children. He could feel something blossoming; a desire to know more about her, spend more time with her, but he also knew that he’d be leaving and that was not going to put a downer on tonight.

Peter wanted to make the most of the time they had. However long they had. His hands gripped at Y/N’s waist, and he tugged her back, guiding her to lay on his chest. She hesitated at first but after a few seconds, she curled into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. Watching the sunset over the trees.

The cool breeze sent shivers up and down Y/N’s body, she held tighter onto Peter’s waist. Her mind raced with all the possibilities only to be destroyed by her insecurity; maybe this could be my way out? Don’t be silly. He’s just going to leave. You don’t know him; he could be a serial killer.

Peter brushed the strands of hair away from her face, bringing her out of her thoughts. Her body tensed as he tipped her chin upwards. She looked at him in wonder and slight confusion. Peter cupped her cheek, his lips met hers, and she was frozen in place.

After a moment, she melted into him, their lips moulded together seamlessly. Peter deepened the kiss, and earning a gasp from her, it allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth. It silenced her worries and all thoughts of this man being a stranger and being from out of space left her mind. The fact that they were on a rooftop and anyone could glance from the neighbouring apartments slipped away as his tongue danced with hers.

She couldn’t refrain from his touch any longer and adjusted her position; swinging her leg over his and straddled his lap, not breaking the kiss for a second. Peter’s arms snaked around her waist, holding her almost impossibly closer to him.

The dressing gown fanned around them, giving her body access to the delicious friction of his erect cock through his jeans and her pyjama shorts, the material dampening at her core.

She wished she’d changed into the black underwear set that she had bought on a whim a couple of days ago. She was confident in pursuing this with Peter and she was glad her instincts were correct; it was just bad timing.

Peter’s deep moan disconnected their lips and Y/N bit hers as she watched the pleasure take over his features. His hands trailed down to her hips, gripping tightly to the soft gown, and untying the rope and pushing it off her shoulders. His lips met hers once more, she whimpered as his hands lifted her tank top over her head.

He drank in her appearance, his eyes scanning from her face down to her chest. He surged forward, his mouth leaving wet kisses to her jaw, following the path down her neck. Y/N’s hands found their way into his locks, tugging at the ends as he nipped at a sensitive spot on her collarbone.

Peter glanced up at her, an unspoken request for permission. She nodded and Peter obliged, latching around her nipple with his hand palmed at the other breast. Y/N gasped as his teeth scraped at the hardened bud then she tugged at Peter’s cotton top. He huffed as he finished his assault across her chest and pulled off the offensive article. Y/N stood up and shimmied out of the shorts. Peter followed suit with the denim and boxers.

The summer breeze struggled to cool their heated skin as they admired each other’s exposed figures. The moonlight cast shadows over their naked bodies yet highlighted every delicious dip and sensuous curve.

Y/N dropped to her knees in front of him, ignoring the debris that dug into her skin as she levelled herself with his cock. She used her index finger to smear the beaded pre-cum around his head. She curled her hand, gripping his shaft and languidly pumped.

“Fuck, Princess.” He grunted as she twisted her hand up and down his length. “Want your mouth.”

Y/N immediately parted her lips and began licking his tip then took him fully. The tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat caused her to choke slightly but as she regained her composure she looked up at Peter. Flushed cheeks and the darkened glint in his eyes held her gaze turned her into a mess.

Raspy moans and grunts spurred Y/N on; her tongue swirled, and she took him deeper into her throat once more. His hands gripped her shoulders, tugging her away to stand. The passion erupted between them, a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. Peter’s hands slid down her body, grabbed at her thighs to lift and she obliged.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he laid her down on the sun lounger. She was in awe at his strength while he pulled the cushions to soften her head and back before letting her go completely.

Peter pulled the blanket across them both then nuzzled at her neck, nipping at her sensitive spots, behind her ear, the corner of her jaw and along the edge of her collarbone. He rested on his left side, to keep her from toppling off the side and to keep his full weight off her.

Y/N whimpered at the way his cock teased at her entrance with each of the restricted ruts of his hips. His hands snaked down to her core, fingers rubbing at her clit, coating in her slick before two entered her pussy.

Peter’s mouth continued the assault on her neck, leaving darkening marks while Y/N’s soft moans rang through the night. It coaxed the fire burning in her belly; the pleasure shivered to the tips of her fingers and the curl of her toes.

Y/N arched her back, her nipples grazing against the hard planes of his chest. Her head tipped back into the cushions; he was filling every part of her existence with ecstasy. The stars above them blurred as he added another finger; widening her ready to take his dick.

Peter entered her slowly; both adjusting to this new level of intimacy as his lips connected with hers and their tongues joined the fray. Y/N’s core twisted in desire and impatience as she ground her hips to encourage his movement.

Peter pushed and pulled against her body, his pelvis hitting her deliciously with each thrust. Her walls clenched around him as he continued to grind and dip and tug at her. Y/N surrendered her body to him, letting him take control, and relished in every second as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

Her hands gripped tightly to his shoulders, nails digging into his tanned skin as his thrusts slowed but hardened. Their bodies moulded together as one, the feeling of weightlessness reached every corner of their existence as they reached their climax.

Peter pulled Y/N to lie across him, her head tucked into his neck. Their bodies relaxing into the cushions, their skin glistening with beaded sweat and the moonlight shining delicately across them both.

Y/N felt the gravitational pull back to reality; he was going to leave. It was only a matter of time.

To Be Continued...

Everything Tag List; @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7

Marvel Tag List; @natasha-danvers / @musesforart

#Peter Quill x Reader #Peter Quill Fic #Peter Quill Smut #Starlord Fic #Starlord x Reader #Starlord Smut #Guardians of the Galaxy #GOTG

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wrctings · 4 years

Text

Bill Guarnere x fem!reader | Happy Halloween

happy october 31st everyone! for this imagine, i’m mixing two of my favourite things, halloween and this angry (actually soft inside) italian <3 🎃 (this is based on the character portrayed by frank john hughes, all my respect goes to the real bill guarnere and his family, which i by no means mean to disrespect). I wrote this while listening to The Yodeling Ghost by Bring Crosby and The Andrews Sisters, so that could be a nice song to read this to ❣️

October 31st, 1945

You stopped in the kitchen doorway to a sight that coated your heart with a warmth that even the thickest of blankets couldn’t have generated. You almost didn’t want to enter the room anymore, a smile instantly lightening your features as you allowed your gaze to longer linger on the scene you had just walked in on, coming to a halt as though unwilling to shatter the moment you had just caught.

“Daddy, when are we going to go?” A little girl, no older than ten, with bright eyes fixed upon her dad’s frame, was gently tugging at the man’s shirt.

“Soon, Y/child’s/n, soon. I swear you’re even more impatient that I am, aren’t you?” Bill shook his head but a twinkle of fondness could also easily be discerned in the man’s gaze, which briefly landed upon his daughter’s face before his attention went back to the reason why the child’s patience was wearing out. Indeed, on the table before Bill sat an emptied pumpkin — its innards and light-coloured, almond-like seeds having been set aside in a nearby bowl —, and your husband was making an effort to craftily dig into it with a knife.

“Then we’ll go?” Y/child’s/n asked hopefully, hauling herself on tiptoe to better observe Bill’s endeavour.

“Then we’ll go,” he promised, cutting through the hardened surface of the fruit with quite a bit of struggle to form of a serrated mouth. “I swear you’re even more impatient than me, aren’t you?” he gave her a quick smile as he continued his task. Once he was done with carving such an outline, he could then push the cut-out surface out of the way, leaving a whole in the shape of a grin. ‘There you go,” Bill put the knife down, rubbing his hands together as he took a final look at his creation, then seized the pumpkin and showed it to your daughter. “What do you think?”

“It’s not a very scary pumpkin...,” the little girl commented with a chuckle, though her face showed a pleased expression.

“Not a very scary pumpkin? Let me tell you, I’d be really scared if I came across a pumpkin like that,” Bill retorted, giving the pumpkin a fake suspicious look that made your daughter laugh, and you couldn’t help but join in. This drew your husband’s attention, whom gave you a joyful glance as soon as he noticed your presence in the doorway. “See,” he continued, addressing the girl, “I wouldn’t trust it too much. But thanks to it, I have a feeling somebody’s gonna get some candy tonight.”

“I have the same feeling,” you said fondly, stepping inside the room to join your daughter and husband. Bill got up, leaning on his prosthesis to regain his balance, and gave you an affectionate smile before he washed pumpkin flesh off his hands.

“Mommy, are you going to go treat-or-treating with me and daddy?” Y/child’s/name wrapped her small hands around your leg as she shifted her head backwards to give you an inquisitive look.

“Do you want me to?” you replied tenderly, hearing Bill’s footsteps come closer behind your back, meaning that it would soon be time to grant your daughter’s wish.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully. “Please come with us!"

“Then count me in,” you stroke your daughter’s back, nodding decidedly. “But before that, you need to put on your costume. Come on, I’ll help you out. I’m sure that daddy will manage not to get too scared of Mr Pumpkin even if we leave him alone with him for a bit,” you gave Bill a playful, loving smile.

“I’ll be on the lookout for anything suspicious from Mr Pumpkin,” Bill answered gravely, and the two of you exchanged a knowing and affectionate glance as you were leaving the kitchen in your daughter’s wake.

You were standing at the bottom of the staircase a quarter of an hour later, readjusting Y/child’s/n’s halloweeny cape as the little girl expectantly hopped up and down, struggling to remain immobile.

“Daddy! Look!” As soon as Bill appeared in the doorframe, she spun on her heels to face him, a proud beam shimmering upon her lips. “I’m a vampire!”

“Wow,” holding the pumpkin he had carved earlier, your husband came closer to take a thorough look at the girl’s new disguise. “You’re a terrifying little vampire! Ain’t nobody stands a chance against you.”

“Now I can scare Mr Pumpkin if he tries to scare you,” Y/child’s/n announced confidently, eyeing the jack-o’-lantern as if she was giving it a warning. Such a bravely sweet statement made Bill’s and yours parent’s hearts melt and your husband picked her up, momentarily putting the pumpkin down so he could plant a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he told her with a smile not devoid of emotion as you rubbed his shoulder.

The three of you then put their shoes on, Bill once again getting hold of the jack-o’-lantern, and you took off for the Halloween-night trick-or-treating which your daughter had been awaiting so impatiently. The sun had already almost set, only remnants of fading warm light rippling upon the ginger and brown leaves that rustled on the trees all around, but most of the houses’ porches were alit with lanterns or lights, some of them even placed inside of carved pumpkins used as decorations. You were not the only ones to have gone out on that evening, meeting some your neighbours whom you greeted before your daughter energetically shot the decisive question: trick or treat? Even without approaching the houses, your pumpkin already filled with a few pieces of candy, which your daughter counted before urging you to go up to the first front door. Her father lifted her up so she could ring the doorbell by herself, and you waited for your neighbours to show up, Bill carrying your pumpkin-container while you were in charge of other sweets that you could give away for other trick-or-treaters.

“Good evening,” you greeted the woman who opened the door, a sheepish smile slipping onto your lips as your daughter joyfully exclaimed: trick or treat, even forgetting to say hello first.

“Well, look at you,” the woman laughed kindly, visibly finding the child’s enthusiasm endearing. “Good evening. I’ll see what I can do for you.” She reappeared a few moments later, carrying a piece of chocolate candy that she put into the pumpkin that Y/child’s/n insisted on taking from Bill. “There you go.”

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” your daughter replied, this time not giving politeness a miss, which got her another smile from the woman.

“Thank you, we’re sorry for the trouble,” Bill apologised, though giving your daughter a fond glance as he did so.

“It’s nothing, I’m glad I won’t be tricked by this very frightening vampire,” the woman shook her head breezily, but your daughter’s face shone with pride at the fact that your neighbour had got her costume right, and found her scary.

After warmly wishing the woman a good evening, you set toward your next destination. To make your daughter content, you decided to try your luck at all the houses bordering your street, and thankfully got a positive response from every one of their inhabitants — to give away candy was one of Halloween night’s customs, so everybody played along in a joyous atmosphere, especially since your daughter managed to remain polite in spite of her being giddy with excitement. You and Bill couldn’t have been prouder, congratulating the girl on her behaviour and promising her that she would get to taste some of the candy you had collected when you would come home.

Your little expedition came to an end around an hour later, tiredness starting to weigh upon Y/child’s/n as you left the front yard of the last house you had visited. Her eyelids fluttering shut while you were heading back home, Bill ended up picking her up, handing you the jack-o’-lantern, and cradling her in his arms so she could rest peacefully. Although she awoke when your husband and you took her up the stairs leading to her room, then helping your daughter undress and get into bed, her misty state of mind made the drowsy little girl forget all about candy and she quickly cuddled up to her stuffed animal, letting you tuck her in and tenderly kiss her goodnight. You softly closed the door, your daughter already fast asleep, and found yourself alone with Bill.

The two of you quietly went back downstairs, careful not to make any loud noises lest you disturbed Y/child’s/n’s slumber, and in a few minutes you were inside the living room, the door shut behind you. Warmth was flooding the room, the fireplace still ablaze with remnants of fluttering flames and the wood inside crackling cosily, which made an appeased sigh part your lips. You were home.

“Y/child’s/nickname fell asleep quickly tonight,” Bill commented, taking your hand in his. “That was a really good Halloween celebration.”

“But it’s not over yet,” you had had an idea, a smile now spreading upon your face as you let go of your husband’s hand. You came up to the radio stationed near the fireplace, turning it on, and after a few seconds of uncertain hissing and murmuring from the frequency modulation, music spilled from the machine, its jazzy notes instantly swirling in the air and engulfing you and Bill in their rhythm, smooth and ample like velvet to the ears. Matching the date, you realised that it was Halloween-themed after catching some of the lyrics.

“There,” you grinned, turning back around to meet Bill’s inquisitive gaze. Moving along to the song, you came back to him, putting your arms over the man’s shoulders. “Now, I’ve got you all for myself,” you murmured with longing playfulness, your mouth still curved.

“I’m all yours, darling,” your husband’s dark eyes anchored in yours, he slid his arms around your back, his body drifting along the shifting of yours. He had never told you out loud, but dancing with you had always felt incredibly special to him; in spite of losing his leg, it made him feel whole, like he could do anything. Like he was still himself — and he was. He was incredibly strong, and you would forever be proud of him.

As you danced, Bill kissed you slowly, savouring every contact that you shared, before pulling away, which allowed you to look into his face. Waltzing shadows from the fireplace were grazing his skin, skin which you had left so many breathless kisses on, and the amber of his iris appeared lighter in the dimly-lit living room, reflecting the glistening of embers in the fireplace. You had feared losing him so intensely, back when you went through the war together, and now he was standing there in front of you, so alive. And even though the memories of what happened after you had learnt about Bill’s injury still sometimes cut through you like a blade — sobbing uncontrollably in Cpt. Winters’s foxhole, Cpt. Nixon had even offered you his flask of alcohol as Richard had tried to console you best he could —, at least your pain had been alleviated by the certainty that he had made it. You had come home to him, and he had been there.

But on that merry Halloween evening, nothing could have clouded the sheer and simple happiness of dancing with your husband to a spooky tune. You hands in his, you moved along to the music, your merry state of mind translating into the suavity with which your limbs moved in synch; Bill had even forgotten about his prosthetic, feeling like every move was effortless with you. Though being the night of horror, for the two of you that 31st of October was marked with blissfulness that would have made even the scariest of creatures meek. And perhaps, at that very moment, some ghost was watching you from the corner of the room, daydreaming about a long-lost love that it had suddenly set its mind to find again.

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #BoB #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfiction #writing #my writing

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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When tiger’s appendix goes KABOOM

In this one we go back--way back--to before these two idiots ever boinked, when they were just best friends. Because even when they were just that, Bill still took such sweet, doting care of tiger and never once expected anything in return and I am just so in love with that concept. Good ole gentle, caretaker, GOOD DUDE BILL y’know? we all need one.

Trigger warnings: Let’s all stay safe, kids. There’s some medical stuff in this one. Needles, some surgery. Nothing in too graphic detail but that’s not for me to judge. If you’re really quite terrified of needles, there’s only one part and I can remove it and send you another version if you’d like to read <3

This is all for you, sweet purple heart nani.

***

It took you a second to realize why you had woken up, what had roused you from your deep sleep. But the minute you inhaled—you felt it. A small tug, nothing more than a dull ache, low in your abdomen. You winced, breathing through it—but then just as fast as it had started, it faded away.

You were settling in again, pulling the blankets back up around you when the wave of nausea hit. You groaned, hunching in a little bit, trying to grit your teeth through it. It was probably just a bit too much alcohol—camping trips with friends were always like that, and given that these were Bill’s Swedish friends, liquor a little stronger than you were used to flowed a little faster, a little easier, a little heavier, and you hadn’t held back.

It had only been two days, but it was two days filled with a bit of gluttony and a lot of some kind of Swedish spirit that didn’t seem fit for human consumption. Bill took a camping trip every year in the country side of Sweden with his friends, and this year he had insisted you join in—he knew your love of forests, your love of nature and swimming in lakes, your fondness for sleeping under the stars.

“You’ve never seen anything like it kid,” he promised, “You’ll love it. The nights are cool, the days are warm, the sun never sets. It’s paradise. And we can even visit my family after, when we get back to civilisation.”

“Are there bears?” You asked, skeptically.

“There are no bears,” he lied, but you crossed your arms and glared at him.

“There are some bears,” he admitted, “But I’ll put my tent right next to yours. A few of the guys are real experienced woodsmen. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I don’t have any real camping gear,” you tried. He smiled—you were giving in, and he knew it.

“I have a ton in Sweden,” he said, “We’ll take some of my brothers’ shit.”

You sighed. It did sound fun, but there’s no way you’d let him know that.

“Fine, I guess,” you said, “But if I get eaten by a bear, I’ll be super fucking mad at you.”

He had squeezed you tight then, picked you up and spun you around.

“You’re going to love it kid,” he said with a noisy kiss on your cheek.

And he was right—the countryside of Sweden was beautiful. The sun was permanently shining yet it never seemed too warm, it lacked all of the sticky, debilitating humidity that you were used to, and Bill’s Swedish friends were a good group. All ridiculously tall, all blue eyed, everyone on the trip looked like varying shades of the same person. They were easy going, they loved to laugh, they loved to eat, and they loved to drink. And they certainly loved to make you drink.

You thought you had done alright, and you weren’t dizzy or nauseous when Bill had walked you back to your tent. But now hours later, you felt like someone was stabbing you deep in your gut, at random intervals. When the pain dissipated you felt nothing, no remnants of it, but then it would come back and slam into you. You gasped as another wave hit, groaning when the nausea bubbled in your stomach. Kicking your sleeping bag back, you hunched over as you stumbled out of your tent. Walking a few feet to Bill’s, you scratched at it to warn him of your presence before you unzipped it slowly.

“Tiger,” he said sleepily, raising his head as he blinked up at you, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel so good bud,” you said quietly, “Can I sleep in here?”

He was already unzipping his sleeping bag, pushing it down and giving you room to crawl in.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered as you crawled in. You did it slowly, gingerly, settling on your back and looking up at him as he hovered over you.

“It’s my stomach,” you groaned as another stabbing pain hit, “This is death, for sure.”

“Is it your period?”

“No Bill, it’s death,” you sighed, relaxing a bit as the pain subsided, “It’s intermittent. But when it hits, fucking kill me.”

His gaze swept over you, looking for any obvious signs of something wrong.

“Do you want to take something for it?” He asked. But you shook your head.

“No, it’s fine,” you grumbled, “But maybe…maybe just my heating pad?”

You smiled up at him pleadingly, and he let out a small chuckle. Lying back down, he blew a few puffs of hot air on his hand before he reached down, rucking your shirt up a tad and pressing his hand to your stomach. You sighed in relief, and he curled back up beside you.

“This okay?” He asked, giving your stomach a small pat.

“Yeah bud,” you said, “Thanks.”

“Wake me up if it gets worse,” he laid a soft kiss on your cheek, “Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight big guy.”

And with the heat radiating off him, with the small weight of his hand pushing in to your abdomen, you were finally able to get back to a restful sleep.

But the next morning, the nausea was tenfold. Waking up, it was the first thing you felt the minute your eyes opened—crippling, dizzying nausea. Groaning loudly, you clenched your teeth together as you fought off the urge to vomit.

“Whoa, easy kid,” you heard his raspy, deep voice behind you as he roused from sleep, “Just breathe.”

Groaning again as the wave intensified, you cussed as you balled your fist in the sleeping bag and clenched your eyes shut so tight they watered. You felt him move behind you, try to slip out without jostling you too much.

“Tiger hey, listen to me,” he said as you saw a shadow crouch in front of you, “Just try and take a deep breath.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” you moaned, curling in further on yourself. Your forehead had broken out in a cold sweat, your hair sticking to it as Bill brushed it back to try and get a better look at your face. His brow furrowed in concern when he finally did—you were grey, ashen, a sickly pallor to your skin.

“Just throw up if you have to,” he coaxed, “You’ll feel better.”

“No,” you said stubbornly, but then another wave of nausea hit you when the last one had barely subsided and you whimpered. “Oh fuck.”

“You’re okay,” he soothed, running his thumb along your cheek, “Are you in pain?”

“No pain,” you grunted out, “Just…oh fuck.”

You felt your stomach lurch, and you moved frantically and clumsily to unzip the sleeping bag. He helped you get it open, steadying you as you clambered to your feet and wobbled. Knowing where you were headed, he bolted to the tent and unzipped it as you hobbled out, trying to locate the most private place where your body could violently rid itself of whatever it was trying to get out. Moaning in pain, you stumbled before Bill grabbed your elbow and pulled you a few feet away behind a few trees. With one hand around your arm to hold you up, the other one grabbed on to the back of your sweat-soaked neck and bent you at the waist. You groaned but there was no stopping it anymore and you lurched, emptying the contents of your stomach and narrowly missing his feet. He held you up as you wretched, steadying you until you seemed like you were done. Still hunched over with your hands on your knees, a bottle of water appeared in front of your face.

“Rinse your mouth out,” he said softly, and you did. Swigging a gulp, you swirled it around before you spat it out. Taking the water bottle from you, he handed you a small towel next.

“Wipe,” he said, and you grabbed it from him and pressed it to your face, exhaling deeply with exertion. His hand rubbed your back soothingly, pulling softly on your shoulder as you tried to stand back upright.

“Thanks bud,” you mumbled, embarrassed and exhausted, “That was dramatic.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you saw the concern etched on his face. You reached for the water bottle again, doing another rinse out.

“Yeah,” you took a deep breath, noting the ache in your gut and the nausea has dissipated, “I feel…better. Much better, actually.”

“It was probably something you ate,” he said, “Take it easy today, okay? Nothing too heavy.”

He tucked you under his arm as you walked back to the tents.

“What the hell is in that akvavit anyway?” You grumbled.

“Nothing good kid, I can promise you that,” he chuckled.

He walked you back to the tents to change, before you joined everyone by the campfire a few metres away. The smell of bacon hit your nostrils on the way, and your stomach grumbled as you drooled. When you reached the group, someone handed you a plate and you promptly mounded it with everything you could find—eggs, bacon, sausages blistered by the fire, toast smeared with butter, and you added a few wild strawberries to your plate just for good measure. Sitting down on a tree stump, you settled the dish on your knees—but then a hand swooped in, grabbing the plate and replaced it with a pitiful one containing only one sad piece of dry toast and a few berries.

“Hey!” You cried and reached for your original plate, but Bill just moved out of your reach. Ruffling your hair, he sat down beside you.

“You just hurled your guts out kid,” he said, “Take it slow. Thanks for the plate, though.”

With a smirk he stabbed his fork in, devouring the perfect plate that you had made for yourself. You grumbled, taking a small bite of your toast.

“Are you going to be okay for the hike today?” He asked, “Because we can hang back if you’re not feeling up to it.” You drooled at the slice of bacon he crunched into, looking at it longingly. He took pity on you, picking up a small piece of it and putting it on your plate. You grabbed at it greedily.

“Yeah it’ll be fine,” you said, “I’m already feeling better.”

“Hey,” he rested a hand on your forearm squeezing lightly to grab your attention, “Are you sure you’re okay kid? You were really gray this morning.”

You smiled at him, patting his hand lightly.

“Yeah bud I’m okay,” you murmured, “I really think it was something I ate. But thank you, for your help this morning. I know that was pretty gross.”

He smiled, nodding once in understanding. You reached up and tugged playfully on one of his longer locks of hair, before swiping another piece of bacon from his dish as he scolded you. You shrugged, unapologetic.

And it had gone okay, at first. There was a cool breeze in the air that abated the heat of the sun, the trail wasn’t too difficult, and the group was walking at a slow enough pace that you were able to keep up. But as Bill climbed a rock in front of you, crouching down and extending his hand to help pull you up, when you reached the top you doubled over as a stabbing pain hit low in your stomach.

“Fuck,” you cussed, pressing down into your abdomen. Bill’s hand was on your back in a flash, trying to pull you slowly back upright. You let him, but then another pain hit that crumpled your knees and you kneeled.

“Whoa kid,” he said, and when the group stopped he turned and said something in Swedish to them. With weary gazes, they nodded and turned, continuing the hike.

You cussed again as you pressed a few fingers down into the spot where you felt the pain, and it alleviated it a tad.

“Tiger what’s going on?” He asked, concerned. He brushed the hair back from your forehead as you breathed out a sigh in relief, keeping your fingers pressed in to the spot that hurt. You started to stand, and he grabbed your arms to help you up.

“I don’t know,” you said, “I just got a stabbing pain in my gut. It feels almost like a pulled muscle.”

He placed his hand over yours, pulling your shirt up a bit to see if there was any obvious signs of something wrong. Passing a few fingers gently over your skin, it didn’t seem like anything was amiss—there was no bump, no heat radiating from the area, nothing.

“I think maybe I pulled something when I was heaving this morning,” you shrugged, pulling your shirt back down.

“It was rather…enthusiastic,” he said, but his gaze still held a fair bit of worry, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, wincing a bit as the pain returned when you stopped pressing on the area. But within a few seconds, it had dissipated again. You made to keep walking on the trail, but Bill put a hand on your elbow and pulled you back gently.

“Tiger if this keeps up, I’m taking you to the clinic when we visit my family,” he said. You nodded gently.

“I’m okay bud,” you reassured him, “It was just a tiring morning. And doesn’t food poisoning last for a few days anyway? My system just needs to recover, that’s all.”

He wasn’t convinced, but neither were you. The nagging pain stayed in your abdomen, low and seemingly isolated to just one side, throughout the rest of the hike. It was pulling, a dull ache that intensified with the wrong movement, and it was probably bad enough to stop and head back but you were stubborn and the scenery was beautiful. When the nausea kicked in during the small reprieve from the pains, it took everything you had not to slow the group down. The trail was spinning around you, your stomach churning on itself as you just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. When the lake came into view it was a small miracle, the cool water and the weightlessness of it easing some of your strife.

It had eased a bit again towards the night, the nausea subsiding slightly when you had some food in your stomach, but you refused the bottle of alcohol making its way around the campfire. Bill disappeared into the food tent for a few minutes, emerging with some soda water and a lemon. Popping the top of the can, he held out his hand for your knife—which you untucked from your bra and handed to him—before carving a thin slice of lemon, pushing it through the opening of the can and handing it to you.

“Sleep in my tent tonight, okay?” He asked lowly so the group wouldn’t hear, wiping the knife clean on a spare towel. “I want to keep an eye on you.”

You weren’t about to fight him on it. And you didn’t have much clout to do so, because by the time the early morning rolled around—the sun having barely set before rising again—the exhaustion of the day had taken over, and you were already asleep on his shoulder. You heard his soft rumblings in Swedish, heard the final crackle of the campfire as one of his friends stomped it out, and then you were gently being lifted. A sturdy arm around your back, another one under your knees and then you were being pressed into a warm chest, a soft kiss in your hair, as he brought you to his tent.

The sleep was a welcome reprieve, his comforting presence even more so. You snuggled into him during the night, waking briefly to turn over and burrow into a warm chest, an arm snaking around your waist to hold you tighter, and in the blissful state of dreams you felt no pain.

And it had seemed better the next day, perhaps alleviated by the fact that you knew you didn’t have a choice. You were heading to his family’s compound that afternoon—the ferry ride wasn’t long but it was a bit tedious, and you knew that you couldn’t hide or be alone if the pain started to get too bad. You popped a few Tylenol beforehand, probably a few more than Bill would have approved of, but it was necessary. And it proved to be effective, for the first time in a long time the ache in your side just seemed to disappear.

There was only one sharp, stabbing white-hot flash of agony as you tried to haul your suitcase from the trunk of his car once you arrive—a bolt shocking enough to buckle your knees, but you cussed and quickly caught yourself on the trunk. Alarmed, Bill rushed to you and you waved him off as you stood…and somehow, the pain dissolved as quickly as it had come on.

“I just wrenched it wrong,” you jutted your head to the suitcase, “Fuck, maybe this whole thing was just a pulled muscle after all.”

You had almost convinced yourself.

Until it started to intensify again, a pain low in your side that seemed to radiate across a much bigger surface now. The nausea had subsided in favour of just the consistent pain, a constant knife in your lower abdomen, and you tried to breathe through it. It eased someone when you pressed down hard against it, but the minute you eased the pressure the pain was back tenfold, strong enough to buckle your knees.

It got to be too much one night, one evening where you were sure Bill’s entire family heard your gasping breaths, your laughter that always seemed to hide just a small scream whenever your abdomen moved. You finally gave up when the pain became too constant and too intense, and you feigned a yawn while clutching tightly to your right side to alleviate some of the sharp ache.

“I’m done bud,” you leaned over to Bill, patting his hand lightly. “I’m going to bed.”

“You sure you’re feeling okay tiger?” He asked, and you managed a smile.

“Fine bud, just jet lag and the whole food poisoning bit is taking a toll.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he rose, but you shoved him back down lightly.

“It’s right back here Bill, it’s fine,” you told him. The Skarsgard compound was made up of a few small houses, cabins really with a few rooms each, one for each of the kids whenever they came to visit. He nodded apprehensively, but you kissed his cheek and said goodnight to his family before making your way to his cabin. You clutched your side the whole way, pausing briefly when the urge to throw up took over, and when you finally made it in you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. Lifting your shirt, you looked down—the entire right side of your abdomen had started to bulge, started to protrude a bit, and you passed your hand over it in worry. It was hot to the touch, definitely swollen, but you knew first hand how much a bad bout of food poisoning could take its toll. Sighing, you made your way to one of the bedrooms and curled up into bed—positioning a pillow so that it kept constant pressure on your abdomen, and with some of the pain subsiding, you drifted off. You didn’t even hear Bill come home, didn’t hear him come into the room to check on you, didn’t even feel his fingers brushing back some hair from your face as he bent to kiss your forehead.

It was the best sleep you had all week, until you rolled over. When the constant pressure of your pillow eased off your stomach you jolted awake, stopping the scream right as it clawed through your throat. You bunched the sheets in your fist, trying not to tear them apart as you buried your face in your pillow and yelled in agony.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Grunting, you jammed your fist into your side—for some reason pressure really seemed to help— and tried to untangle the blankets. It was only then that you realized you were sweating—your sheets were soaked, your pyjamas drenched, and your body shook with a fever. You tried to stand but crumpled immediately, so you started to crawl. You needed Bill. You needed help, of some kind, and Bill could get it for you.

Dragging your body across the floor you stopped, laying face down on it, as nausea took over and clouded your vision. Fighting against it you heaved forward, but you just couldn’t. Bill’s room was down the corridor, and you couldn’t even make it to your own door before your vision started to go black. So you did the only thing you could do.

You screamed for him.

Your throat dry and sore, acid bubbling from your stomach, you screamed his name over and over. Part of it was to make sure he heard you, but part of it was just an outlet for the intense pain you were in. You collapsed forward, curling in on your side as you sobbed.

“Bill,” you cried, much lower and barely audible now, as black dots speckled your vision.

Thunderous footsteps shook the floor, you heard his bare feet skid on the hardwood, and then you heard his voice.

“Oh my god, tiger,” he muttered, and you fought to stay conscious. You were so relieved that you just wanted to let it all go but you had to stay with him, had to try and tell him what was wrong so he could get you help.

Green eyes, clear and alarmed, broke through the tunnel vision and you sobbed as his hand rested on your forehead.

“It’s your stomach again?” He asked, “You’re burning up kid.”

He pushed you over onto your back and pulled your shirt up as you writhed.

“Oh fuck,” he cussed lowly when he saw your abdomen, badly swollen on the right hand side, bright red on the lower half. Pulling your shirt down he looped his arm under your knees, the other one around your back.

“I’m sorry tiger,” he breathed, “But this might hurt.”

In one fluid motion he grabbed you and stood with you in his arms, but it jostled your stomach and you grabbed tight hold of his shirt, trying to hold back the shout.

“Just scream if you have to kid,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

And then he took off running. Down the steps, out the door, back to the main house on the grounds. You held on as best you could, fading in and out of consciousness as he sprinted to his mom. Once there he threw his shoulder into the door and it flew open—nobody locked their doors around there—and then he was yelling in Swedish. Swedish always sounded a little frantic to you, but even you could hear the panic in his voice.

He set you down as gently as he could on the kitchen table and then his mom appeared in her nightgown, pushing him out of the way. You were always struck at how much he resembled his mother, all kind eyes and gentle hands, but he also had her lines of severity—the seriousness in her face, the crease in her brow as she inched your shirt up.

Bill stood at your head, kissing your forehead and weaving his hands in your hair.

“Just stay with me kid,” he murmured to you, and then more Swedish to his mom. When a worried sibling, one of his much younger ones, popped their heads around the corner, she said something to him and you only caught one name—Sam. The kid took off at full speed out the front door.

She passed her hand over your stomach, pressing down oh so gently on the lower right side, and for a second—you breathed a sigh of relief. That helped ease the pain.

But then she removed her hand, and you couldn’t even stop the blood curdling scream that tore through you. Bill grabbed your arms as you lurched forward, trying to comfort you as you sobbed.

A deeper voice came in then, more Swedish, and you blinked as Sam came into view. All of the siblings looked like shades of the same person, and for a second you thought you had double vision—until Bill tilted your head up towards him, stroking your cheek.

“You’re okay tiger,” he said as he came into your line of sight, but god he looked so worried himself. “You’re in good hands.”

Sam was a man of few words, but some very telling facial expressions. Lifting your shirt gently, he quirked a brow and his lips tilted up in a small smirk—the smirk that came with a decade of being an ER doctor and having seen it all, the smirk that yes this was an emergency but he was nowhere near out of his depth, and then he looked to his mom and said the only Swedish word you recognized.

“Ja,” he said. Yes.

And then it was a flurry of activity. Bill held you down on the table, his cell phone at his ear as his mom fetched a medical bag. She handed it to Sam, who started digging through it.

“Bill…” you started to panic, “What’s happening?”

He was talking, dictating, seemingly giving instructions.

“Bill…” you started to squirm, your tone a little more shrill—and then he hung up, moving to your side so you could see him.

“Tiger listen to me,” he commanded, and you had never heard him use such a harsh tone of voice before, “They think your appendix burst.”

“They what,” you shrieked, and you tried to sit up but suddenly there were a lot of hands gently pushing you back down. You slammed your back onto the table, yelling and reaching for Bill’s hand as another searing pain cut through your abdomen.

“There’s no way,” your grunted through the pain.

“My brother knows what he’s talking about kid,” Bill said, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Sam said something in Swedish then, and Bill turned to him. You saw him stiffen immediately, and when you craned your neck to see around him, you knew why. Sam had an IV bag, a syringe on a butterfly clip, and he was explaining something to Bill—but if Bill had hackles, they would have raised then and there. He asked a question, his tone seemingly harsh, and Sam just gave a regretful small smile and a shrug. You lurched for Bill, grabbing on to his arm.

“No,” you said forcefully, “Bill, no. Tell him fucking—”

He leaned over you, grabbing your face in his hands. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and his eyes bore into yours.

“Tiger, faint,” he commanded.

“What?” You sniffled.

“Pass out,” he commanded harshly again, “You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

“I don’t want the needle Bill,” you sobbed, starting to see spots, “No needles please—”

“Now tiger,” he snapped, and he kept a tight hold of your face, “You need the drugs in that bag to keep you alive until we get to the hospital, and it’ll be easier if you just fucking faint.”

“No, I don’t want—” you begged, but your vision was already starting to tunnel again. Bill sighed, closed his eyes, steeling his nerves for his next move. If you weren’t going to listen to him, if you weren’t at least going to try to help, then he had other tactics. You’d be madder than hell, but you would be alive—and that’s all that mattered.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hate me,” he whispered to you. You had started to push back against him, but he held your face in front of his.

“That needle is big, tiger,” he lied, “It’s fucking huge. And you can stay awake for it as he jams it in, which will hurt like hell because it’s long and has to stab through the muscle of your abdomen—”

You whimpered, your vision dotting again at just the thought, as fear and terror took over. You clutched desperately at his shirt as you sobbed.

“Why are you—”

“It’s not going in your arm or in your leg or anywhere pleasant kid. That huge ass needle has to go straight through your torso and stay there, and you’ll feel every ounce of it unless you just—”

You went limp on the table, your eyes rolling back as your vision went black.

“….pass out,” Bill sighed. He turned and nodded to his brother, who inserted the IV into your arm as the wailing of the sirens could be heard in the distance. Bill knew that as long as you were conscious, there was no way his brother was getting near you with the needle—but he also knew that a burst appendix was critical, and that you needed to be stabilized immediately.

You came to briefly in the ambulance, opening your eyes to see the foggy vision of Bill’s face, worried, hovering over yours. His thumb gently stroked your eyebrow and he gave you a small smile, mumbled some words that you couldn’t make out. You lifted your hand to tug on the mask covering your nose and mouth but he intercepted it, kissing your knuckles before you were taken by blackness again.

You didn’t know how long you were out for, only that it seemed to take awhile to claw your way back to consciousness from the depths of…something. You were drowsy, groggy, things seemingly moving in slow motion as your brain started to clear. You heard the beeping first—annoying, consistent beeping. You didn’t feel the pressure of the oxygen mask on your face, only felt your lungs expanding and decompressing in time with the air being puffed into you. You felt the pinch of a device on your index finger, and then….something warm. A hand, gliding softly up and down your arm.

And then you heard his voice.

“Hi kid,” it was deeper, raspier than it should have been, and you almost didn’t think it was him. “Go slow, you might be a bit dizzy.”

A soft finger tracing down the bridge of your nose, that warm hand cupping your cheek.

“Open your eyes when you can,” he said, “You’re okay. It’s all okay now.”

Slowly, you peeled your eyes open—your vision was blurry, unfocused, and you blinked a few times to get it back right. You saw his outline, a shadow in your line of sight, as that warm hand continued to stroke your cheek. Your bed moved, a whirring mechanical noise followed, boosting you a bit more upright. Your stomach churned at the movement, and suddenly the oxygen mask felt constricting, felt suffocating. The acid in your gut bubbled.

“You’re okay tiger,” he said as his outline started to become more clear—green eyes, kind but so exhausted, deep bags beneath them. Stubble on his jaw, his entire face tense and creased with worry.

“You scared the hell out of me kid,” he told you, but your breathing started to get a lot more shallow, a lot quicker as your stomach rolled. You reached to tug on the mask as you felt the saliva start to gather in your mouth, but you were uncoordinated and Bill mistook your movements for panic.

“No kid, you have to leave it on,” he said and gently put your hand back at your side, “God tiger, you scared me so much. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dying. And you almost died, you idiot.”

“Bill—“ you groaned in warning, but it was warbled by the mask as you fought to stay conscious. You flailed slowly, drunkenly, trying desperately to point to the sickness bag you saw beside your bed, just out of reach. Bill stood and you had hope, but then he started pacing.

“Your appendix burst, tiger. It fucking exploded. That is not good,” he ranted, “That is really, really NOT good.”

You whined, pointing to the bag and still trying to reach your mask to tug it free.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” He was on a roll, but he stopped to gently place your hand back at your side again. “You could have died of septic shock or some shit. You were in surgery for 6 fucking hours, kid. They had to vaccuum out all of your guts.”

That definitely didn’t help. And he had just come to stand in front of you when you finally reached your mask, yanking it off with urgency. You had meant to ask for the bag, to yell at him to move, but the minute you opened your mouth—it was too late, and all control was lost. You catapulted forward, throwing up all over him.

Bill stood there, stunned. You looked at him, horrified.

“Right,” he sighed, shaking his head lightly, “They warned me you might do that.”

“Oh my god, Bill,” you looked at him, your cheeks burning with embarassment, “I am so sorry bud.”

“It’s alright,” he said calmly.

“I was trying to warn you,” your eyes clouded with tears, your brain still in a fog. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth as you tried to get the words out. “I wanted to ask for the bag but I just…it all just…”

“Tiger it’s okay,” he soothed, “Just uh, give me a second okay?”

You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks uncontrollably, and he disappeared into the bathroom in your hospital room. You sighed, easing back onto your pillows—you couldn’t feel any pain, but something in your side was definitely tugging—you ignored it, just trying to focus on getting the room to stop spinning.

You heard the tap running, and a second later he emerged from the bathroom without his shirt and with a small glass of mouth wash for you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again pitifully, but he sat down beside your bed and stroked your cheek, handing you the cup.

“Rinse,” he said. You gulped it back, swishing it around before spitting it back into the cup. He took it from you, sighing as he held your face in his hand. He helped you rest back against the pillow, fluffing it around your head and you grabbed onto his hand to hold it tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I think so,” you said, your thumb stroking over his knuckles, “What happened, bud?”

“Do you remember anything?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“Nothing past like….going to bed that night, our first night at your family’s place,” you said. He nodded.

“Your appendix ruptured kid,” he said, “They think some time that afternoon, and it was so inflamed by then that you just didn’t feel it until you were already almost in septic shock.”

Your eyes widened, and he tucked some hair behind your ear.

“So it wasn’t food poisoning.”

“No it was something slightly bigger than that,” he chuckled, “You were in surgery for almost a whole day, tiger. They had to clean everything out.”

“That sounds awful,” you grumbled. He smiled sympathetically.

“You’re on some strong painkillers now,” he said, “But you’re going to have a pretty nasty scar from the incision.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, and you started to push the blankets back, “I need to see it.”

“Tiger, maybe you shouldn’t—” he tried to caution, but you were already trying to get the blankets down your legs.

“Turn around,” you told him, and he sighed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I’m wearing anything under this gown asshole,” you snapped, and he rolled his eyes but turned his back to you.

Pulling your hospital gown up, you tucked the blankets back around your hips and you gasped as you looked down. It put Bill on edge.

“Tiger I’m turning back around,” he said harshly, “So just cover whatever you don’t want me to see.”

But you were too stunned. A huge incision, a good 5 inches long, cut through your abdomen on your right side, angry and red, but neatly stitched.

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” he sighed. Your mouth still hung open.

“It’s…it’s huge,” you whimpered, “Oh god, that’s going to scar. Fuck, why couldn’t they have used the camera? And only done one or two tiny incisions?”

“Because your appendix exploded tiger,” he emphasized, “They literally had to vacuum out your insides to get rid of all the toxic shit.”

“Stop saying that,” you muttered, “It’s gross.”

You tugged the gown down, leaning back on the bed. The tiredness was starting to hit you again; You still felt a bit loopy, a bit out of sorts with the meds coursing through your body.

“It’s true,” he said with a shrug, and then he softened when you glared at him. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” you said.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” you sighed, “Just tired.”

You closed your eyes as exhaustion started to take over. Bill reached a hand out, cupping your face and stroking his thumb gently over your cheek. You opened your eyes lazily to peer at him, and he leaned to press a soft kiss your nose.

“You scared the hell out of me tiger,” he murmured. It was quiet, but you heard the fear in it. The slight quiver in his voice, the gravity of it. Your lips tilted up in a sad smile as you brought your hand over his.

“I know,” you told him, “And I’m sorry bud. But thank you. I’d be in real trouble if it weren’t for you.”

He gazed at you for a long moment, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek almost to reassure himself that you were there, awake, in front of him, and okay. You held his stare, smiling softly at him and reaching up to tug on a longer piece of his hair. But when he flicked your nose playfully as he stood back up, you panicked. You didn’t want him to go.

“Hey bud,” you asked nervously, “You uh, you shouldn’t be driving back this late at night. The roads are dark and—“

“Relax kid,” he saw right through what you were trying to ask, “I’m staying with you.”

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped, or just the few tears that followed. It had all been so much—so many days of pain, so much anxiety over it, and the toll that emergency surgery was having on your body and your mind. The thoughts of your incision, how big it was, how it pulled every time you moved. You sniffled, unable to stop it, and Bill just wiped gently at your cheeks.

“Scoot,” he jutted his chin at the bed, and you looked at him confused.

“What?”

“Scoot,” he said again, nudging your hip, “Easy now, we have to do this on your other side.”

He pulled down some of your blankets, rearranged your IV lines so that they wouldn’t catch.

“Bill you won’t fit,” you mumbled, but god you wanted nothing more than to just hug him to you. To have some steady source of comfort, of safety, something good to hold you through the night after all of this turmoil.

“Tiger I don’t fit into most places,” he said as he toed off his shoes, “It never stopped me.”

Sniffling, you started to move to one side of the small hospital bed. You moved gingerly, but you still hissed when the motion was too sudden and it pulled on your stitches. Bill immediately put a hand on your shoulder, steadying you. You took a few deep breaths, as deep as you could manage, before nodding briefly to him. He helped you move, scooting you over and then he climbed in. He tried not to jostle the bed too much, but he looked ridiculous—his legs sticking out, his wide shoulders trying to cram in on themselves, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle.

“She laughs,” he said with a playful glare, “I save her from imminent death and she laughs.”

“I’m sorry,” you snickered, “I just…sometimes I forget how big you are.”

After some more fidgeting he finally settled, on his back with one leg bent at a sharp angle and the other one completely on your side.

“Alright, come here,” he said, lifting his arm up to make space for you. You shuffled forward gently into him, leaning your head in the crook of his shoulder and putting a hand on his chest. He moved some of your wires and IVs out of the way before wrapping his arm around your back.

“This okay?” He asked, and you threw a leg over his to give him more room.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “It’s perfect.”

“Goodnight kid,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got promises to keep.”

“And miles to go before I sleep,” you completed your little mantra to each other, patting his chest softly. The silence was comfortable, easy, devoid of any of the strain and strife that the last few days held.

“Bill?” You said, after a few minutes.

“Mmm?”

“Thanks bud,” you murmured as you nuzzled more into him, “For everything.”

“Always.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #BFF!Bill

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {3}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: And so it begins.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

“I hear Cairn brought you my gift.”

Rowan eyed Maeve, his jaw locked as he observed her, taking a mental note of his surroundings. He reached his hand into his jacket.

Maeve’s haughty laughter had him freezing.

“Oh, Rowan, you and I have too high of morals to kill each other in a back alley,” she crooned. “Besides, I’m alone and unarmed.”

“You expect me to believe that you’re alone and unarmed?” Rowan asked, but his hand fell back down to his side, nonetheless.

“Yes,” she answered, plainly. “You see, I didn’t come here to take a life, nephew, especially not yours, not today. I came to explain myself.”

Rowan sighed, pulling his cigarette case out of his front pocket. “Very well.”

He pulled out a cigarette and stuck in between his teeth as Maeve said, “You killed Arobynn.”

“Well, he was threatening my life, so,” Rowan mumbled, igniting his lighter.

“Arobynn was my lover,” Maeve continued, as if he said nothing. She had a far off look in her dark, clouded eyes. “The love of my life. I was pregnant with his child, his son, his heir.”

Rowan blew smoke into the narrow alley before turning to meet Maeve’s gaze. “Your point?”

“Once I received word in Eyllwe that Arobynn had been killed, I was so stricken with grief that I lost the baby,” she said, words soft.

The sarcastic words faded from Rowan’s tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. The loss of a child, no matter how horrid that child’s parentage, was no easy loss.

“An apology?” Maeve asked, intrigued.

“For your child,” Rowan said. “Not for Arobynn, he deserved what he got.”

“And here I thought we were having a moment,” Maeve said. She kept her distance.

“Drop your shit, Maeve, tell me why you’re here and fuck off before I lose my sense of morals and put a bullet in your head, unarmed or not.”

Maeve lifted a thin, sculpted brow. “My nephew finally has a backbone? How refreshing.”

Rowan said nothing as he put his cigarette back between his lips.

“You all betrayed me. After all I had done for you boys, raising you after your father’s death, taking care of everything while you were all away at war…” Maeve’s words trailed off and she shook her head, violently, those clouded eyes turning vicious. “And you murder my love? Not to mention that my child’s blood is on your hands, as well.”

Rowan smiled, but there was nothing humored in it. “You knew he was going to kill me, your own fucking nephew, and didn’t give a damn.”

“Perhaps not,” Maeve said, words light, once more. “And perhaps that’s why I intend to finish what he started.”

“Is that so?” Rowan asked, back pressed up against the brick of the Fireheart, once more.

“Yes, starting with the others,” Maeve said, her heels clicking against the cold ground as she approached. “Fenrys and Connall, Lorcan, Vaughan, Gavriel,” she continued, until she was standing just in front of him. She was a head shorter than he, but had a way of making him feel two inches tall. “Which saddens me, because I was always fond of Vaughan and Gavriel.”

“I’m sure the guilt will eat you up,” Rowan muttered, blowing smoke into her face.

She didn’t balk, but her eyes narrowed. “I will force you, nephew, to watch all of them die, so that you know their blood is on your hands, and when they are all dead, and your heart is as broken as mine, I will come for you, and I will kill you.”

“Hard to break the heart of someone that doesn’t have one,” Rowan said, eyeing his aunt as she took a step back and adjusted her coat.

“We both know that’s shit, Rowan,” Maeve said, eyes bright. “Your heart is bigger than all of theirs.”

Rowan scoffed. “You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

“Of course, I do,” Maeve said. “If you were heartless, I’d already be dead.”

She was right. Rowan Whitethorn was a bad man, but he still had morals, still had a code that he lived by. And as he watched Maeve walk away, he cursed himself for it, because he should have shot her there and then.

If he had, he would have avoided one hell of a storm.

~~~~~

Lorcan pushed open the front door of their home to find Natalia, a finger held up to her lips.

He knew that if he made any noise, she would have his balls - and that was not a figure of speech. The baby was sleeping, and it was hell to get that baby asleep.

Elide crept inside behind him and nodded her thanks to Natalia before taking Lorcan’s hand and leading him up the stairs, and down the hall.

“You’re drunk,” Lorcan sang to his wife as he stumbled inside as she shut the door behind them.

“Am not,” she fought back, but her eyes were lit with mischief and glazed over from the vodka.

“Look at you, letting your hair down,” Lorcan laughed, pulling his wife into him by her waist. Her head fell against Lorcan’s chest, then she was instantly clawing at his clothes.

Lorcan couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed his jacket down his arms, then his shoulder holster.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” he muttered, as she sloppily handled the machinery. With a shaky, excited hand, Elide pulled the revolver out of the leather holding and pointed it at the ceiling.

“Don’t act like you don’t think I’m sexy with a gun,” she slurred.

Lorcan reached up and took the gun away before slowly turning around and carefully setting it on the nightstand. “Sexy? Of course. Always. But dangerous? Also yes. And I prefer I don’t get shot tonight.”

Elide was on the floor, unbuckling her heels before kicking them off, then sliding her stockings down her legs. “I would never, I have a great shot.”

“You do,” Lorcan agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “when you’re sober.”

With a roll of her eyes, Elide was hopping back up on her bare feet. “Do you wanna fuck, Lorcan Salvaterre?”

Lorcan snorted, his grin spreading as he took a step toward his wife. “I always want to fuck.”

“Not true,” she said, shaking her head slyly as she wrapped her thin arms around his waist. “We’re not as crazy as we used to be.”

“We’re responsible parents now,” Lorcan argued.

Elide laughed. “We did create a pretty perfect human, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Lorcan breathed, pushing Elide’s dark hair out of her face and kissing her forehead, softly. “We did.”

“Let’s make another,” she said, unbuttoning his trousers.

“Well I - oh, fuck.”

She shoved her hand into his trousers, grabbing his balls.

Every word that had entered his mind quickly faded away as she fell onto her knees and shoved his trousers halfway down his thighs. “I, um-”

“Hush,” she mumbled, pulling his cock out and sliding her tongue along the sensitive skin. A long, low moan tumbled out of Lorcan’s mouth.

“Natalia is awake,” Lorcan muttered.

“Let her hear,” Elide said, as her lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Lorcan’s protests faded away as his head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut. A string of curses left his mouth as Elide’s head began to bob, back and forth, her hands gripping his ass.

He felt the need to stop her, although he wasn’t sure why. Since the birth of Lucielle, they had only had sex on very specific nights, when they knew Lucy was fast asleep and Natalia had already prepared and turned in for bed, or when one of the others had Lucy for a night and Natalia was off doing her own thing.

Those nights did not come often.

At least, not often enough.

Let her hear.

Very well, then. Lorcan lifted Elide up, off the ground, and held her up against him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to their bed. He dropped her, hiking up her skirt as he pressed himself down on her, grazing his lips across her neck.

He didn’t need convincing.

If Elide didn’t care that Natalia heard, Lorcan would make sure his wife’s beautiful voice was heard throughout the house, throughout the street, throughout the city as he made love to her, over and over again.

~~~~~

The night air was cool as Aedion and Lysandra walked back to her townhouse, Gavriel and the twins close behind. Aedion thought it best that he walk her home himself, considering the circumstances. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, terrified that something had happened to her.

He couldn’t help himself.

Once they arrived in front of her front door, Gavriel told them goodnight, then Fenrys” and Connall did, as well, strolling away with the women on their arms from the club.

Aedion turned to Lysandra and grinned. “I had fun tonight.”

“So did I,” she beamed, leaning against her front door. “I like being the guest of Aedion Ashryver.”

“Then let’s hope we can do it again soon,” Aedion shot back.

“Let’s hope,” she repeated.

Aedion’s grin widened as he nodded. “Well, I’ll say goodnight, then. Sleep well, Lys.”

He turned to walk away, but Lysandra’s voice had him coming up short.

“Aedion?”

He froze, and looked over his shoulder.

Lysandra’s eyes were wide, her lips parted. Aedion’s heart was beating rapidly as she asked, “Would you like to stay?”

A thousand responses flooded Aedion’s mind, but he finally came up with, “Yes.”

“Good,” she breathed, relieved, as if he would actually say no.

Lysandra took a key out of her clutch and turned the lock, Aedion close behind as she entered. He had been in her home plenty of times, but this time was different as she turned into the den and started a fire in the fireplace.

“Sit,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Aedion did not hesitate as he plopped down on the couch and tossed his ankle over his knee.

Lysandra slipped off her shoes before joining him there. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No,” he said, smiling softly. “If I have any more to drink I’ll pass out right here, soon enough.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve passed out in front of me,” she chuckled, bringing her knees up beneath her on the soft cushions.

Aedion chuckled. “True, but the last time that happened I was a child. What, seventeen?”

“Seventeen and too fond of cheap wine,” she laughed.

“I have since learned,” he assured her. “And that wine was delicious.”

“That wine was awful,” Lysandra argued, shaking her head.

Aedion’s lips twitched. “Perhaps so.”

He looked over at her, closing the mere inches that sat in between them on the dark piece of furniture with his eyes. He longed to reach out, to brush her hair back, the stray wisps that fell too far into her face. He longed to take her into his arms, longed to kiss her lips, softly, to tell her how much he loved her, still.

But he had learned long ago that telling her of his feelings only led to her shutting him down, and he understood it, so he had stopped pushing years before. Whatever happened between them would happen slowly, at her pace, and he would wait, respectfully.

No matter how long that would be.

He just loved watching, seeing how far she had come in the last two years. Her confidence bloomed. She walked with her chin held higher, took pride in her work, and in her home. She smiled more, her eyes had become brighter.

She no longer looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“So,” she said, cocking her head to the side as she watched him. “I must tell you a secret.”

“A secret?” Aedion asked, instantly intrigued.

“About Aelin,” Lysandra went on, smugly.

Aedion arched a brow. “Well, now I feel you’re enjoying this. Which means it must be pretty big. So, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“You have to promise not to tell a soul,” Lysandra crooned.

Aedion sighed, dramatically, but then he nodded. “Fine. I promise.”

Lysandra’s grin spread wide. “Aelin’s pregnant.”

Aedion stilled, then a loud, humored laugh fell from his lips. “Pregnant?”

Lysandra nodded, excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Can you believe it? She’s going to be such a great mother. And little Lucy will have a cousin to play with.”

Aedion watched her, giddy over her excitement, giddy over the news, but his smile soon began to fade and he suddenly felt himself sobering up.

What a horrible time to be bringing a child into the world.

A war with Maeve was about to begin, if what Rhoe had told them all was to be true, and Rowan was the main target, so it seemed.

Rowan, the father of that child.

If Maeve was successful, and Aelin was left alone...it wasn’t that she couldn’t do it, but to do it, without him, her true love, her soulmate, would be unbearable.

And he would hate to see his cousin in such pain, such sorrow.

As if she could sense his thoughts, could read his mind, Lysandra was reaching across the cushion to take his hand in hers. Her smile was wistful as he met her gaze.

“They will make it out of this,” Lysandra said. “It is just another chapter that the Cadre must endure, another villain that must be defeated.”

Aedion chuckled, although he suddenly felt exhausted. “You speak of them as if they are saints.”

“Not saints,” Lysandra said, “but not as awful as they wish to be perceived.”

Aedion didn’t disagree. “I worry for her, not for them.”

“I know,” Lysandra breathed. Her fingers tightened around his.

“You still wear my pendant.”

Lysandra started, hesitated, then laughed, quietly. She reached up to fiddle with the emerald pendant around her neck. “Of course, I still wear it. Why wouldn’t I?”

Aedion shrugged, smiling softly as he reached up to brush his thumb over the pendant.

Lysandra’s entire body tensed.

Aedion’s hand quickly fell to his lap. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m sorry-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.

But she was shaking her head. “Of course, I do, Aedion.”

Her smile had vanished, her brows furrowed.

“Lysandra-”

“I still love you, Aedion, just as I always have,” she whispered.

Aedion had said those words to her a million times, but Lysandra scarcely spoke of her feelings, at all. “You don’t have to, Lysandra.”

“It is not fair to you,” she went on, pulling her hand away from his, at last. “I know that you have waited for me, Aedion, but it’s not fair that I’ve asked you to.”

“You haven’t asked me to,” Aedion fought.

Lysandra smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You deserve better, Aedion.”

“Lys-”

“I love you,” she breathed, saying those words again. Aedion couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a single thought. “I love you, Aedion, but you deserve better than this.”

“Better than what?” he asked, shocked by the words coming out of her mouth.

“Me,” she laughed, humorlessly.

Aedion scooted a few inches closer to her, and reached for her hand, once more. She did not protest.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, again, his voice quiet. “I would rather wait the rest of my life than spend it with anyone but you.”

A tear slid down Lysandra’s cheek as she palmed Aedion’s. “I would love nothing more than to kiss you, to bed you, to call myself your wife, but I fear that I will never be able to do that without the ghosts of every man I have ever fucked for a petty penny lingering, judging, staring at me with such judgement and hatred….”

Aedion let go of her hand, only to take her face into both of his. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the dampness. His heart broke at her words, at the ghosts that haunted her. “I have never seen you as a whore, Lysandra, and I never will.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I am so in love with you. I always have been. You are beautiful, kind, brave, passionate, selfless…I have never met a woman like you, Lys. I will not pretend to know what you have gone through, what baggage you carry, but you must know that I love you, despite your past, your past doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me, not when it comes to my adoration for you.”

“You are too good to me, Aedion-”

“I only tell you what I mean, what I feel,” he said. “What you deserve to be told.”

Her eyes were lit with something Aedion couldn’t quite place, but then she fell into his shoulder, and Aedion’s arm quickly wrapped around her, bringing her in close. They sat like that, in the silence, clinging to one another. Aedion didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare say another word.

So he kept quiet, but his arm stayed wrapped around her, as Lysandra’s head rested snugly against his shoulder.

~~~~~

Rowan entered the house, Aelin close behind. On the ride back to the estate, neither of them had said a word. At first, Aelin attempted to ask questions, but when it was clear that Rowan wasn’t in the talking mood, she remained silent.

His talk with Maeve had set him off. It wasn’t that he was surprised. He expected a visit from Maeve sooner or later, but the words she had spat at him left him in a sober state of mind.

She wanted him to watch everyone he loved die.

She wanted him to suffer, just as she had suffered, thanks to him.

Once they arrived at their estate, Rowan had stomped into the house and up the stairs, into his office. He pulled out a glass and bottle of whiskey. After filling the glass, he sat behind his desk and lit a cigarette, pulling off his jacket. His newsboy hat was discarded on the desk, the razors hidden beneath the bill in full view.

What a life he lived.

Danger. Insecurity. Instability.

It wasn’t a life he wanted to bring a child into, and yet, it was the only life he had. Yes, they had begun to dabble in legal business, but that wasn’t enough to keep them afloat, that wasn’t what had gotten them the spectacular home in which they currently resided.

Aelin had grown up in the same situation, Rhoe dabbling in unlawful dealings, but she deserved better, so much better.

Rowan sighed, in a dream of tobacco and whiskey, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing.

He had to do something.

He wouldn’t let his family die.

But he had no idea what that would be. Killing off Maeve would be too easy. She had a ton of men in her corner, nearly thirty, as Vaughan and Connall had replayed to him earlier that evening. Thirty against his eleven?

He needed more men.

It would be war.

Which was ridiculous, because they were family, he and Maeve. Maeve was his only living relative, and this is how it would end: battle of the fittest, whoever shot first would be the one who defeated the other.

Rowan’s mother would be ashamed.

But he couldn’t think of that now. Now, he had a duty to his men, to his Cadre, to his wife and his unborn child.

That is where his duty lied.

The door to his office was pushed open, and he opened his eyes to meet Aelin’s, hesitantly closing the door behind her. She said nothing, only watched him as she leaned back against the thick oak.

Rowan took the cigarette out of his mouth as he took a long, slow drink from his glass.

“I’d offer you a pour, but it would be bad for the baby,” Rowan said, at last.

Aelin just shook her head. She slowly entered the room, sitting in the chair opposite of his, across his desk. “I wish you would talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, simply.

“Bullshit,” she said, but her voice was light. “I’ve known you for some time, Rowan, and I grew up with Rhoe as a father. I know this life, and you are not fooling me.”

Rowan put the cigarette back between his teeth and blew a puff of smoke into the air before he said, “It’s not for you to worry about. Go to bed.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, her lips parting as her perfectly sculpted blonde brows rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? You're my husband, Rowan, of course it’s my fucking business to worry about! Try telling me that again and see where it gets you.”

Rowan sighed, his eyes falling shut, once more. He wasn’t in the mood for fighting. “Go to bed, Aelin.”

“No,” she snapped, through gritted teeth. “Not until you talk to me-”

“I don’t want to talk!” he yelled, his hand hitting the top of his desk with such force that it made Aelin jump.

“Well, I don’t give a damn what you want!” Aelin yelled, after she collected herself. “We’re married now, Ro, and you’ve been keeping shit bottled up, and it’s pissing me off.”

Rowan downed his glass of whiskey before slamming the glass down on his desk. He pushed himself up on his feet and began pacing. Aelin sat, perfectly still, watching.

“Fine, you wanna talk about it?” he said, at last, flicking ash onto the floor. “You wanna fucking talk about it, A? Maeve wants to kill you all, alright? And do you know why? Because of the fucking bullet I put through Arobynn’s head! It’s all my fucking fault!”

Aelin didn’t reply. She wasn’t surprised by the words that spewed from his mouth. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

When she said nothing, Rowan went on, “I’ve put you all in jeopardy. All of you. The Cadre, you, the baby-” His words fell off, and he covered his mouth. Then, he cursed, loudly and brutally, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault.”

“Ro-”

“You, the baby, I’ve put you in danger-”

“Rowan-”

“I can’t...I can’t fucking-”

“Ro!”

He stopped pacing, meeting her gaze with green eyes full of pure hatred, pure distress. “What?”

“Breathe,” she said, simply. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he sat back down in his chair. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m the leader,” he said, simply.

“So, what?” she asked, leaning across his desk. “Ro, we’re in this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

But Rowan remained quiet, folding his hands on top of his desktop. He blew out smoke into the silence, the cigarette parked between his teeth.

She gave him a moment as he thought it over. There was a lot to think over, after all. Maeve’s visit had him on edge, had his hands shaking, his mind reeling. She had shaken him up, which was surely her intention. Yet, he couldn’t help but let her get to him.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, at last, refusing to meet Aelin’s eyes. “Worried. For you, for the baby.”

“I know,” Aelin breathed.

“I don’t know what to do,” he continued, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “I don’t know how to make things right. Maeve, her men, they’re out for us, A.”

Aelin said nothing as her worried eyes met his. Rowan just shook his head, slowly. “I’m the leader of this fucking thing, and I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You don’t have to know-”

“Yes, I do!” he yelled, and Aelin went silent. “It’s my fucking job to know! And I don’t, okay? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to keep us all safe, and I don’t know the right thing to say!” Rowan took the cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on his desk. His face fell into his hands. “We’re all going to suffer. And, I don’t know how to stop it.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she stood from her chair and came around his side of the desk. Rowan didn’t move as she came up behind him and wrapped her slender around him, her lips pressing into the side of his cheek.

“You’re not alone, Ro,” she whispered.

Rowan appreciated the gesture, but he felt like he was alone, felt like he was the face of this battle. He was the one that had killed Arobynn, after all. It was necessary, of course, but it had caused quite the reaction.

Which was to be expected, he supposed, even if it was delayed, two years later.

There was no winning solution.

“I want you to stay here, at all times, unless someone else is with you,” he said, at last, keeping his voice quiet.

Aelin looked as if she wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Okay,” she said, at last.

Rowan nodded, taking her face into his hands. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

Aelin nodded, smiling as comforting as she could, although Rowan felt no comfort at all.

He had to make this right.

Had to find a way to protect them all.

Because Maeve was right about one thing.

If any of them died, their blood would be on his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash @thewayshedreamed @wifeofchrishemsworth @loveofbooksandwine @mu-si-ca-l @rosalineroses @l0sts0uls1128

#tacmc ITBMW #tog #fanfic #rowaelin #elorcan #lysaedion

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dimensionwriter · 4 years

Text

Not Quite Dead Roommate

Male! Ghost x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warning: Some degradation (don’t know if that’s actually a trigger, but just wanted to make sure. So be careful)

Word Count: 7, 328

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“I think our house is haunted.”

Your roommate stared back up at you with those dark brown eyes. His pale skin had a light pink tinge on his cheeks due to him going through his second bag of hot cheetos.

“I think our house is haunted,” you repeated with a serious face. All your roommate did was slowly blink at you for a second before grabbing a hold of his black laptop. His slide his legs off the couch and patted the new made space.

“So, explain to me why you think our house is haunted all of a sudden?” he grumbled deeply as he closed his laptop. His dark curly brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun with a bunch of curls laying around his face.

You thought for a second he was taking you seriously until those dark pink lips slowly spread into a humorous smirk. His eyes were twinkling with amusement as he stared at you.

“I’m not joking,” you exclaimed throwing yourself on the couch. You naturally swung your legs on top of his and started glaring at him. His hand came from inside his hoodie, which was like a second skin to him, and rested on your legs. “Taoi, listen. This morning I woke up to the cabinet doors moving on their own.”

A small snort escaped his mouth as he tried to cover it. “This house is old. The cabinet probably moved because the house is settling.” You glared at him as he turned slightly smug for a second.

“Yesterday, I was in my room and the temperature dropped so low that I could see my breath,” you statd with a raised eyebrow. Taoi raised an eyebrow before rolling those dark brown eyes.

“Well,” he drew out fluttering his fingers up and down your leg. You tried your best to not get distracted from it as you stared at him. Even if his hand was chilling cold, it still felt nice on your leg, a little too nice. “You didn’t go to sleep the day before and was most likely hallucinating. I turned the air on higher because it was getting too stuffy for me. Probably just saw something floating across your room.”

“What about the time I went to get something to drink and there was nothing on the counter and I turned around to ask if you wanted something, which you said no to. But when I turned back around, there was a full cup sitting on the counter already.”

He looked up from your legs to shrug his shoulders. His dark eyes were too busy staring at his finger dancing across your skin.

He didn’t have an excuse. Yes, he couldn’t explain that, so he has to believe you.“Or the day when you were out for work, I passed by a mirror and saw something standing in my room. I turned around and nothing was there.”

He stopped his fingers and tensed up. His face slowly started turning pink as he turned to look out at the backyard.

“See, there’s no way to explain it. I really think our house is haunted,” you yelled grabbing his arm. You begin to shake him, trying to get that common sense in him.

“Fine. Fine. I believe you,” he yelped with a slight laughter in his voice. You stopped tugging him, but left your hands on his biceps. Your roommate wasn’t the buffest guy in the world, but he still had some muscle to him. “But don’t you think it’s weird how this ghost is only bothering you. Maybe…maybe it has a crush on you?”

You didn’t know it was possible for you to move that fast. In a blink of an eye, Taoi had one of the couch pillows slamming into his face. A high pitch squeal came from him as he tried to protect himself from your assault.

“Take this serious,” you grumbled slamming the pillow one last time into his face before throwing it behind you. Small giggles escaped from Taoi as he looked at you between his hands.

“I’m just saying. Waiting in your room for you, getting things out for you, checking in on you. Don’t you think those are pretty romantic,” he sung out fluttering his dark eyelashes. He twisted his body and laid down in the small space between you and the back of the couch, which was barely 4 inches. You moved your arm and wrapped it around him. He was quick to snuggle into your side with a small content sigh slipping out. You pretend to ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the moment.

“That’s not romantic in any shape or form,” you mumbled. Your fingers sunk into his fluffy hair and begin to play around with it. Taoi’s body seem to somehow melt as your nails scratched his scalp.

“What do you think is romantic?” He purred with a voice so deep that it scared you for a second. You sometimes forget that Taoi’s voice range can go to dog whistle or bass drop whenever he feels like it.

“Not haunting the crap out of me,” you said instantly glaring around, just in case the ghost was listening. A low whimper caused you to look down to see Taoi’s staring at you with doe eyes accompanied by his lips poked out. You were confused for a second before you realized you had stopped playing with his hair. Such a needy baby.

“No seriously. What do you find romantic?” He said throwing an arm around your waist. You tilted your head back as you tried to think. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and you kind of forgot what you liked. Ever since you moved in with Taoi, you really haven’t really found anyone that caught your eye.

“I really don’t know. Stuff that shows that the person cares about me. Maybe a few sweets and gifts would be nice, but nothing overbearing. Letting me steal a hoodie or two,” you joked at the end. Taoi was quiet after you stopped talking. Did he fall asleep?

“Mmm, okay,” he whispered. You looked down to see he was staring intensely at the floor. His eyes were glazed over slightly.

“Taoi. Are you okay?” He blinked slowly before looking up at you. A small gentle smile appeared on his face as his eyes begin to twinkle like the night stars. You breath got stuck in your throat as you looked down at him.

You’re not dumb, you do know that your roommate is extremely attractive. You’ve been able to live pretty normally with him with this knowledge. It just that he sometimes catches you off guard. Especially moments like this.

“Sorry, got distracted by that stain on the carpet. You should go to bed. You have work in the morning,” he rambled out patting your side. You narrowed your eyes at him, but still slide off the couch.

“That’s real rich coming from a guy who has insomnia,” you yelled walking to your room. You stopped at the door way and turned back to look at him. “You better take your medicine tonight. If I wake up in the middle of the night to see you standing around weirdly, I’m forcing you into a blanket burrito.”

A bark of laughter escaped him at your last statement. He started laughing so hard that he fell off the couch.

“Okay, I have accidently killed you. Well, I’m heading to bed. So goodnight.” You didn’t get a response from him. But you could still hear his high pitched giggles from outside your door.

The high pitched melody from your phone assaulted your ears as the intense sunlight melted your eyes through your eyelids. The throbbing sensation in your head slowly increased along with the alarm.

You quickly rolled over and slammed your finger on the dismissed button. Your body felt so icky and you wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But you needed to go to work.

Why did you think it was a good idea to stay up until 3 am to look up info on ghost when you had to be up at 6 for work? Do you really need money?

The temperature in your room plummeted. You gripped your covers as your eyes shot wide open. A slight fog was encasing your room in an eerily vibe.

“Can you not bother me right now?” You grumbled grabbing the quilt and wrapping it tighter around you. You just need 5 more minutes and you’ll deal with the ghost. Yeah, just 5 more minutes.

“Get…up,” an airy voice whispered in your ear. A light breeze fanned across your cheeks causing a chill to go down your spine. It was so close to you.

But you were too tired to care. You wanted nothing more than to drift into that peaceful land of sleep and let this throbbing headache fade away.

“Get up.” It said slightly louder. The quilt wrapped around your body was ripped from you. A loud groan of irritation erupted from your throat as the cold air hit your skin.

“Fine. I’m up!” you screamed jumping out of bed with a slight tantrum. You could see a figure disappear from the corner of your room. Your quilt laid on the ground, but instead of a jumbled mess, it was folded perfectly. At least they weren’t annoying you more with a mess to clean up.

Begrudgingly, you walked to your connected bathroom and started the shower. While the shower was warming up, you quickly brushed your teeth and did your face routine.

The mirror was fogged up from the steam of the shower, but you didn’t really need to see yourself in order to finish the routine. It was kind of muscle memory at this point.

“E-A-T-B-R-E-A-K-F-A-S-T.” The letters was slowly written in the fog on the mirror. You were kind of startled by it, but didn’t react that much. All you really did was roll your eyes at the statement and use your hand to wipe away the condensation on the mirror.

“I hope you’re not a perv and going to watch me take my shower,” you grumbled with a slight edge to your tone. You glared into the mirror at really nothing, but hope the ghost could see you.

“B-Y-E.” It appeared in the corner of the mirror, a spot you didn’t reach. The steam slowly faded away, making it feel like the creature really left you.

You walked out of your room to see a bunch of pancakes, waffles, pastries, and juice sitting on the little dining table. There was a small thing of scrambled eggs being made on the stove, but no one was near the stove.

“Taoi! What have I told you about leaving food unattended?” You yelled turning around. You looked at Taoi’s door as you waited for him to stumble out.

“What do you mean?” A voice hummed out. You turned around to see Taoi in his black hoodie holding the handle on the pan. His dark eyebrow was raised up in confusion as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I was watching it.”

“How-wait-what?” You stumbled as you turned between Taoi and his door. There was definitely no one in the kitchen. It’s an open space house, so there was no way he could have hid anywhere. How did he manage to get there?

“I was right here,” he said slowly while pointing to the eggs with a spatula. You blinked slowly at the statement. You know what you saw. “Is your little ghost boyfriend messing with your vision now?”

Your eyes narrowed threateningly at his statement. “It’s not my boyfriend. If anything, it’s annoying,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up. You felt like you were going to pass out from how tired you were.

“Aww, trouble in love town,” he teased scrapping the eggs onto a plate. He walked over to the dining table and placed the plate down. He pulled out a chair for you, which made you smiled a little.

When you first met, you told him he didn’t need to pull out a chair for you, but he still insists. He can be such a sweetheart sometimes.

“Now, tell Taoi why you angry with your little ghost?” he asked putting some food on our plate. While he did that, you grabbed the juice and pour your own cup and gave him some apple juice.

You explain to Taoi how the ghost decided to be your alarm this morning and wake you up. You even included the incident in the bathroom.

“Well, I thank the ghost. If he didn’t wake you up, I would have came in with the pillow you hit me with last night.” A small giggle escaped your mouth at his threat; he can barely hurt a fly. He would come in like always and just lightly shake you awake. The worst he has done was ripped the quilt off you, but a second later he folded it because he felt bad.

Almost like…like the ghost did.

You open your mouth to reveal an oddity when your phone rang. You pulled it out of your back pocket to see it had the word ‘Female Satan’ flashing on screen. Oh gosh.

“Hey, I need you to be at work in 17 minutes. Important people are coming over soon and I want us to go over the project with them,” she said instantly. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from screaming at her. She knew you lived 15 minutes from work, so she’s literally giving you no time to do anything else.

“Yes, ma'am. I’m heading out the door now,” you said in a polite tone as you stood up from the dining table. You tried to ignore the look Taoi was giving you and your untouched plate. You’ll just have to eat later.

“Good.” The phone was cut off and you let out a quick growl at it. You tucked it away in your back pocket.

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Taoi mumbled in the deep voice. Ah, he was getting upset. You felt really bad since he got up early to cook all of this, but your boss is so strict. You don’t need to be written up and punished because of her. “She’s called you for the last 2 weeks early in the morning. You haven’t had a chance to eat.”

You glanced at him as you grabbed your keys from the door. He was glaring intensely at your now cold plate.

You glance between the door and him. You got a few seconds.

You grabbed the side of his cheek and placed a kiss on it. His eyes widen and his head snapped your way. A light pink blush spread up his neck as you gave him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you Taoi for the meal. It made my day, really. I’m sorry that I haven’t had time to eat breakfast with you, but just seeing you is enough to give me the boost I need, especially knowing I can come home to see you. Thank you, Taoi.”

He just stared at your for a second in shock. You may or may not have crossed a line. The two of you are touchy and slightly affectionate, but kissing on the cheek is on an entire different level.

“Well, bye,” you stuttered running to the door. You didn’t lock the door, Taoi always locks it after you, and ran to your car.

Two minutes into your drive to work, you realize you left the bag with the paperwork on your bed. A huge dosage of adrenaline shot through you as you quickly swerved your car around.

If you drive fast enough and call a coworker to get a room set up for you, you should have enough time. Well, only if luck is on your side.

Quickly, you shoved your keys into the door and slammed it open. The first thing you noticed was the blasting music shaking everything in your house. Next was everything in your living room floating off the ground. And finally was Taoi dancing on top of the ceiling with the biggest smile on his face.

You stood for a second as you let the situation you were in sink in. Your roommate is dancing across the ceiling like he’s in a music video while stuff is spinning around the living room.

“I’m in love with my room-” he cut himself off as he finally made eye contact with you. Instead of his usual dark brown eyes, it was pitch black. His skin was a lot more pale, actually it was kind of see through. He seem to be more skinner with his black eyes sinking into itself.

“You’re-you’re home?! Here-now-why? Fuck,” he yelled looking around. Everything slammed on the ground, causing the coffee table to flip over. His body shot like a rocket into the floor.

“Yeah..Forgot something,” you mumbled in a dazed. You quickly walked past him and ran into your room. The door slammed behind you and you threw your body on it.

Black eyes. Pale see through skin. Floating in the air. Ability to make everything float. There’s no denying it, he’s a ghost. Your roommate is the ghost!

On top of your bed was your brown work bag with the paperwork in it. Oh yeah, work. Your boss is going to kill you if you show up late.

Sucking in a giant breath of air, you grabbed the bag in your right hand and with your left hand pushed open the door, maybe a little too hard since a loud crashing sound came from the impact it had on the wall. You kept your head straight forward and marched into the hallway to the living room.

In your peripheral, you could see Taoi was back to normal. His hood was all the way up with the drawstring pulled, making his face encased in fabric.

His head was quick to turn to you when you stepped into the living room. His mouth dropped open and his lips begin to move, but not a single sound came out of him. You continued walking with your head held forward.

“Wait!” He yelled as you open the door. He jumped off the couch and stumbled to get to the door. You quickly shut it on him with a slight shake in your hand. A light scraping sound echoed from inside the house followed by a soft whimper.

You don’t really remember the drive to work. You just blinked and you were sitting next to your annoying boss in a meeting with a client. She was clicking through a PowerPoint while pointing some stuff out with a laser.

Letting your head drop down, you looked down to see that your notepad was filled with random words. When did you write all of this?

'Ghost has been bothering you for months. Has appeared in your room throughout the day. Never was hostile. Roommate was seen floating in the air with black hollow eyes. Roommate must be ghost. Roommate is ghost. Ghost is not hostile therefore roommate is not hostile. Roommate is hot so ghost is-’

The random writing ends there with a bunch of harsh scribbles. Why would your brain think of that last part? This is a serious moment right now.

What are you supposed to do when you go home? Do you just walk in the door like 'what’s up my dead roommate. What did you cooked for dinner?’ There’s no way you can act natural around him without freaking out on him. Things have changed now.

But there was another part of your brain asking if it really had. You have been rooming with Taoi for 4 years now and not once has he ever did any harm to you. So what if he just turns out to be a spirit that is wondering the mortal land, that’s fine. He’s still that dorky, computer obsessed, mother goose Taoi. And you should be accepting of him, no matter what form he’s in.

So, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to slam the door in his face.

You slammed your head on the table and let out a low groan to vocalize the regret bubbling inside of you. How could you do that to him, sweet Taoi? He probably was scared, but still willing to talk, and you just straight up ignored him. You are officially the worst friend in the universe.

“Assistant!” You sat straight up and turned towards your boss. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at you with a look of disbelief. You were confused for a split second at her behavior before you realize that everything you just did could be seen and heard by your boss and clients.

“Sorry, sharp..stomach pains?” You sputtered out giving everyone an embarrassed smile. The client sat there while staring at you weirdly and your boss started raising an eyebrow in warning. “Sensitive stomach, you know.”

“Do they need…to be dismissed?” One of the clients whispered quite loudly to your boss. They were trying to appear to be subtle, but this room was so quiet that you could hear your cells moving, so them whispering was equivalent to them using a megaphone.

“Ah, yes. Go to the office, nurse, or whatever and feel better,” she said, barely sparing you a glance after waving you away. “We really care about our workers here at-”

You drowned her out as you scooted out of your chair. You instantly huddled over and grabbed your stomach, trying to really bring home your lie. With a quick few wobbles and fake gasp, you exited the room into the peaceful hallway.

Now, you have a good amount of time on your hand. Do you call Taoi and apologize to him and listen to his explanation? If you were him, you wouldn’t answer the phone at all. I mean, you slammed the door in his face.

The two of you have never blocked each other off while arguing. No matter how loud or angry the argument got, you still listened to each other. You guys just had that connection.

But you threw it down in the gutter and watched as it floated away in the rest of the trash in your life. That was a very vulnerable moment for him and you closed him out, physically and mentally.

But maybe, just maybe, you could fix this.

You closed the door to your office behind you and threw yourself on your work chair. The office was bleached white with no colour in it, except for the monotone stationary that occupied your desk.

Okay, so the plan. You’ll call Taoi and instantly apologize for your actions. Then you guys will make up and everything will go back to normal. Simple, right? Probably not that simple, but in a broader sense, that could be how things turn out. Hopefully Taoi is being forgiving this evening.

You grabbed your phone and ignored the notifications on your screen, you were on a mission. Dialing his number, you spun around with a sense of determination boiling within you.

“Um, hi,” Taoi stuttered out. But the phone pressed against your ear was still ringing. The voice was coming from the wall barely a feet from your face.

Taoi’s face was phased through the wall as he stared at you with those black eyes. The skin on his skull seemed to have sunken in with a few barely visible black veins running from his eyes.

You wanted to scream in fear from being startled by Taoi’s sudden appearance. Instead, a tidal wave of fear and anxiety flooded your senses, leaving you standing there like a fool.

“Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me-who would- but I called a couple of times to make sure you were okay and you didn’t answer. And I knew you were probably ignoring me, but then my anxiety was 'What if they got into a car accident and died’. I tried to fight against those thoughts because it’s you and you’re too awesome to die. However, they wouldn’t go away for nothing. So I decided it would be a good idea to come see you at work and-” he stopped rambling as he looked at your face. Throughout his word vomit, a giant smile was slowly spreading onto your face.

“You still checked on me, even after what I did,” you whispered giving him a pure joyful smile. His face contorted to confusion for a second.

He floated through the wall and landed on the ground. His pale, but peachy pigment slowly bled back into his skin as if life was being pushed back into him. He blinked a few times and the pitch black eyes slowly turned into those dark brown ones that you were used to, but those black one are becoming familiar too.

“I don’t think I understand. What did you do wrong?” He asked scratching the top of his head in confusion. His thick eyebrows were scrunched up as he did that adorable head tilt.

“I ignore you during a very important moment for us and then slammed the door in your face. A part of me believed you wouldn’t have wanted to deal with me,” you rambled out letting your eyes drifted away in shame. You suck as a friend.

“What!” He yelled scrunching up his face even more. “You did nothing wrong. I was the one who hide my identity from you. You were just simply shocked. I would have ran for the hills and never came back if I walked in to see my roommate turn into this hideous monster.” He forced out a harsh laugh that made your heart drop. Is that how he sees himself, as a hideous monster?

“First thing, you’re not a hideous monster; you’re Taoi who’s a handsome ghost that can steal the heart of anyone living and dead. Second off, why do you think I would run from you and never come back? I would miss you so much. I was in the midst of preparing myself to gravel at your feet for you to take me back,” you spoke from the heart as you stared into his eyes. A light pink blush slowly spread onto his face as his eyes dropped to the ground.

“You’re too important to me for you to just disappear,” you whispered. You took a step closer to him and placed a single finger under his chin. You lifted his head and a pair of sparkling black eyes stare back at you.

“So, you don’t care that I’m not exactly human,” he mumbled twirling his thumb. You could feel how tense he was just from under your finger.

“You could literally be a glob and I would still not care. I like you for who you are, not for what you are,” you said giving him a giant smile. He frowned for a split second before his hands came up to his face.

He floated off the ground and circled into a ball near the ceiling. A muffled high pitch scream came from as his feet kicked around a bit. Gosh, he’s adorable.

“You okay, Taoi?” you teased getting on your tippy toes. He peaked the top of his head out of his hands and you realized he shifted again. His sharp cheekbones were completely red from how hard he was blushing. You didn’t know he could turn that red. “I thought ghosts were suppose to be see-through, not red.”

He let out a groan and covered his face again. “It’s because of you. I feel like you know. Wait-do you know?”

He ripped his hands away from his face and stared at you with wide eyes of accusation. What does he mean by you knowing? Is there something else?

“If you say that you’re also a werewolf or something, you’re going to have to answer a thousand more questions tonight,” you half heartedly jokes. By the way he rolled his eyes at that statement, you concluded that he was not a werewolf. So, what else is he hiding?

“No, I thought you figured out that I liked y-y-y-yams,” he stuttered for a little before sputtering out the last word. A panic smiled rise onto his face as he stared at the wall behind you intensely.

“Taoi, you hate yams,” you stated blinking slowly at him. He always stuck his tongue out at yams when you pass by them during shopping.

“I know,” he said with a monotone voice. “Anyway, I’m going to go home now. Bye.” He quickly floated out of the room leaving you there confused. This is what you meant. No matter what form he is in, Taoi is still your Taoi.

Yours?

You walked into the apartment later that night with a big headache banging in your head. You got an ear full from your boss after the meeting and she decided to give you a punishment where you had to print off all your electronic documents and filed them away. It was a year’s worth of stuff.

“You’re home,” Taoi squealed floating through his bedroom door. He took one look at your face and froze. “Ah, I guess I should let you get use to the ghost stuff.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just tired from work,” you grumbled throwing yourself on the couch. You left your bag beside the door and didn’t plan on getting it any time soon.

“Okay, so you need cuddles is what I’m hearing.” You responded with a high pitch groan that you knew he would translate to yes.

A strange coolness encased your body causing a shiver to go down your body. Taoi’s arms went under your knees and on your lower back and he lifted you off the couch. He plopped down on the couch and put you on top of him.

“Now, tell me what happen. What did that old witch do to you?” he chimed petting the top of your head. You relaxed into him more and wrapped your arms around him.

So you laid there in the cool embrace of your roommate as you ranted about what unfolded after Taoi flew out of your office. The entire time he comforted you and tighten his embraced when he could tell that you were really getting worked up.

“What I am hearing is that this woman needs some special visit from your ghost roommate tonight,” he deadpanned. You let out a snort and shake your head at that. “What? It worked for Scrooge, maybe she needs it too.”

“No, you need to rest. You’re insomnia-” you stopped as you realized something and from the giggles underneath you, Taoi knew. “You don’t have insomnia because you don’t need to sleep.”

He started laughing at your shocked tone. You turned your head to look at him. His black eyes shined with humor at your coming with christ.

“I guess it’s a question and answer time,” he sung out scooting up on the couch. You fold your arms on top of his chest to get a better angle to look at.

“How about this?” He said drumming his fingers on your back. You had to fight against the desire to melt at the feeling. “I’ll summarize a bit and then if you have questions afterwards, you can fire them off.” You nodded your head and prepared yourself to inhale as much information as possible.

“So, first thing first, I really don’t remember much from my previous life. I think I was born somewhere during the 16th century. I think some time around October, I remember it being kind of cool, I guess. But my memory really kicks in around 300 years ago,” you let out a choked gasp at how old he is, “ Yeah I know I’m ancient. It didn’t take me long to realize I was a ghost. I mean floating around, looking like a demonic skeletons human, and doing all this weird paranormal stuff made it quite easy to realize. I stayed hidden for a good part of those 200 years, only really moving around when it was dark. Around the 190ish year, I realized I could alter my physical appearance if I thought hard about it. With lots of practice, I got pretty dang good at it and started interacting with humans. One day, a human tried to hug me and went straight through me. I played it off like I moved out of the way, but they didn’t trust me afterwards. Because of that incident, I had to leave that area and moved around them. I worked on making my body more physical, so that people won’t phase through me, it feels weird for me. And in the last 50 years, I got close to an old lady who stayed here. She figured out I was a ghost right on the spot, said something about seeing spiritual energy or something. I still have a theory that she’s a witch, but she’s gone now so…” You eyes widen and he looked down confused for a second before stuttering out no while waving his hands.

“Not like that. She left with her spouse to live in Iceland. She gave me the house and told me to do whatever with it. Decided to do a roommate thing and one thing led to another and we’re here.”

You stared at him for a second before giggling a little. He looked down at you with a singular raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, for a second I thought you were going to say that you went ghost mode on the woman and haunted her to death,” you said giggling. You twirled your fingers around the laces in his hoodies. His black eyes soften as an amused smile came onto his face. “But then I remember that it’s you, Taoi, and you can barely bump into someone without screaming out apologies.”

He rolled his eyes, but the pink blush coming onto his skin told you he was still affected by your words. He shifted underneath you and scooted up a little more. You shifted with him and moved yourself so you were more sitting on his lap.

“For the first question,” you said moving the conversation forward,“ how does to feel to be a ghost?”

He tilted his head to the left in confusion from your words. Dark brown curls tumbled over each other due to the shift of gravity. You really want to run your hand through his hair.

“Well, it’s kind of like TV static or similar to when your limbs fall asleep. Now imagine that, but for your entire body, everyday,” he explain sticking his arms out for you to look at. You poke his icy cold skin and looked at him for a reaction. “Kind of feels like ripple of numbness when you touch me. But it still feels nice because it some sort of feeling.”

You grabbed his arm and started running your fingers up and down it. You wondered what it would feel like to be completely numb the entire time. Can Taoi even feel the different type of emotion you put into your touches?

“Second question, how am I able to touch you right now instead of falling through,” you pointed out going as far to poke his arm a little harder. He let out a small laugh at the motion.

“I think about being solid. It’s kind of like if ice had a chance to choose what state of matter it wants to be in. So right now, I want to be in a solid state. And when I don’t want to, I can go to 'liquid’ where I’m still seeable, but just not touchable. For the final state, 'gas’, I’m literally just like this fog or whatever and just occupy an area. I an unable to be seen or touched.”

You nodded your head along in understandment. The first two made sense, but him just turning into a fog would be extremely weird. Wouldn’t he just-

“So you were the one in my bedroom this morning!” You screamed slapping his side. He let out a laugh as you playful slapped his arm. “I was tired.”

“Yeah, but you needed to get up for work. I thought if I get you up on time, you could actually eat breakfast,” he whined gripping you tighter. You felt bad that you were making him worried.

Taoi knew that you sometimes missed lunch due to your boss still trying to work you through it and most days you came home too tired to even consider diner. You really need to take care of yourself, at least for Taoi’s sake.

“I’ll promise you I will start eating breakfast,” you whispered. You lifted your hand and slowly embedded your fingers into his brown curls. His vantablack eyes shimmer under the fluorescent lights as he looked down at you. “Thank you so much for caring about me. I don’t think I can imagine my life without you in it.”

A light peach colour blush spread up his neck, but he maintained eye contact. “I feel truly alive when I’m with you. I can’t- I don’t think I can live without someone like you in my life.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on yours. His skin felt so cool on yours, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You have gained access into my heart and taught me what it is to live. I know I don’t have any internal organs, but when I’m around you, these butterflies flood my senses and all I can focus on is you. I know this may be the worst time to say this since you just found out today that I’m dead and this may be crossing boundaries. I mean, it will cross boundaries-”

You lean in closer to him until your noses was touching. Taoi’s sentence was cut off as his eyes dropped down to the little distance was between you two.

The peach blush turned into a dark red colour that painted his entire face. His lips moved around as he tried to form a word but failed.

“You know you look so adorable sometimes that I could kiss you,” you whispered staring deep into his eyes. Forget the boundaries that you have been trying to hide behind. Life is about taking risk and you haven’t been taking any.

“Ki-kiss me,” he stammered out shrinking down as the blush intensified. He glanced at you before looking down at his arm that was still around your waist. “Well, I- sometimes I want to ki-ki-kis kiss you too.”

Maybe you were just delusional from being exhausted from work or maybe you got a huge shot of adrenaline from his confession to, but you gained enough guts to grab the front of his hoodie and yanked his face forward until your lips were less than a hair away. His cool breath brushed against yours before stopping for a moment.

“What’s stopping you?”

Taoi’s eyes widen in shock at your boldness. For a split second, he looked confused on what to do before determination filled his black eyes.

He closed his eyes and went to close that small distance between you guys. You were about to kiss Taoi, the sweetest and kindest roommate in the world, who you thought maybe was out of your league.

You jumped at the feeling of something vibrating. Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled out your phone to see that 'Female Satan’ was calling. You glanced at Taoi to see his face confused and irritated.

“Hel-”

“I can’t even express how disappointed I am in you. I went to check on your work before I left because all today you have been inadequate. And as I was checking, I noticed you only had folders for 11 months. I had to tear apart every single folder and realized you put two February. Since you made me waste my time finding your mistake, I want you to come back right now and fix all of these right now.”

You froze up as you listen to her yell at you. That took you six hours to complete. You can’t complete this by tonight at all. You will have to pull an all nighter at work just to catch up.

“Fuck it,” Taoi growled snatching the phone out of your hand. You blinked away the tears you didn’t know had showed up. Black veins were running across Taoi’s face as a ferocious sneer was boiling on his face.

The cold surface beneath you disappeared and the plush sofa was pressed into you. You looked around confused at Taoi’s sudden disappearance. He just cussed. Taoi never cusses unless someone or something really pushes him.

Before you could begin to panic, a cold sensation surrounded you and lift you into the air. Taoi phased through the door with a giant smile on his face. His hair was floating like an ominous halo around him and the black veins were extremely prominent on his see through skin.

“Taoi, where did you go?” You yelled rotating in the air to look at him. He gave you a brighter smile that twinkled brightly.

“Just gave your boss a small little visit,” he hummed skipping through the air towards you. He jumped up and slowly floated down onto the couch. He reached into the air and wrapped his arms around you. The cold sensation disappeared and you were plopped into his lap.

“What-what did you do?” You asked but he just smiled at you. He pulled you closer and snuggled into you. “Taoi, what did-”

You phone vibrated again and by Taoi’s happy giggles, you were instantly concerned. Glancing at his joyous smile, you pulled out your phone and saw 'Female Satan’ calling.

“Hel-”

“I am so sorry for the way I have been treating you. I am ashamed of everything I have done to you. You deserve a vacation. Yes, yes. You can take the next week off. I’ll do you work. That-that’s a nice deed right! I can’t go to hell!”

The phone call was abruptly ended and you stared in confusion at the screen. What? What just happened?

“So what I am hearing is that you have plenty of time to take care of yourself and get away from that toxic job,” Taoi whispered rubbing the top of your head. You laid there as the shock slowly settled in.

You have never had a day off before. Everytime you tried to apply for a day off, she would say no because work is too important for you to be missing. But here you are with a full week off from work.

“Taoi,” you squealed wrapping your arms around him. Laughter poured out of him as you tighten your embrace him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“You deserve to be treated like an Emperor. Anything that makes you sad or distress, i will be there to fix it,” he mumbled into you neck as you held him. You loosen your grip on him and his forehead instantly seek yours out.

“Taoi,” you whispered staring deeply into his black eyes. “You’re too good. I wish there was a way to thank you.”

His eyes glanced down for a split second before a small smirk came onto his face. “I can think of one thing. My lips are pretty cold from outside. Think you can warm them up?”

Warmth spread up your neck and was slowly conquering your face. Who would have thought you would end up in the arms of your best friend, who turns out to be this ghost. Life can be crazy with all of these changes, but this one, this change was definitely going to be good.

“I would be happy to help you with that.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

First off, I don’t know if this is considered a monster in this community, but I just wanted to get a story out. I know I haven’t been active and I just want to apologize for that. I’ll try to get my act together and get more content out for you guys. Like always, please Comment. It makes my day every time I get a notification that someone commented. It can be over anything and I will love it. Also, please remember to Like any work of mines that you like, so I can get a feel on what type of content you guys like. I’m thinking on a part 2 for this, but I’m not sure, going to base it off how well this do. Thank you guys for everything and helping me continue this passion of writing. You can message me any questions you may have for my OCs or about me. I’m open to any interaction. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Thank you once again.

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veinsandknuckles · 3 years

Text

Break the cutie, pt 1

Ruben Patterson/f!Reader (Shootfighter: Fight to the Death) Explicit Content warnings: bdsm, hair pulling (with the assumption that the reader has long enough hair to make that possible), rough, unsafe sex... everything’s consensual but the powerless position the reader ends up in (and enjoys) might be upsetting to some. lmk if I missed anything. It’s not very kinky yet, I’m planning to take my time with the descent. Thank you @kingkarate for beta reading, concrit-ing and encouraging this! I owe you one <3 On the surface, Ruben seems like the gentlest, kindest red-blooded man you could hope to date but you have a hunch there’s a playful, rough, slightly selfish side of him that you’re determined to draw out. Ruben is perfectly willing to let you open that door, but whether he’ll be able to shut it again is another story. (Basically, the gimmick is this: what if his road to ruin began with sex instead of violence?)

“Here we are.” You stepped lightly onto the veranda and turned to watch Ruben.

His eyes glittered under the porch light and he smiled up at you. “I really hope you had a good time tonight. I know I did.”

“Of course. You really know how to treat a lady.”

“Well, I do my best...”

This was the moment for him to kiss you goodnight or ask to come in. You’d had two dates already, you’d given him every encouragement but he hesitated. It wasn’t strange - his and Cheryl’s engagement had only ended a few months ago and she’d been his childhood sweetheart. Maybe most men in his position would’ve been on the rebound by now, but the more you got to know Ruben, the more you started to believe he really was as good as he seemed.

He stepped in close, shook his hair out of his eyes and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. Tonight, he didn’t pull away immediately, not even when you let your lips part and teased his tongue with yours. He let his hands rest on your hips and sighed into your mouth, then broke away with a shy little laugh , just as it was getting good.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t get carried away.”

“No, I... I kinda wish you would.”

“Right.” It didn’t look as if he believed you.

“I don’t want to scandalize you, Ruben, but I mean it. If you want to come in for a cup of coffee or something, all you have to do is ask.”

“On the second date?”

“It can be a literal cup of coffee, you know. Nothing has to happen.”

“Uh... yeah, alright.” He deliberated for a moment and then smiled. “As long as you’re sure.”

You laughed and fished out your keys. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Why? Not every man is a dog.”

As you led him into the house, turned on the lights and shrugged out of your coat, you couldn’t stop yourself from silently wishing he was wrong, at least in this instance. Could he really not see how gorgeous he was? Or did he believe all that bullshit about women not having a real sex drive? “I’m not so sure. You may very well be the only exception.”

“Oh shit, sorry to hear that.” The look on his face was completely sincere. “You must’ve dated some real jerks.”

“Hmm. Maybe. But making a move wouldn’t mean you’re one of them.” You took his hand and led him into the sitting room, then ducked into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of wine and two glasses. “It’s not as if I’d mind it.”

Ruben accepted the drink gratefully, took a sip and sat down on the sofa, watching the light as it reflected off the glass. “I just, I... It’s not that I don’t want to. But after everything with Cheryl...” He trailed off with a vague gesture and looked so uncomfortable, you felt like kicking yourself.

“The last thing I want is to make you feel like there’s any pressure to-”

“No.” He looked up at you again, then took another deep drink. “No, I’m ready to move on. But, uh... we met when we were both really young.”

“I know.”

“And... I haven’t really been with anyone else.”

You smiled. This was easier territory. Somewhere deep and dark inside you, something stirred... he was so sweet, he seemed so innocent despite his experience and from what you’d pieced together, it sounded like the two of them had been the clean, wholesome romantic American ideal come to life.

There was a whole world out there and you could be the one to show him. If he wanted you to, of course.

God, you hoped he wanted you to. “That’s the opposite of a problem, Ruben. It’s sweet.”

“Yeah?” He set his drink down and slowly moved in close, gently, as if he worried he might startle you if he didn’t take every care.

You met him in another kiss. This time, he slipped his tongue in without waiting and pulled you to him to feel you close, with his hand running up your side and his pretty hair tickling your forehead. It was clear he had habits in how he moved and rather than taking the lead, you let yourself be soft and yield to him.

Even though he made you moan and you shifted in your seat to give him access, he didn’t press further. You put your hands to his chest and slipped them up to hold on to his shoulders and soon you heard him gasp. When he pulled away you saw lust written all over his face and heard his breath coming faster, and still he seemed nowhere closer to going beyond kisses.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

God, the idea of making out on the couch all evening like a pair of teenagers was absolute torture. Getting hot and heavy was one thing, but with the way he made you feel already if it didn’t build to any sort of release it might be less painful to just end it here.

“So are you.” You pulled the hem of his t-shirt between your fingers. “I bet you’re gorgeous all over...”

Ruben swallowed, hard, then tugged his shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor.

You gasped. Forget your idle daydreams - he really did have the chest, shoulders and stomach of some sort of god. If he was shy, it wasn’t because he had any doubts about his appearance; his smile convinced you of that.

Well, you couldn’t let yourself fall behind. With slightly shaky hands, you reached around your back and unzipped your dress, too eager to feel self conscious.

“You don’t have to,” Ruben insisted but the look in his eyes betrayed how much he hoped you would.

This mutual, misplaced concern could get in the way all night, no matter how much you both wanted this. “How about we agree that if either of us wants to slow things down or stop, we just say so? That way we can skip past all this second guessing.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” His voice was so affected it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then...” you held up your dress with the front pressed to your chest and considered your options. “You grab the wine and let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Ruben followed close behind you, shut the door and didn’t wait before helping you out of your dress. He watched you strip down the rest of the way in mute wonder and if he’d ever made you worry if his mind was on his ex, that ended now. Still, even though he felt achingly hard when he pulled you in for another kiss, even though he couldn’t tear his eyes from you, he undressed slowly and laid you down on the bed with such care.

Not every man liked it hard and fast, you knew that, but this was different... it was as if he’d made love a thousand times but had never even thought about fucking.

He didn’t try to hide that he was eager. When you reached for him, he moved into your touch and when you stroked and kissed him, he sighed out loud. There was nothing stoic about him, he just kept himself firmly in control and that was the very last thing you wanted. When he lay beside you and started kissing his way down your stomach, your patience finally wore out.

“Please, Ruben... I want you.”

He smiled. “I want you, too.”

It was one thing if your interests differed, but another thing entirely if he didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand what you meant. “I want you inside me, already. I want you to fuck me.”

His smile faded a little. “Am I going too slow? I just want to please you...”

You’d both promised to say if anything went too far. “You want to please me?”

“Of course.” The look on his face was so open, so sweet and pure.

It was wrong, but it only made you want to ruin him quicker.

“Then don’t hold back, just hold me down and fuck me.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked as if he was starting to blush. His voice was a little rough as he forced himself to respond. “I-I really like you, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

God, this was wrong. Which was a ridiculous thing to think - he was twenty eight years old, he was in no way a virgin and it wasn’t as if you were trying to force him into doing something he didn’t want. He’d promised to tell you if he wanted to stop. But it felt wrong because you wanted to break him and you didn’t want it to feel right. “Not even if I like it?”

Ruben gasped as if he’d been hit in the gut. His eyes darted across your features, searching for a clue to whether or not you’d meant it. Now he was tense, his confidence seemed to have vanished, but there was no way for him to hide it - the thought turned him on. After an agonizing pause, he whispered, “how?”

Wordlessly, you reached for him and he crawled up until his face hovered above yours. The hunger in his eyes was blended with conflict and shame and you felt your cunt tighten and something foul twisting in your gut. He let you guide his hand to your hair, he held on to it and when you nudged his grip, he took the hint and pulled. He pulled hard and watched as you twisted to follow the movement, then pulled harder.

You moaned and let your eyes roll back. If you thought you’d been wet before...

Ruben eased off. “...You really do like it.”

It wasn’t a question, even though he sounded like he couldn’t believe it - he could see how your legs fell apart wider and how your spine arched.

“Yeah, I do,” you whispered and looked up at him, making sure he knew that if there was any doubt, it was his alone. “I-I’ve fantasised about you, like this... getting you so hard you can’t help yourself, you shoving me into some dark corner and just ripping my clothes off and taking me.”

He made a noise like something between a sob and a moan. His lips parted and his shoulders tensed - you could almost see how he strained against his self-control . Before it’d been a matter of course, now it was a struggle. “This is so wrong,” he managed, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Maybe.” You tried to keep your smile playful and worried that it just looked mean. “But it doesn’t seem like you mind that part.”

Ruben had told you himself one of the first times you’d talked that he trusted too easily. Maybe that’s what he fell back on now - whatever his justifications, he resumed his grip and, before you had the chance to steel yourself, yanked your head by your hair in the other direction and kept pulling so far you had to follow with your whole torso.

You kept your attention fixed on him while he forced you to cry out. It looked as if something in him snapped when he heard it.

His breathing quickened and his lips twisted into almost a smile. There was danger now, sooner than you could have hoped. You thought you’d wanted him before but now it felt as if you couldn’t go another second without feeling him inside you. He kept his gaze on you - you couldn’t tell whether it was to make sure you were alright or to drink in the look of pain and pleasure blended on your face - then reached down with his free hand to force your knees even further apart.

Ruben swallowed and for a second it seemed like he was about to ask again if you were certain. You held your breath waiting for it but he proved you’d been right about him - he didn’t even touch you to make sure you were ready, just rubbed the head of his cock against your soaking cunt until he’d lined himself up, then forced himself inside you, all the way, with one rough push.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, but it wasn’t enough for him. His grip on your hair tightened and his other hand pulled up your knee, too rough and strong for you to deny him access, and pinned you there with half his weight on his arm.

“How does it feel?” he whispered. A voice that soft had no right to sound so menacing.

“God, Ruben... it feels perfect.”

He pulled out slowly, then snapped his hips and buried himself back in so hard it hurt. You made sure to let him hear it and Ruben smiled, shocked and exhilarated.

“Oh yeah? What feels perfect?”

“When... when you fuck me like this.” You might not need to talk him into this any further, but the fire was lit and you wanted to stoke it. “When you’re rough with me...”

“Isn’t it painful?” And he twisted his grip in your hair again until it felt like he might pull it out by the roots.

“Ow, please! Yes, yes it’s painful...”

“God...” His pace was settled now, hard and fast, especially when he gave you those last couple of inches and sent the headboard bouncing off the wall. “You look even more beautiful when you’re hurting.”

“Just... don’t stop, Ruben, please don’t stop...”

He let go of your hair, ran his hand up along your side, caught one of your nipples between his fingers and with his eyes locked on yours, tweaked it roughly until you sobbed.

“Why would I? You’re giving me everything I want.”

When he shut his eyes and lost himself in the moment, you watched him carefully for any lingering doubts and found none. With your leg up and your knee almost pressed against your chest, he could bottom out fully with each thrust and really, you should have warmed up a little more before taking him so deeply. You were sure he knew that.

Just to test him, you tried to push your thigh against his arm to ease his pressure. As soon as he noticed, his eyes met yours again and he tested you right back by shoving it back down even further than before. You gasped out and he smiled.

You felt your wetness trickling down to your ass and whined in embarrassment, “oh, god...!”

“You asked for it.”

It’d never crossed your mind that things might actually go this far the very first time you slept together and so you hadn’t worried, at least any more than you usually would, about the fact that he was so much stronger than you and there was no one in the house tonight besides the two of you. In the short time you’d known him, he’d never said or done a thing to make you doubt him but even if you’d waited longer, there was never really any way to truly know what any person was capable of. Right up to the moment they showed you.

You felt a shiver rush through you and it had nothing to do with the feeling of his body against yours. You’d hoped Ruben had it in him to cut loose and live a little but you couldn’t tell anymore if he was rough with you and loved the way you loved it, or if you loving it was nothing more than a bonus. Seeing him now, the way he looked at and past you, the way he ignored how you moved under him, you realised you had no idea what he was capable of, and worse, neither had he.

The smart thing to do would be to ask him to stop, just to make sure he’d listen, but the bigger part of you didn’t want to. He’d never looked more perfect to you and knowing you’d broken his resolve like this was exhilarating. Figuring out what that said about you could wait.

“Oh god... I need you to keep fucking me like this.” You reached for him and ran your hands across his shoulders, wanting him closer. He didn’t seem to even register your touch but the desperation in your voice made him shiver.

“I guess... I guess you’d better beg me, then.”

Jesus.

“Please, Ruben...”

He actually laughed and somehow found the willpower to slow down. “Try again.”

“Please, I need your cock in me, I want you so badly...”

Ruben just smiled, deceptively sweetly. He’d taken to this quicker than you’d dared hope and the cold glint in his pretty eyes made you feel almost shy.

You took a deep breath and tried again.

“Just take me, fuck me... I promise I’ll do anything.”

“Mmh...” He pushed back inside you, so achingly slow it was almost worse than if he’d stopped altogether. “Anything? You need it that bad?”

“Of course.” You swallowed. God, he’d better hold you to it. “You’re perfect, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” All you wanted was to know everything he pictured when you said that, every wrong and selfish fantasy he’d ever tried to ignore, everything he’d refused to admit he wanted, even to himself. “Please take me, I’ll be good... I’ll let you fuck me raw, fuck my throat, any time you like... I’ll swallow it all...”

Ruben groaned out loud and rested his forehead against your shoulder. “...You’re filthy.”

And still he barely moved. It wasn’t enough - it wasn’t fair that he still held back after all that. Without thinking it through, you ground down on him just to get the slightest bit of friction, anything.

Ruben lifted himself up onto one elbow and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that.”

His look chilled you.

“I’m sorry...”

“Are you gonna behave?”

That was a tough decision. The thought of him restraining you, or punishing you, was enough to make your cunt tighten around him and your heart skip a beat, but it would mean an even longer wait before he fucked you properly. Besides, it was a little soon to play it like that. It was hard to read him now; he might very well lose his nerve.

You kept your voice sweet and soft when you replied, “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped.

“I want to be a good girl for you, please let me. Let me take it for you...”

“Yeah, you’re gonna take it.” Ruben pulled away from you, lifted you and flipped you over, then pulled you towards him by your waist until he had your ass in the air and your face buried among the pillows. You barely found your bearing before he pushed inside you again. One of his hands held on to your hip, almost hard enough to bruise, as if you’d ever try to move away from his rough, ruthless thrusts.

The other gripped your hair again and yanked your head back so far you had to arch your spine as much as it would let you and even then it was difficult for you to breathe. Every time his hips slapped against your ass, the head of his dick pushed painfully against your cervix and the discomfort and pleasure blended together, both getting so intense it made you feel almost sick. You needed relief and Ruben didn’t object or slow his pace when you reached up between your legs to tease your clit with your fingers. Perhaps he didn’t even notice.

“You like that?” he growled, as if your yelps and moans and pleading wasn’t proof enough.

“It’s-it’s so good... it feels so good...”

“And you’re gonna take it like this for me again?”

“Oh, any time you ask, ah-any way you want it...”

“You’re... you’re gonna regret saying that.” His rhythm was getting erratic. You wanted to pull him even further down into the dirt and keep him there as he came...

“I could never, Ruben... all I want is for you to use me.”

Your words made him whimper. He pushed all the way inside you, his fingers dug deep into your flesh and you felt his hot come fill your cunt.

He shuddered, gave one last push and held still until his orgasm was fully spent. Then with a soft sigh, he finally withdrew, let go of you and sank back exhausted onto the bed.

As soon as you could find a bit of strength you rolled over and turned towards him.

The pleasure was slowly fading from his expression and shock crept in to take its place. With every deep breath, he seemed to regain more of his senses and you couldn’t have seen his guilt more clearly if you’d been able to read his mind. You reached for him, but he pulled away with a hand pressed to his mouth.

“What did I...”

“Ruben, it’s alright.” You moved closer again but as you did, you brought your side into view and his eyes widened and started to glitter at the sight of the bruises he’d left on your hip.

“Oh, god. I’m-I’m so sorry...”

“I told you I wanted this, we both wanted this -”

As soon as you said it, you wished you hadn’t.

“You’re right, I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t care.” He drew away now as if he couldn’t move fast enough and scrambled to pull his pants back on. “I... there’s gotta be something wrong with me. I have to go, I shouldn’t be here.”

It was pointless to try to talk him into staying and you reluctantly gave him room and stopped protesting. You hadn’t expected such a strong reaction but now it was here and you couldn’t help him through it. He turned from you, but not before you’d seen a tear spill out and tumble down his cheek.

“Of course you should go if you need to be alone. But Ruben...”

He forced himself to meet your gaze.

“I don’t regret it.”

He nodded. “It’s fine, I just need to think.” When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment. “I’ll call you, alright?”

“I hope you do .”

With one more nod, he shut the door and padded down the stairs. Before you’d even caught your breath, he was gone.

#shootfighter #shootfighter: fight to the death #ruben patterson #billy zabka imagines #billy zabka #my fics

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