#but seeing the world so different together..
Text
Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader
Ao3 Link
Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans
WC: 18k
Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.
Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?
"I don't have one."
"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.
"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.
"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.
"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.
"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.
"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.
"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."
Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.
"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.
"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.
"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.
"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.
"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.
"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.
"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.
"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.
"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.
"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.
"Told you so."
You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."
"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."
It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.
"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."
"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.
"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"
"Isn't this illegal?"
"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.
"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.
"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.
Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."
"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"
"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."
"What?"
"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."
Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.
"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.
"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.
"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.
"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"
"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.
"Yeah?"
"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.
"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."
A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.
You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.
"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.
"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.
"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"
"I'm not."
"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"
"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.
"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.
"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"
"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.
The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."
He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."
"Good."
"Simon?"
The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.
"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.
"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.
Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.
"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."
You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."
"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."
You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."
"And my dad?"
"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.
You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.
You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.
"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.
"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.
The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.
Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.
You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.
Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."
You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."
You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.
"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"
"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."
Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"
"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."
"That's not true."
"I think it is."
Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.
"Of course."
You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.
Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."
"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.
"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."
You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.
You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.
The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.
"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.
"Then lets go."
You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.
When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."
"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."
"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.
You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.
It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.
Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.
It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.
You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."
You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.
Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.
You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.
The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.
It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.
That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.
No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.
The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”
“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.
“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.
“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.
“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.
The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”
The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.
“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”
“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.
“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.
“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.
“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”
The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.
“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”
“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”
“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.
Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.
You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.
That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.
“I didn’t want to lose.”
“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”
“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?
“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.
“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”
“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.
You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”
“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.
At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.
He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”
“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.
Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.
“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”
“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”
“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”
“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”
“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”
“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.
“They gave him a hard time too.”
“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?
Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.
He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.
“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”
“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.
“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”
Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.
Who are you Ghost?
”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”
You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.
“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.
“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”
”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.
“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.
”What are you? My aunt?”
”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.
”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.
”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.
You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.
Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.
He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.
Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.
You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”
You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.
��Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.
”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.
”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”
”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”
”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”
”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”
”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.
Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.
It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.
He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.
You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.
You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.
You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.
You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.
Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.
When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”
”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.
”Need to know.”
”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.
”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”
”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.
”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”
”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”
”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.
”What?”
”Forget about it.”
”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”
”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs
”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.
He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.
Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.
”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.
”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”
”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”
”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”
”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“
”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”
”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.
”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.
That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.
He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.
And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.
Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.
The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.
Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.
The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.
He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.
The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.
You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.
You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”
”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.
“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms
Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.
It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.
He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.
He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.
Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.
When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.
He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.
”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.
You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.
Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.
He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.
”Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.
He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.
His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.
”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.
He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.
Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.
“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.
You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.
”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.
It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.
It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.
He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.
He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.
“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.
You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.
”I love you.”
Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”
It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.
”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.
”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.
”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”
”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.
”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.
”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.
Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.
God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.
”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.
You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon
”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.
”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.
”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.
”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.
You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.
He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”
”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”
You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”
”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.
”I love you so much Simon Riley.”
His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#mw2 smut#ghost smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader smut#simon x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod
408 notes
·
View notes
Text
(TW injury description)
I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!
Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.
During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.
The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.
Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!
And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!
Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!
After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”
Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!
But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!
#I love love love this man sm he’s just described as this ray of sunshine!!#I want to put him in my pocket#And the story of him and his wife like actually kill me that is so cute#I’m so happy he was able to live a full life#Also yeah lads he is so fine ngl when I saw him in that book I was like WOW#he has such gorgeous eyes and I love his nose#and his smile#wwi#world war 1#sidney beldam#history#wwi medicine#injury tw#medical tw#long post
214 notes
·
View notes
Text
Azriel had his shadows since he was a little tiny boy, locked away in a small room with no windows, feeling unloved and uncared for.
The shadows were not a part of his trauma, they actually may have been one of the reasons he survived through his trauma.
They are his company, his little spies, a literal manifestation of his powers and honestly, very loveable little beings. The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of Azriel is that he is a Shadowsinger.
AND Y'ALL WANT THESE SHADOWS TO DISAPPEAR?
Let me tell you something: That's exactly why I don't ship e/riel. Because, if they were to truly be happy together, someone (or both) would have to give up in such essential parts of themselves that they wouldn't be the same person.
Elain would have to give up on traveling around the world and planting gardens everywhere. She would have to give up on glamorous parties because her partner is an introvert and terrifies everyone in Prithyan except his family and the people who want to fuck him (I'm looking at you Helion). She would not live somewhere sunny all the time and take walks in the nature.
Azriel? Apparently, he has to give up his shadows. He will have to hide the darkest parts of himself, not because Elain can't deal with it, but because he is clearly extra-self conscious and ashamed of those parts around her. He would forever feel afraid of "tainting" her or scaring her away, because he clearly doesn't consider her someone capable of dealing with darkness. He would have to give up on having a mate.
IN ORDER OF THIS SHIP TO WORK, THEY NEED TO BE DIFFERENT CHARACTERS.
Spoiler ahead: these characters already exist.
I don't ship Gwynriel and Elucien because I'm anti-elain or some other bullshit. I ship it because I love these characters and I want to see them grow without needing to become something completely different from what they are.
I don't need gentleman, well dressed Azriel because LUCIEN IS THERE.
I don't need warrior, bloodthirsty Elain because GWYN IS THERE.
Honestly, it's so very simple it hurts.
#gwyneth berdara#pro gwyneth berdara#gwyn berdara#gwynriel#gwyn acosf#pro gwynriel#azriel x gwyn#pro elucien#elucien#pro lucien#elain x lucien#pro azriel#pro elain#anti e/riel#azriel shadowsinger#okay bye
193 notes
·
View notes
Text
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Baby Fever
Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: You love watching Joel adapt to being a dad so effortlessly. You make it your mission tonight to give him another baby, whether he wants to or not.
Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, ovulating reader, dubish-con for Joel but he ain't complainin', cum eating, ball sucking, oral both male and female receiving, cowgirl / riding, missionary, rough sex, dom! reader, slight sub!Joel if you squint, mentions of condoms (wow rare one for me huh--no plz wrap it up), Daddy kink
18+ ONLY
- - - -
It’s probably the first time Joel has absolutely no care for Sunday night football. Instead, you watch with heart eyes as he lies against the opposite couch, head propped only by a pillow. He’s exhausted today. Grunting when he finally collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily as his joints ached and cracked. His eyes are puffy, near closed and fighting sleep. It’s been a restless 7 months for him just as much as you.
Meanwhile, wide eyed, giggly , and conveniently 7-month-old Sarah has become obsessed with Daddy Miller now. She sits in her diaper on Joel’s chest, watching him with admiration. A big curious smile plastered on her face as she bounces and slaps his face with her uncoordinated hands.
They’re just looking at one another, in their own world. She brings a fat bitty palm on his cheek, watching the way it smushes his whiskered skin each time she rubs. Almost about to giggle with fascination, she instead decides to adjusts herself hunched over his face. Joel chuckles with her. He makes pouty fish faces, and she bursts into laughter each time.
You watch as her little finger hooks into his mouth. “Ow!” He says softly, faking pain. She laughs again and smashes her cheek onto his scruffy beard. Sitting back again, she just looks down in awe.
Your heart could burst right now. They pay no attention to you in the room, but you could watch them all night if you could. A gentle, heartwarming thrum tugs at your chest.
This. This is what it’s all about. This is what your mom meant all those years. You would never have understood her words about family, about love, about the greatest moments of your life being the smallest, simplest ones too, like sitting in the living room together quietly.
And Joel—Joel being so incredibly perfect like this. He’s graying and his grouchy and he’s got bags under his eyes, but this moment makes him the perfect husband. The perfect father. The perfect person you could see every morning and fall in love with every time. It makes your body jittery with excitement on impulse now.
Sarah knee’s forward a little too much, her chunky knee falling onto Joel’s jugular. She laughs loudly as he chokes, his hands coming to grasp her securely from falling. Her bum scootches back on Joel’s chest as she sits up, patting his eyes affectionately. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and blows kisses to her.
The baby bares her gummy mouth and tiny teeth back. She pets his cheek gently, watching him closely. Her little eyes working over every detail, almost like she’s etching him to memory. The different colors and textures, features like the point of his knows and the crinkle of his forehead. Her big head falls forward, forehead bumping his eye again.
You laugh as Joel squints. Unfortunate for him, she props herself on a wiggly ankle and then completely launches her whole body over his face. Joel yelps from below and starts blowing air into her belly, making farting noises as she erupts into a fit of loud squeals and wiggles. The squirmy wormy fat belly keeps getting gobbled up by Joel’s playful eating. He lifts her like she weighs nothing, because truthfully she does, and sets her bum back on his chest.
Little Sarah can’t be kept away from Daddy for long, and she immediately hunches over his head again and stares into his eyes. Eventually she settles along his shoulder. She smushes her chubby smooth cheek against his rough, scratchy one. His whole head is almost the size of her, but it doesn’t both either of them. She’s so at home with him so close.
You wave to her and whisper “Wanna come to Mommy?” with open arms.
She giggles like that’s sooo fucking funny before rubbing her face on Joel’s lips to say nah uh. She sneezes once, thankfully on his beard rather than eyeballs, before tucking herself against his neck and slowly closes her eyes, falling asleep on Daddy.
A few more minutes pass until Joel can tell she’s completely out. Her body curled up like a pill bug, a bit of drool starting to creep its way into his nostrils. It’s time to put her to bed.
Joel carefully cradles her into his arms and lifts himself up from the couch. He takes his babygirl, the softest, warmest, most delicate thing he’s ever held with his callused hands, all the way down to her bedroom. His palms cupped tightly under her bum while the other caresses her back, her cheek against his collarbone as she sleeps soundly.
With utmost care and precision that he’s practiced a million times, he puts her into the crib. She lays out on her back and stretches comfortably without stirring. With his hand the size of her entire torso, he always rests it against her to feel each big inhale of air filling her belly and lungs before exhaling. Marveled that this little tiny thing alive and real, here, every day like the most miraculous thing in the cosmos, and its all because of you.
He’ll never get over it. Never go a day seeing her without thinking she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Nothing he’s ever made with his hands—not this crib or this room, that rocking chair, the bear he stitched up, nor the ceiling fan or table downstairs that he built from years steady craftsmanship—nothing will ever come close to the love and pride that fills him when he sees this little thing right here. His daughter. His babygirl. His whole life now.
He’d stay in here forever and watch her from above like some creep if he could. Instead, Joel leans down and plants a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing her curly hair before carefully sliding out of the room and cracking the door.
He’s barely pulled away from the door knob when aggressive hands yank him back and push him against the opposite wall with such force, he nearly shouts. Picture frames shudder crookedly as wet lips attach themselves to his own.
Joel’s never been pinned to a wall like this, but he’s not opposed to the way desperate, famished whimpers translate from your mouth to his, the way your tongue forces its way to glide over his teeth and tangle with his. Your hands wring the collar of his shirt in tight fists, and his back keeps getting smashed against the wall each time he tries to lean closer to you.
“W-mm-wha—mmmm-mmfff!—what are you—?“
“I want another one,” you growl. He shivers at how wracked your voice is. Beyond desperate, beyond control and savagely hungry. “Right. Now.”
He furls his brows. “W—?“ but you immediately latch yourself onto him again.
His hands gently cup right above your ass, trying to be intimately appropriate, but you have other ideas. Your palms splay on his chest as you scratch your nails down to his crotch. Immediately fisting his rapidly hardening length out of his sweatpants. Joel’s head falls back against the picture frames. He groans softly as you begin to pump him. Your tongue swipes your lips with a devilish grin, feeling him swell.
“Don’t you wanna put a baby in me?” You coo. Little nips to his lips don’t phase him, nor your words, as he slowly falls apart.
“Fuck—shit—“ he rasps. “But you just—“ he glances down to Sarah’s cracked bedroom down the hall. And how you specifically said you weren’t ready to try for another kid until Sarah was at least 3. “What has gotten into you??”
“Your seed—hopefully soon,” you smirk.
He’s struggling to keep his trail of thoughts as you spit in your hand and continue to jerk him off expertly. Despite his size, the sheer force of your conviction right now has him pinned helplessly as you kiss and fist him.
“I—“
“Cmon Daddy, don’t you wanna make me a Mommy again? Get me all knocked up and show me off, how much you like breeding me…”
Joel Miller is not a strong man. Maybe he can lug concrete and lumber all day, pull wasp stingers and blisters from his own hands, carry a pregnant woman who’s gained 50 pounds in milkshakes alone—but god he’s a weak weak man for you when you’re like this. The greatest danger of all:
“Shit, are you ovulating???”
To his horror, you nod eagerly.
You get to your knees quickly, and he sees how blown your pupils are staring up at his erect length. The little bob in your neck as you pinch the tip, licking the salty precum from your fingers.
“I don’t think this is a good—“
All his words evaporate from his mind the second you wrap your lips around his fucking balls. He grits his teeth and slams his head back against the wall, fighting the demons, particularly the one on her knees right now who’s generously sucking each one into her mouth.
With one hand pumping his cock over your forehead, your tongue swilrs and massages his sack. Suckling and releasing them with a pop before transferring to the other.
He covers his mouth with a slap.
Christ, you’re literally prepping them. Getting his seed ready and raring for your eggs to accept with loving arms.
You cup them in your warm hands, continuing their massage as your mouth engulfs his dick. bobbing your head obscenely, you take his tip to the back of your throat. The pressure on his mouth tightens from the whine burrowed in his throat when his tip nudges your esophagus like its nothing, squeezing around him before pulling away again in the tight heat of your skilled mouth.
He can’t compete. Can’t think. Not when you’re sucking him off like the tastiest, juiciest hot wings, all meat slurped clean from the bone in a single suck.
His eyes feel hazy as you work him, gargled noises filling his hears. He wants to blow his load. Yeah, maybe that’s it. He’ll cum down your throat right now, and you won’t get any—
As if reading his thoughts, you pull off his throbbing cock. A wet string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips. You look so gorgeously sinful right now: swollen lipped and crazy eyed.
He’s in serious trouble.
Inhuman strength yanks him down the hall and into your bedroom like a leashed dog. You chunk him on the bed, his back bouncing once before you’re shoving him down, crawling over his body and pinning him like a wooden slat.
No. Bad bad bad idea.
‘Maybe…” he gulps. You don’t listen as you pull his pants all the way down to his ankles—effectively keeping them trapped around the fabric so he can’t get away. “—I should get the condom…”
Your head snaps to him with an angered snarl.
He tentatively reaches for your face, but you snatch him down and pin his hand above the bed. “Fuck your condoms,” you growl.
He nods fearfully. He prays to the horny devil, who overcomes women once a month and helps procreate the human race, to please have mercy on his wife and release her from the chokehold possession the demon has wrapped around her.
He didn’t even notice when you had striped your underwear, but your naked pussy is already slobbering atop his tip. He gasps at the warm, wet drool, thick like syrup, coating his tip. You giggle vivaciously and begin to rub it between your folds. “You ready for it, baby?” You coo. “You’re gonna give me another one, Daddy. Right. Now.”
You soften just a bit, if possible with carnivorous crave licking your tongue over your teeth. “I’ll take care of everything, just sit there and let Mommy handle the breeding.”
WeakWeakWeakWEAK fucking man, Joel Miller.
You gasp loudly as you sink down onto his pulsing length. Joel’s whole body goes taught, the veins in his neck strained so tight they may burst before his cock does.
“Ugghrrmmgmgmmmmhgggffff Fuck yeah, Shit, that’s sooooooo fucking good, Joel, Fill me up, been needing this fat cock buried in my tight pussy all fucking night. Oh my god!” You squeal, quickly bouncing up and down on him until your ass is slapping his thighs.
F-F-f-f-f-f-f-f-fuuuuucccckkkkkkk.” He daringly tilts forward to see you hungrily riding his dick back and forth, your hips working so effortlessly. Tongue lolled out with a big grin on your face.
“Fuckin love watching you be a Daddy! M’gonna take it, take your fucking cum in my fertile little cunt until I’m bursting with your baby again.”
He needs to tell you that you need to heal more first. That you’re still tired, and new as a mom, and freshly off the first child. But when he sees your tits jumping up and down with each movement, the way they’re still heavy and forever changed from the last time he knocked you up, he keeps his lips shut, except for the huffs of pleasure flowering in his body.
You’re bouncing fast for his seed. Not even god’s entire army of angles could deny this. He thinks about how your droopy tummy right now reminds him of when you were first starting to show while pregnant with Sarah, and the realization only then that you were really pregnant dawned on him. It was the period of best sex because he could still be rough with you, but admire that tiny swell that he put inside of you. Reminds him of right now, that he could do it all over again right fucking now and you’re letting him. So greedy and desperate for it, just for him to flood your womb with more cum and more babies and—
Fuck, fuck don’t cum Miller.
But the image of your swollen body again, milky fat tits and wide hips accepting him—shit no that’s making it worse!
Ok—he thinks about the 9 months straight of pure hell: your attitude, demands, yelling, crying, exhaustion. How bitchy and annoying you get, pushing him past his envelope to serve your needy wants until he’s over the edge and pins ya both right back in this exact position with him pounding the shit out of you—
He thrusts his hips up and grasps your waist. Taking over and fucking up into you because the thought of Pregnant Wife You all over again and needing to take care of you once more has him in a feral deathtrap.
You yelp as Joel flips the two of you over. Your thighs fall even further apart as he completely slots his body between them and goes to pound down on your cunt. “Oh SHIT OH FUCKYESDADDY!” You cry with a smile, arms slinging over his shoulders to hold him down close to you.
You keen, so high and dumb you’re begging for it. Legs wrapped around him securely with no room to pull out.
He grunts anomalistically, over and over again with each fast rut into you. Your fingers grip his hair tightly and pull his face next to yours. “You’re gonna fucking cum inside me,” you growl through bared teeth. He fucks you faster. Eyes so dilated, heart pressed against yours like a race.
“Fill me up baby, breed me—breedmebreed-breed-breedmeDaddy fuck oh my god yesyesyesyesYES!”
He can’t stop his hips from moving, can’t stop the delicious plunge of his angry dick into your sweet sweet tight slit. He probably looks ridiculous—knees spread so wide on the mattress to really dig each thrust deep inside, wearing only a T shirt with his ass and swollen balls hanging out and humping desperately into your mound.
He hisses through clenched teeth into your neck, cheeks puffing out with each blow. You keep encouraging him with more naughty thoughts of making him Daddy over and over and over again and any sane man would be insane right now.
He’s thought about breeding you every day since you even found out you were expecting. He mourns the loss of your pregnant glow. Joel loves you, beautiful each day, but something about seeing his wife swell with the clear evidence of his love, her own body and mind changing by the minute because of him …he wants you pregnant again. For the rest of your life. Stuffed full of his kids. Round and fertile like a goddess. Once he got a taste of you like that, no husband would ever miss the chance to do it again.
He wants it so badly, so little clarity left in him that is screaming ‘pulloutpulloutpulloutpullout’ as he pounds pounds pounds your womb. He may break his jaw from how tightly clenched he is. Nothing matters more than giving you exactly what you’re begging for.
He grunts even louder, and you tighten your legs around him even more, knowing he’s close.
“Oh fuckFUCK Yes Baby give it to me!!—FUcking cum, Daddy oh shit—oh RIGHT—RIGHT FUCKING THERE! Come inside, I know you wanna Daddy just fucking cum in my little womb, let’s make a fucking baby, knock me up right now!!”
He shouts, and fate grants him mercy at the last possible second; his cock slips out and nudges itself along your ass as he spills his load onto your slit and the bedsheets.
You shake your head and start swearing, but he’s still on top of you, whining and jerking with each pulse of seed that is just shooting like a geyser from his tip. He lets out a long moan, closing his eyes. His cock twitches a few more times before finally going empty.
He sits back just a bit, trying to even his breathing. Joel Miller has never been so overwhelmed by an orgasm before that he loses sense of where he is for a few seconds. All covered in sweat, his heart rate dangerously high from such a fantastic cum.
He hazily opens his eyes to see you scooping his cum from your ass and the mattress, dragging it up along your slit and pushing as much of his cream into as you can salvage.
“NO!” He shouts, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning them to your side. You wail out, physically squirming and trying to wiggle from his grasp. He watches you thrash madly but to no avail. Your poor cunt clenches and unclenches, his probably trying to make its way from your folds to your womb right now…
Joel quickly bends down, hands still firmly on your wrists, and puts his mouth on your cunt. You gasp out, strained and pathetic, as he begins to suck out of his seed from your slit. For good measures, he licks it from your crack and ass too, everything rapidly being scooped by his talented tongue gulped down his throat, away from your dangerous eggs.
Your heels come up along his back and press down hard. He shouts into your cunt when you cum. Clit twitching like a heartbeat while your much needed orgasm rolls through you. Your walls clench so tightly around nothing, you can’t help but whimper at the loss despite shaking through the euphoria for so long. Joel does what he can, working his tongue through it all until your sounds get softer, more satisfied.
“Euughh—salty,” he says with a shiver, wiping his lips clean of all his and your cum. You both pant together with the last ebb of your orgasms settling.
“You alright, babe?”
Tears begin to well in your eyes. Lips trembling with a pathetic mewl spilling past your lips.
It takes 3 seconds of Joel hugging you close before feels you begin to hump his thighs.
“Honey—Honey please don’t cry, its just—you get this way when you’re ovulating, and ya’d be mad at me if I actually did breed you—“
You nod solemnly despite wiping your tears and burning your face into your hands. No he’s right. you weren’t thinking straight. So horny and desperate to be filled, you didn’t think anything through it. Just needed him balls deep emptying every bit of sperm into you like you were made for nothing else.
“Oh—oh no—“
Joel snatches your arms and throws you off him. He quickly snatches his pants and runs out the door, closing it behind him. You slam against the frame and shout, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING COCK, MILLER!”
You nuzzle your face into his shirt and inhale, getting yourself high on his scent while your slick pussy does a number on him. Your smooth, seductive, temptress voice nearly lulls him under your spell again: “Fuck—fuck Daddy—can we do it one more time—please?My pussy—she’s so—nnnmm—feels so empty…I’ll—ugghhhhhh oo ff-ff—fuuccckkk—I’ll let you—ah—haaa!—pull out—“
He yanks back. “THE HELL YOU WILL.”
He holds the knob tight despite its aggressive rattling. Joel quickly ties his sweatpants legs from the door handle to the hallway guard rail, stretched to keep them at odds and effectively locking you in.
“Not till you behave!”
He hears you go quiet for a moment before you erupt into a long wail like a baby. At the same time, poor little Sarah can’t handle all this raucous, awakening from her sleep and crying through the cracked bedroom.
Joel wipes his face, knowing he’s done the right thing. But now at the cost of an irritated baby that’s gonna make him carry her all night, he’s reconsidering having just pumped you full in the first place and calling it a day.
- - - -
Taglist:
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou fic#joel tlou#tlou smut#the last of us fluff#the last of us fic#last of us fic#the last of us smut#Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife#joel and sarah
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
Set The World On Fire
Chapter Fourteen
Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.
He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger
Warnings: Stalking
Mafia AU
1.5K
Series Masterlist
"Happy birthday, Stinky."
Lando opened his eyes and let out a groan. It was far too early. He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the pillow.
A hand was in his hair, brushing through his curls. "Oh, you're so cute," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Lacing her fingers through his own, she tried to pull him up. "C'mon, birthday boy. I made breakfast."
The promise of food was what coaxed him out of bed. As he stood, she threw a pair of pants at him, covering up his nakedness.
The moment she opened the bedroom door, the smell hit him. It was so damn sweet. Pancakes, waffles, French toast. It was a kids dream. "Holy fuck," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Baby, what time did you get up?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter," she said as she turned back to the stove, where more was cooking. Holy shit, he was gonna be double his body weight by the time his birthday was over.
Lando strode over to her. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't have to do all of this, baby," he whispered against her skin.
There was a moment of hesitation before she answered him. "I... this isn't like your normal birthdays, I'm sure. I still wanted to make it special."
He kissed her shoulder again. "You already have."
There was no hiding the smile she wore as she placed the newest batch of pancakes (American style this time) on the table. "Eat up," she said as she placed the pan in the sink. "I'll bring takeout home tonight, yeah?"
French toast halfway to his mouth, Lando paused. "Huh?" He asked, mouth still open, ready to take a bite. But then he put the toast back down. "What? It's my birthday," he said. "You can't leave on my birthday. That's the birthday boy's rules."
"Well, birthday boy," she began as she walked past him. "I've got work. Unless you wanna live in a cardboard box in the back alley."
For a second, Lando looked like he was contemplating it. She rolled her eyes as she headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.
The way Lando missed her when she was working was unhealthy, he knew. But over the weeks, months (he wasn't sure how long it had been, all of the days seemed to blend together), he'd found ways to entertain himself.
She'd given him complete access to her laptop. Lando had felt so guilty when he'd hijacked it, downloading programmes and logging into software to get into contact with his employees. But the fortification of his house was coming along nicely, all because she had given him her laptop.
Any day now the house would be ready, he knew. Lando wanted nothing more than to see her roaming the halls. He'd show her around, show her the office (once he'd made it his own), show her the library, the garden. He'd take her up to meet his mum, and his dad now, too.
The thought of her in his house, in his space, helping make it his own, it stirred something in him. Something that had him grabbing her waist before she could walk through the door and head out to work. "Lan!" She said in surprise as he nipped at her neck. "Calm down, birthday boy. I'll be back in a few hours."
He watched her go. But the moment the door shut, he sat on the sofa and opened the laptop.
Nobody had wished him a happy birthday, but Lando wasn't surprised. That wasn't how it worked in a family. It was business as usual, maybe a private celebration with the head of the family's partner.
This was already the best birthday Lando had ever had. He logged into the laptop, typed several different and intricate passwords into the software he had to get into.
Will and Max had left him messages, detailing what they had done to the house. You'll need to come by today and get yourself onto the system, Will had messaged.
A groan left Lando's lips. He threw his head back for just a moment, eyes shutting. Her rarely used car was parked just across the street, and Lando knew where she kept the keys. If he left how he could be back before returned from work.
Getting changed into his suit (the one she'd cleaned up for him), Lando grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. He pocketed them and made his way out to her car.
Lando hadn't been back to the house in months. It didn't look any different from the day he'd left it.
By the gate waited Max Fewtrell. He looked at Lando with a frown before using the keypad to open the gate. As the gate opened, Max climbed into the car. "This isn't yours," he said.
"Nope," Lando replied and began driving up towards the house.
Still, Max looked at him,clearly waiting for something more. Something that Lando wouldn't give unprompted. "You haven't run off and become a car thief, have you?" Max challenged. "Because that would be really bad for business."
Lando couldn't help but laugh as he pulled up to the house. "Nope, this beauty belongs to the love of my life."
Beauty. Max snorted at that. The car was anything but beautiful. "If we get everything set up today, you gonna move her in?"
Truthfully, Lando didn't know. If he'd been any other rich guy living in this huge ass house, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he wasn't just any other rich guy. His world was dangerous and he wanted her away from it. If he could have kept himself away, he would have.
Max led him to the security office. He sat Lando down in front of a bunch of monitors and began setting up the security system, coding it to his passwords and prints.
It was a long process, one I will not bore you with. Lando was nearly falling asleep by the time he was finally finished. He checked the watch on his wrist and couldn't wait to get back to her apartment, back to her. His baby.
But he wasn't quite ready yet. With Max trailing behind him, Lando walked to his bedroom.
How many mindless hookups had he had in this bed? "Get new sheets," he said and Max wrote it down. "And clear out half of my wardrobe."
Because Lando really couldn't stay away from her, could he? After spending the last few months living together, living in bliss, he couldn't imagine not waking up beside her every day.
So, Lando had his staff readying the house for her to move in. It was incredible to watch happen, all for his baby. And, as soon as that was done, he headed home, headed back to hers.
***
Things had felt normal, leaving the office. He stopped into the shops, got the birthday boy some birthday chocolates, and got some takeout for the both of them.
It was her usual route home and not too far at all. Although she lived in a sketchy area, she'd never felt unsafe on her walk home.
Until tonight.
Maybe it was paranoia. Ever since Lando had told her, she'd been a lot more wary. But she'd never felt this before, never this terrified.
She sped up her steps and quickly glanced back.
The person behind her with his hands shoved into their pockets sped up their steps, too. They crossed the street when she crossed the street and followed her around corners.
When she got to her street, she was running. She kept the takeout and the shopping held tight to her body as she legged it as fast as she could to her door.
The person behind her started running, too.
As soon as she got through the door of the apartment building, she pushed her way through and kicked it shut behind her, buying her just a few more seconds.
She managed to get her own door open before the person grabbed her. Throwing her body against the door she shut it, locked it and put the chain across.
Her chest was heaving as she dropped her bags and wandered into the kitchen. As she poured herself some water, Lando came running out of the bedroom. "Baby, what is it?" He called as he strode over.
She was shaking when Lando pulled her into his chest. "You're okay," he whispered and ran his hands through his hair. He ignored the smashed bottle of wine by the front door. "I've got you, baby."
She didn't tell him what happened that moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. Lando held her until she could and, when she did, he spent his night by the door, watching through the peephole with his gun pressed to the wood.
Tomorrow he'd get her out of here, get her somewhere safe.
a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated this one in over two weeks, my focus has been elsewhere lmao
Permanent taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool
@rewmuslupin
@prettiest-at-the-party
@hellowgoodbye
@minseok-smaus
@formulaal
@darleneslane
@hiireadstuff
@urfavnoirette
@goldenharrysworld
@andydrysdalerogers
@raikkxz
@llando4norris
@evlkking
@lilymurphy03
@hollie911
@customsbyjcg-blog
@honethatty12
@nikfigueiredo
@not-nyasa
Series Taglist (CLOSED): @millinorrizz
@cinnamongirlontv
@sainzluvrr
@aquangxl
@drunkinthemiddleoftheday
@queenofmanydreams
@somepeoplemaybe
@shobaes
@thatsusbitch
@ibanstro
@barcelonaloverf1life
@hotbuns13
@dinodumbass
@bellezaycafe
@maddie-naps
@dontleaveitsmyfault3
@jule239
@noneofyourfbusinessworld
@annispamz
@thehufflepuffavenger1
@eviethetheatrefreak
@lovejunz
@nervous-bee
@lifelessfan
@phantomxoxo
@ladymarvel27
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#f1#formula one#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#mafia!f1#mafia!au
289 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do a fic where the reader works for Ferrari and has been friends with Charles for a long time, and recently Charles and the reader have a friends with benefits thing going on, but the reader is actually in love with him. Then when Lewis moves to Ferrari, he takes an interest in the reader, the reader decides to give him a shot and stops the situationship with Charles and he realises he doesn't want to let her go.
thank you for this request, this was a little bit hard to make because i was looking at how to develop the story but I really liked how it came out, I hope you like it!
Confusions at work | cl16 & lh44
Summary: when you have feelings for your situationship but a new person gets in the middle of it.
Warnings: a little angst, confused reader, and fluff at the end.
The garage bustles with mechanics working on the gleaming red cars. You lean over the table to see the monitor with the different strategies for the first practice session of the day. Charles walks towards you, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Looking stunning with that frowned face y/n... As always.”
You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. You have known Charles since his great season in Formula 2 back in 2017, by then you were already working as an internal race engineer in the Haas team, you were practically like Sheldon from the big bang theory - a brainiac. Upon meeting Charles there was an instant connection, it was as if you had always known each other, eventually, you were promoted from Haas to Ferrari in 2019, just the same year that Charles was promoted to the red team too, and ever since then the easy camaraderie between you has turned into something more... A secret, friends-with-benefits situation that both sets your heart ablaze and tears it in two.
“Yeah, yeah, save it for the cameras, Perceval. You know perfectly well I can take you down with a bad strategy any day.” you chuckled.
Charles feigns offense, but his laughter betrays him. You share a comfortable silence, a familiarity that speaks volumes. The moment is shattered by the arrival of Lewis Hamilton, the new star driver at Ferrari. Arriving at that first meeting at Maranello his gaze settles on you, a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes. Fred had offered you a change of position with Adami to be Lewis' race engineer, but the comfort and confidence you already had working with Charles made you decline the offer, likewise, working with a seven-time world champion is a privilege, since you can learn a lot from him, but you and Charles had practically grown up together at Ferrari and out of loyalty to him you stayed with him.
-
The following weeks are a whirlwind. Lewis tries to get close to you, and as a result, you end up having some dates and night-outs with him. He is charismatic, attentive, you dare to say that he's a bit similar to Charles in so many ways since both of them treat you with such care and kindness. You find yourself drawn to his confidence and outgoing demeanor, a stark contrast to Charles' usual genuine and soft care towards you. Guilt gnaws at you, but the thrill of something new is intoxicating... And with a little sadness in your heart, you decide to end things with Charles... At least for a little while you try to understand what your heart wants.
One night you went to Charles' apartment, and you entered with the extra key that he had given you a long time ago. Charles' apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the usual post-race buzz. You stand awkwardly in the living room, avoiding his gaze.
You gulped. “Charles... I think we need to talk.”
He looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. The air crackles with unspoken emotions. “Y/n what's wrong sweetie? Did I do something wrong?”
You take a deep breath. “It's about this.” you sigh. “This thing between us... It can go anymore.”
Silence hangs heavy in the air, Charles' frown deepens, his eyes searching yours. “Is it Lewis? Is this about him?” he asked.
The truth hangs on your tongue, a bitter pill to swallow. “Maybe, maybe not... The point is, things need to change... We need to take a break... At least for a little while.”
Charles stands abruptly, his frustration palpable. “Just like that? We throw away everything because of... what? Because some shiny new toy showed up?” His words sting, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes - a vulnerability you haven't seen before.
“It's not that simple, Charles. You know it's... Complicated.”
Tears well up in your eyes, this isn't how you imagined this conversation going. You practically run out of Charles' apartment, frustrated because you don't know if you did the right thing and at the same time you don't know if being with Lewis is the same as being with Charles... Because at the end of the day, he somehow manages to see through you and understand you on a level that Lewis cannot.
-
Days turn into weeks, you and Charles avoid each other. The only words that come out of your mouth are simply a "hello" and a "see you later", occasionally long sentences when you're giving him directions during the race or at the team debrief, the air is thick with unspoken tension. The joy has gone out of working at Ferrari... You see the way Lewis looks at you, but a hollow ache fills your chest. At night you constantly think about what you would be doing with Charles at that exact moment, perhaps cuddling up watching a movie, or a normal date at his house eating pizza, wearing matching socks and playing Mario kart... And even though Lewis takes you to glamorous galas, lavish dinners and so on, you don't complain about it, on the contrary, you're grateful for it, but, there's nothing like that instant connection with Charles.
One afternoon, Charles corners you near his car. His eyes are stormy, a mix of anger and something else you can't decipher.
You hear him sigh. “I miss you y/n... Like hell.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You miss him too, the easy banter, the way he understood you without words, the way his eyes spark every single time he was next to you.
“Charles... I...” you say shyly but he cuts you off, his voice rough.
“Don't... Don't tell me you miss Lewis...because if you do, I'll understand. But at least know this – this thing we have, it's real, at least for me. It's more than just crazy strategies and stolen kisses after victories. Maybe I haven't said it, haven't shown it the way you deserve, but I care about you, y/n... A lot.”
His confession hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable, you've never seen him that way. You can see the years of unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface. Tears prick your eyes, blurring the image of Charles in front of you.
A million things fight for dominance in your mind: the thrill of the new with Lewis, the comfortable companionship with Charles, the undeniable spark you share with him.
Taking a shaky breath, you meet his gaze.
”Charles, I... I don't know what I want... I mean, Lewis is exciting, a new challenge. But with you... it's different, it's easy, familiar, it's warm. But it's also... frustrating you know? You never give anything away, never let anyone in all the way.”
A flicker of pain crosses Charles' features. He reaches out, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm. “I'm scared y/n... Scared of losing you, scared of letting myself feel something this real. But if you're willing to take a chance, maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out together.” he says softly.
The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions. You look into Charles' eyes, searching for a glimpse of the future you both could have. The weight of the decision settles on your shoulders. You glance around the garage, the familiar red of the Ferraris a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. Lewis' confident smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly replaced by the image of Charles' vulnerability, a side you've never seen before.
Taking a deep breath, you meet Charles' gaze, a flicker of determination replacing your earlier uncertainty.
“Okay Charles, let's figure this out... Together.” you say softly.
A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him. He pulls you into a tight embrace, the scent of his familiar cologne grounding you, it feels like coming home.
“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for taking a chance on us.” he whispers in your ear.
You pull back slightly, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “Just don't expect me to lose in the strategy game anytime soon, Leclerc... This isn't over yet.”
Charles throws his head back and laughs, the tension finally breaking. He ruffles your hair affectionately.
“I wouldn't have it any other way amour... Wouldn't have it any other way.” he smiles. (love)
-
The garage and the pit wall is mostly deserted, the day's work winding down. You're packing up some of your things when Lewis approaches, a determined look in his eyes.
“Hey, y/n! Can I talk to you?” he asked with a friendly smile on his face.
You hesitate, then nod, gesturing towards a quiet corner. Lewis leans against a wall, his voice gets a little serious.
“I saw you and Charles... And I get it now, there's something there, a history I can't compete with.” There's a hint of disappointment in his voice, but mostly understanding.
“Lewis, I... I'm really sorry. Things just moved too fast too soon, and I realized what I was risking.” you say softly but Lewis offers a shy smile.
“No need to apologize, but follow your heart, y/n! That's all any of us can do... Besides, maybe next time on the track, I can finally knock your team off that top spot in the strategy battle.”
A genuine smile graces your lips. “Don't count on it, Hamilton. But hey, maybe we can grab a coffee sometime and hash out some friendly competition strategies. No promises on who'll win, though.”
Lewis chuckles, the tension dissipating. He extends his hand for a handshake. “Deal! And good luck with Charles. He's a lucky guy!”
You shake his hand, a newfound sense of clarity settling within you, he gives you a warm smile and a friendly hug. As Lewis walks away, you glance towards Charles, who's watching the exchange with a hint of possessiveness in his eyes. You catch his gaze and he winks at you, a silent promise hanging between you.
He walks towards you with a little smile on his face and takes you in his arms.
“So... How about we get out of here? I could use a real shower you know?” you say and Charles' smile widens, genuine relief washing over his features.
“Sounds like a plan. My place, or yours?” he asks softly.
The air hangs heavy with unspoken possibilities. You know this is a turning point in your relationship, a chance to rebuild something stronger.
“Your place only if you promise to make that killer pasta dish you always brag about.” you say teasingly.
Charles lets out a mock groan, but there's a twinkle in his eye. “Fine, fine. But you have to help me chop the vegetables! No bystanders in my kitchen, okay?” You laugh, the tension finally breaking. As you finally grab all of your things, Charles slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Come on, sweetcheeks. Let's get out of here before someone challenges me to another mario kart race.” he smiles softly. “You know I can't resist a good challenge, especially when you're involved.”
You nudge him playfully, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest.
”Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, Leclerc. But just you wait, next time I'm schooling you.”
Together you walk out of the garage, the setting sun casting an orange glow across the racetrack. The future is uncertain, but with a newfound commitment to each other, you're ready to face it head-on. You and Charles head towards his car, the promise of a home-cooked meal and a chance to reconnect hanging heavy in the air.
#formula one x reader#poly!f1#poly!drivers x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles x you#lewis hamilton#lewis x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#cl16 x lh44 x reader#poly!drivers#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles x reader
212 notes
·
View notes
Text
In Time
Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble - 2K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: none really this is very fluffy because I'm a slut for Feyd being soft with you and nobody else
----------------------------------
You wandered the dark halls of the palace. Geidi Prime was dark, cold, and lonely. You missed Ix, your home world. You had been sent to Geidi Prime as an offering of sorts. The Lord Na-Baron Feyd Rautha was of age and needed a wife. Several options from the Great Houses had been sent and you were there to represent Ix as its only princess. You truly did not care for this polluted planet and knew someone as plain as you considered yourself to be would not catch the Na-Baron’s eye. So, you wandered the halls in search of nothing in particular. A grand palace was very different from the labs of Ix. Everything on Ix was below the surface of the planet, the only reason to go to the surface was to travel. So here you wandered, the glow from your levitating lamp was all that accompanied you. You heard your steps echo before you stopped. You activated your shield, a bluish blur settling over you. You stood still, listening for something as you felt the air around you shift. You softly pressed a button on your wrist control pad, the light from your lamp going out. You sat in complete darkness, yet you knew you weren’t alone. Pressing another button your eyes shone like an animal in the dark, searching for prey through the night vision.
“I can see you.” you said to the man ducking low behind a pillar a few feet from you. You walked over to him as he rose to his full height; he towered over you and he was most definitely a Harkonnen. You tried to walk past him but he followed you.
“You’re not allowed in this wing.” he said gruffly, trailing behind you closely.
“And what wing would this be?” you sighed out, not wanting to deal with anyone right now.
“The engineering wing,” he said, now walking next to you.
You let out a laugh, “This is exactly where I should be. Feels like home.” you said.
“Home?” the stranger asked.
“Ix - aka the high tech planet. We make everything useful and somehow we are still forgotten.” you sighed, shrugging off the sadness in your statement. You turned into a room that was exuding light in the hallway, the only light in this dreary place. It looked like one of the basic mechanic labs on Ix but for the Harkonnens this must have been impressive. You went to one of the tables before grabbing specific tools. The stranger watched you from the doorway, leaning against it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Fixing a glitch.” you said nonchalantly as you pulled out your right eye.
Feyd walked closer, watching your nimble fingers work to fix something so small. “You made your own eye?”
“Eyes,” you corrected. “I was born without eyes, a strange mutation but Ix has such advanced technology I have always been able to see.” you said as you snapped the final piece into place. You put your eye back in, blinking a few times to get it recalibrated and working. You clicked a few buttons on your wrist control pad, watching as it ran diagnostics through your right eye while refocusing the left.
“Do you invent things like the others from Ix?” he asked, watching your pupils dilate repeatedly.
“I’m not that talented,” you chuckled, “I am excellent at repairs though, I enjoy fixing or upgrading random things in the palace. Mother hates it, says it's for the servants to do.” You rolled your eyes.
“Can you fix this?” Said the man, handing you his shield device. “It turns on but falters.”
You took it from his pale hand, fingers connecting, sending a chill up your hand in the most pleasant way. You inspected it before unlatching the cover and began prodding the wires. You used different tools from all over the room, the man’s eyes never left you.
“Why are you on Geidi Prime if you’re the princess of Ix?” He asked, sitting slightly closer as he watched you melt wires together.
You faltered for a moment, setting your tools down before letting out a sigh. “I’m a prospective bride for the Lord Na-Baron Feyd Rautha.” You said with a grimace.
The stranger chuckled, “Not a fan of his?” He asked.
“I’m not a fan of being a prize for some stranger to win.” you corrected him.
“You’re not afraid of him?” he asked, sounding like he was in slight disbelief.
“I fear no one. Fear is the mind killer.” you replied.
“You’re Bene Gesserit?” he asked with slight disdain.
“No, but it is a good mantra to hold. Once you know the horrors of the universe and fear nothing, the universe is yours.” you said, clicking the receptor into place.
“And what will you do if he picks you?” he asked.
“That depends. If he is a brute, I will endure and bring both our houses honor. If he is gentle, I will grow to love him, and hope he loves me in return. Either way I will do my duty. My happiness is all that hangs in the balance. But that has never mattered much to men.” you finished before fastening his shield to his torso armor. You turned it on, the blue blur covering him. You grabbed a screwdriver, flipping it over before attempting to stab him. The shield caught the sharp, not allowing it to pass.
You put the screwdriver back on the table, “There, all fixed.” you smiled sweetly at him.
“You could have stabbed me.” he smiled back.
“But I didn’t.” you pointed at him before walking towards the door. “Come on.” you motioned for him to follow you.
“Where to next?” he asked.
“I should probably return to my chambers; I could be engaged tomorrow. Best to get some sleep.” you sighed once again.
“If he asked, gave you a choice, what would you say?” the man asked, walking beside you down the corridor.
“Feyd Rautha? Well… if he were like you I’d be inclined to say yes.” you smiled softly, glancing at him.
“Like me?” he asked with a bit of shock in his voice.
“Kind, curious. You are the only Harkonnen who has been either to me. Everyone else is… cold. People on Ix are quite similar, mother always said I was too emotional. Said it was a weakness that ‘inhibited one's ability to see reason’. But I think it can be a strength. It allows for one to truly feel, to truly connect with others.”
“Did you connect with others on Ix?” he asked.
“No, not much. It has always been a lonely existence, my plants and trinkets were company enough.” you replied, looking down with slight shame.
The man gently grabbed you hand in his cold pale one, “You won’t always be alone.” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “The princess with the magic eyes.”
Your lips tipped up at the affectionate name, “Y/N.” you said, realizing you never told him your name. “Princess Y/N of Ix.” you said giving a curtsey while he still held your hand.
He chuckled before kissing your knuckles again, “Goodnight Princess Y/N of Ix.” he said before letting you go.
You watched him walk down the hall into the darkness, wondering if your family would accept a Harkonnen on Ix as the mystery man made you feel something inside. Your eyes widened, realizing you never got his name, you looked up quickly to ask him but he was already gone. You turned in for the night, drifting off to thoughts of the man you met that night.
-------------------------------------
The maids that traveled with you finished adorning you in your house colors, gold and black. You looked at yourself in your mirror, sighing.
“You look beautiful my lady, the Na-Baron would be lucky to have you.” your maid said.
You smiled sadly at her, nodding in agreement. Your chamber door slid open, multiple guards filled in. “Time to go princess.” he said, leading you down the hallways before entering the Great Hall. You saw 10 other women from the various Great Houses standing in a line before the Baron.
“Fine specimens for my nephew, he will enjoy whomever he chooses.” the Baron said to Rabban with a sick laugh.
You rolled your eyes, clasping your hands together in front of you. You prayed that you were overlooked and could leave Geidi Prime as soon as possible. You heard the Grand Hall doors open once more and watched the man from last night round all of you to stand next to the Baron.
“Nephew!” he said.
Your stomach hit the floor, your eyes bulging. You felt faint as you started to tremble slightly. The man from last night was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen himself. “Fuck. Me.” you damned yourself.
“Choose your bride.” the Baron said, motioning to you all.
Feyd started at the opposite end of women, slowly walking past each one. The tension was agonizing. Now that you knew who the man from last night was, you regret everything you said to him. You tried to stab him for fucks sake. Who knew what sick plans he had for you. You stared at the ground until you saw two black boots standing before you.
“This one.” you heard his gruff voice say before you felt his cool fingers tilt your chin up. Your eyes held nervous tears, afraid of your now set future.
“Princess Y/N of Ix, a fine choice.” the Baron said. “See that the others leave Geidi Prime safely. Clear the room, give my nephew time to converse with his new bride.” the Baron said before leaving the Grand Hall with everyone else.
“I - I’m so sorry Lord Na-Baron, please forgive me for everything last night. If I had known it was you I would not have been so… so…” you stumbled.
“Normal?” he said, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “I picked the princess with the magic eyes for a reason.” he said, hand falling to gently graze yours, yet giving you plenty of space to pull away from his touch.
“I should have acted in a manner befitting my station.” you whispered.
“I didn’t pick you because I wanted a princess.” he said.
“Why then?” you asked cautiously.
“I picked you because you act with humanity, with emotion. Something lacking on Geidi Prime. Something lacking within myself.” he said with a tinge of sorrow.
“That’s not true.” you said, softly grasping his hand. You heard him suck in a sharp breath as you looked up to him. “Your eyes are blue.” you said with a small smile.
“Your eyes are magic.” he responded, not quite sure how small talk goes between people who were not Harkonnens always discussing war or bloodshed or greed.
You smiled at his words, nobody else had ever been impressed by your one invention, your eyes had always been deemed mid level impressive to those on Ix.
“I’m not a brute,” he said, holding both your hands. “I wish to see you happy on Geidi Prime. I must act with a hardened disposition but… not with you. Never with you.” he spoke.
You dropped one of his hands to cradle his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and getting lost in it. The sight saddened your heart, he had not known a gentle touch. “We can bring each other happiness, in time.” you said as you thumbed over his cheek bone.
“And… perhaps love. In time.” he said, opening his eyes. His hand grasped yours from his face before kissing your palm.
You leaned up, briefly connecting your lips in a soft kiss. His hands fell to your waist, pulling you closer to him. “All in good time, Na-Baron, my husband.” you smiled.
“Feyd,” he said. “Just Feyd to you, my Na-Baroness, my wife.” you could just see his black teeth with the slight smile he gave you.
“Na-Baron Feyd Rautha and Na-Baroness Y/N.” you said your formal titles, well, what would be your formal titles by the end of the week. Harkonnens wasted little time with wedding ceremonies, only wanting an heir as soon as possible.
His name sounded like a prayer on your tongue as he leaned his forehead against yours, holding you close to him. Your hands rested on his chest, breathing him in. He wasn’t a brute, your happiness didn’t hang in the balance. You wanted to nurture each other, what more could you have asked for?
-------------------------------
Naboo's Note:
Hello! To all my new and old fans out there, thank you for reading my stuff! Still madly in love with this little psycho but I tend to write him as a soft boy because I love the "hates everyone but you" trope. Next Feyd fic will be a smut piece so be on the look out for that. I would love some Feyd requests so don't be shy, please send them my way! Thanks again, <3!!!! XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXO
#feyd x you#feyd imagine#feyd x reader#feyd smut#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen#house harkonnen#dune part two#writing#dune part 2#harkonnen#rabban harkonnen#baron harkonnen#austin butler
157 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, love your work.
I was thinking a maybe a break up and make up fic with:
Angst Prompt 31. “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”
Fluff prompt 7. “You’re the only person I want to spend my life with”
With Eddie Munson/Y/N Henderson or Y/N Wheeler. A sister from one of the main party.
Eddie and Y/N have been together before season 1. Season 1 happens, Y/N was there. Resulting in her getting closer to Steve or Jonathan, to which Eddie thinks Y/N is cheating on him. Even catches Steve/Jonathan comforting Y/N and gets the wrong idea. They break up. The younger brother of Y/N tells Eddie off and makes him rethink things. Leading to them getting back together.
Thank you so much! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Friends? Or something else?
Y/N Wheeler was quite different from her sister, Nancy. Nancy liked the boy next door vibe, and Y/N liked the rebel bad boy. Y/N didn't see what Nancy ever saw in Steve in the beginning. But he turned out to be a sweet guy when Nancy stomped on his heart.
She felt bad for Steve, but Y/N wanted to spend her free time with Eddie. It was no shock that the two fell for each other. Eddie was exactly her type, the leather, the attitude, and the nasty mouth he kissed her with.
Anyone could see she was smitten with the boy. She kissed the ground he walked on. She would do anything he asked, and do it happily.
It was a shame all he did was doubt her love for him
~~~
Eddie and Steve didn't really get along. Back when Nancy and Steve were together, the sisters loved double dates.
As Y/N fed Eddie fries and shared chocolate milkshakes, Nancy and Steve would argue across from them. Half of their double dates ended with Eddie and Y/N sneaking off.
Eddie didn't like the way Steve carried himself. He thought he was so superior compared to the rest of them and that didn't sit well with Eddie. And Y/N thought the same. She hated the way he treated Eddie.
Y/N just couldn't get along with Steve.
Until Nancy broke up with him and he finally showed his true self.
She couldn't lie. She felt bad for Steve. He showed up to their house with flowers but Nancy was already out with friends. Y/N couldn't leave him outside and alone. She let him in and before she knew it she was comforting him.
He cried into her arms as he talked about how Nancy was all he had left.
"I'll be here for you, I promise."
And she meant it. Whenever Steve called, she listened to what he had to say. Nancy was a little bothered at first. She found it weird her ex-boyfriend was using her little sister as a shoulder. But then Steve began to change, in a way Nancy thought wasn't possible.
The friendship helped Steve and Nancy accept that. It even helped get them back on normal speaking terms.
Eddie hated it, though. He hated having Y/N in his lap, rocking her hips against his. His tongue battled hers as the music played through his shitty speakers.
"Wheeler, call for Wheeler."
Steve's voice cut through the moment like a knife. The static voice worked its way through the talkie and Y/N pulled back.
"One second," she whispered.
Eddie felt his stomach turn as she grabbed the talkie and went outside. He wanted to trust her, he so badly did. But it was so hard when she'd always leave the room to talk to him. Why can't she talk to him in front of her boyfriend? It meant she was hiding something.
She had to be cheating on him.
And the thought of it broke his heart.
The one time he was in love, she found someone else.
~
What Eddie didn't know was that Steve and Y/N found themselves thrown into some type of supernatural portal. Something called the upside down? She wasn't quite sure what it all meant yet, but all she knew was that she and Steve fought hand in hand for months on end.
The world seemed to be back to normal and they wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want Eddie to get dragged into all of it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him. So she demanded every single one in the gang keep what happened a secret.
It was sworn that Eddie never found out what happened a few months back.
As a result of being at war with Steve, meant their friendship grew so strong that they truly became best friends. They leaned on each other when they needed it the most.
Eddie didn't understand how one minute she hated Steve and the next, she ran the second he called. He knew something happened between them. He tried to piece together a timeline, but he drew blanks.
~
She bounced back into the trailer with an apologetic smile on her face.
"Steve needs to talk some stuff out. He got in a fight with his dad. Can we raincheck the movie?" she asked
Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't surprised.
"Sure thing," Eddie smiled. He was good at pretending that nothing was wrong. So well that she had no idea she was ruining their relationship the more she picked Steve.
~~~
"Do you think you'll come to the hideout tonight?" Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around Y/N. Her back to his chest as she crammed books in her locker.
His lips kissed her neck as he swayed them back and forth.
"Ew, get a room." Nancy gagged, but a smile on her face. Nancy loved seeing her sister in love. She was the main reason Nancy ended things with Steve.
Nancy wanted what Y/N and Eddie had, and she didn't feel like she did with Steve.
"Um, I'm sorry but I don't think I can." Y/N cringed as Eddie's touch was gone in a second.
Nancy sensed the air change and quickly left them alone. Nancy knew tonight was a meeting with the gang, they were worried the upside down was opening again. But Eddie couldn't know.
"Don't even tell me it's because you'll be with Steve." Eddie snapped.
Y/N felt nervous to turn around. She gulped as she turned around, that same apologetic look in her eyes.
"Why now? Can he just go to fucking therapy and stop using my girlfriend?"
"Eds, be nice," she tried, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was strongly irritated.
"What's wrong?" she asked, she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn't hide the pain she felt when he backed away.
"What's wrong? What's wrong is that my girlfriend doesn't seem to give a shit that I exist." Eddie spat, he wanted to keep his anger in check but he couldn't help but sound pissed.
"Of course I do! Tonight I just had prior plans."
"Cancel and come with me," Eddie said, his voice soft as he grabbed her hand. He turned his puppy eyes to her as he begged.
"I can't cancel, Eds." She sighed sadly
The anger washed up as quickly as it washed away.
He dropped her hand like it burned. Her hand was dead against her side as it dangled.
"Why not?" he challenged
"They all need me, baby," she said softly
Eddie shook his head and chuckled darkly.
"They do or Steve does?"
"Eddie, you know it's not like that, right?" She said, her heart broke as she watched the insecurity flash across his face. Had he been upset about Steve all this time? Was she a horrible girlfriend for not noticing?
"Just sometimes I need my girlfriend too," he said sadly, then walked off.
"Eddie, no wait," she said, she grabbed his hand. She felt her throat close up as he sniffled.
"Forget it. I'll tell you about the show whenever I see you."
"Eddie, please. I'm sorry." she tried, she wanted to tell him the truth but she couldn't.
"I know, I'll see you later," he said, his mouth in a tight line as he walked away.
~
Y/N couldn't focus during the meeting. Her brain focused on the little fight with Eddie. Had she been neglecting him? She would never intentionally hurt him and she hated that she still did.
Steve was listening to Dustin when he heard sniffles. He looked beside him and watched as Y/N silently cried. Her head down as she used her shirt to catch the tears.
"You okay?" Steve whispered in her ear
"Course," she said, putting on a fake smile as she looked at him
But looking at Steve made her think of Eddie. And thinking of Eddie caused a loud sob to escape.
The gang all looked in her direction. Nancy and Mike watched with concern as she stood up.
"Sorry, need a minute." she apologized, she raced up the stairs and closed the basement door behind her.
She dropped her body on the front step and let the sobs take over her body. She cried into her hands as the afternoon played through her head on an endless loop.
Steve followed behind her, he sat next to her and he wrapped his arms around her. She turned her body into his and sobbed. Her wet tears soaked his shirt as she sobbed.
"What is going on?" he whispered, he gently rubbed her back as she tried to get ahold of herself.
She told him everything that happened, Steve felt a puddle of guilt in his stomach. He pulled her away, it was his fault Eddie was upset.
They were lost in their own world, no idea that as Steve placed a comforting kiss on her forehead Eddie was in the driveway.
Eddie's heavy feet stomped towards them. They jumped apart hearing his boots crunch the sticks below.
Steve stood up and held his hands in defense
"Munson, I swear it-" but he didn't get to finish his sentence.
Eddie went at him, a huge right punch connected straight against Steve's eye. Steve crumbled to the grass instantly as he held his eye.
"EDDIE!" Y/N gasped, she quickly jumped in front of Steve as Eddie went to charge forward.
"Not like that right?" Eddie spat, his voice filled with venom as he shot her words right back at her.
"Eddie," Steve groaned as he stood up. He looked at Eddie with one eye, holding the bruising one. "It's not what you think, I swear."
"I don't give a single fuck about what you have to say" Eddie hissed as he pointed at Steve over Y/N's shoulder.
"Steve, can you give us a second?" Y/N asked, but her eyes never left Eddie.
Once she heard the front door shut, she took a deep breath.
"How could you do this to me?" Eddie asked, his voice cracked as the first round of tears fell down his face. "We were so in love. You used to love me so much. You used to never leave my side and now? Now I can barely remember the last time we even had sex."
"Oh Eddie," she whimpered as she stepped forward and held his face in her hands. She cried seeing him cry. "We are in love! I still love you. I love you more and more every day. I'm sorry I've gotten so caught up with Steve but I promise you it is not because I have feelings for him. I didn't know you were missing me so much."
"How could you know? You won't see me for more than ten minutes." he snapped, he grabbed her hands and shoved them off of his face. She tried to ignore the drop of her heart.
"You're right. I am so sorry. Talk to me, let's talk it out."
"I don't think I even want to anymore," he confessed. YN shook her head as she panicked.
"No, baby, You can do it, just tell me what you are feeling, please," she begged, she fought hard not to touch him. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him but she couldn't tell if he wanted her to touch him.
"You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?" Eddie said, he lashed out as his tears turned into anger. His voice rose. "For Steve? I mean how could you even do this to Nancy?"
"She doesn't care because she knows we are just friends!" Y/N argued. "Like I've told you! There is nothing between him and I."
"YOU AND I USED TO BE FRIENDS, SHIT CHANGES Y/N!" he screamed, no doubt letting the neighbors know a fight was breaking out
"That's different." she cried, tears falling down her face.
"HOW?" he screamed as he stepped closer. Right in her face as he demanded his answer.
"BECAUSE I WAS ALREADY IN LOVE WITH YOU, ASSHOLE. I KNEW I LOVED YOU AND I HAD TO PRETEND I DIDN'T BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE YOU AS A FRIEND. THAT IS WHY IT IS DIFFERENT. I'VE NEVER WANTED TO KISS STEVE OR WONDERED WHAT HE TASTED LIKE. IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU!" she cried, it hurt to have him so close and not touch him. She wanted to have the right words to say.
"Then why has it only been Steve, lately?" Eddie asked, breaking down as the words left his tongue. More tears fell as he looked into her eyes. He used to see through her, but something happened and her eyes never told him the truth anymore.
"I can't tell you because it would kill me if you got hurt because of me." She watched as he nodded and choked back his tears. His red eyes looked into hers.
"You've been hurting me for months, and you are still breathing," her heart shattered as he began to step back, "Steve or not, it's clear you don't have the time for me. Take me off that full plate you have."
"Eddie, please don't" she sobbed as he kept stepping back. With each step he took, she made that step forward.
"If you ever truly loved me, you'll let me heal from you. I don't deserve to feel second best by my own girlfriend."
With those words, she stopped. She planted her feet in the grass as he turned around. She covered her mouth as he got in his van. Before he closed the door, she yelled his name.
He looked over at her
"I need you to know that I'm doing what you asked. I'll leave you alone and give you the space you need because it'll prove that I love you. Even if it kills me to never be with you again."
She watched as he didn't say a word, just closing his door and taking off down the road.
~~~
Mike had seen both his sisters experience breakups, but nothing as bad as Y/N.
It's been a week since the breakup, and Y/N barely leaves her room. She came out to use the bathroom, sometimes she'd sit in the kitchen and stare at the phone. She'd pray that he would call, but she knew he wouldn't. After a few hours, she'd go right back up to her room.
"Poor girl. I've never seen her so heartbroken." Karen said as she sat down at the dinner table. "Has she done any of the schoolwork she missed?"
"Barely, I've turned in a few of her assignments." Nancy said, "She won't even talk to me about it."
"Shame on that boy for hurting her," Karen said as she shook her head, "I wish I could smack some sense into him."
His mom's words gave Mike an idea.
~
The next morning Mike biked to Eddie's trailer. It was a Saturday morning so he knew Eddie would be rotting in bed.
He was done seeing his sister lose herself
and he was done with Eddie's cranky ass during Hellfire.
He threw his bike into the dirt as he raced up to Eddie's trailer. He pounded on the door.
"Wheeler?" Eddie said confused, his eyes half open as he yawned.
"We need to talk," Mike snapped, letting himself in the trailer and sitting on the couch.
"Great, another fight with a wheeler," Eddie mumbled to himself.
"What can I help you with?" Eddie asked as he stood.
"Why does it look like you are sleeping on the couch?" Mike asked with sass as he pushed the bundle of blankets out of his way. "Bedroom reeks of all the random girls you've been sleeping with?" he hissed.
"Woah, little Wheeler. What I do in my bedroom is none of your business. What makes you think I'm sleeping with random girls? Is that how your sister is dealing with the breakup?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help but get mad at his own words.
"Oh shut your mouth," Mike snapped, "my sister isn't this whore you claim her to be."
"I know, that was uncalled for," Eddie said, "how...how is she?" he couldn't help but ask. It had been eating him up all week. He hadn't seen her once, hadn't heard her voice, and it killed him. He had no idea if she was breaking apart or completely fine with Eddie gone.
"Answer my question first," Mike demanded, he got off the couch and walked to Eddie's room. If there was a girl in there, Mike swore he'd kill Eddie before the upside-down had the chance.
"WHEELER!" Eddie yelled but Mike carried on. He flew Eddie's door open. And it was empty. The bed set is perfectly made, with a flower on the pillow with a note attached.
"And what slut is this for? Moving on already?" Mike snapped. He reached forward and grabbed the note.
"Give me that!" Eddie snapped back, snatching the note from his hands. "I'm not sleeping with anyone, okay? I haven't been in here since the breakup. She made my bed that morning and wrote me a note, and this was the first flower someone had given me. I just wanted to leave everything the way she touched it." Eddie explained. The room held too many memories, and it smelled of her.
"Can we talk in the living room?"
Mike nodded, knowing not to push Eddie further.
They walked back into the living room as Eddie closed his bedroom door. Eddie took a seat next to Mike.
"She's heartbroken," Mike said, Eddie looked over at him. "She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and stares at the phone the second school ends until she knows you are asleep. She's miserable and it's all your fault!" Mike said, pissed at Eddie for hurting his sister. Mike stood up so he could tower over Eddie, by a little.
"You broke her and you better fix it!"
"I didn't do anything, Mike. You are too young to understand, but our relationship wasn't the same." Eddie sighed. He did feel awful hearing about how bad she was doing. Guilt in his bones as he pictured her staring at the phone.
There were so many times he wanted to call. At one point he didn't care if she ever had feelings for Steve, he wanted to be with her anyway. He'd watch her kiss Steve a thousand times if she still picked Eddie to come home to.
"I might be young, but I'm not an idiot. Steve never liked her, he is still hung up on Nancy. And Y/N never liked Steve more than a friend. Hell, she barely understood what Nancy saw in him because he wasn't you. She is so in love with you that you are literally the only guy she sees worthy. I don't blame you for wanting to protect yourself. But she has been killing herself to protect you."
"But I don't understand why she can't tell me! We've been in a relationship for over a year, and she still has these secrets!" Eddie argued.
"It's not her secret to tell! It's mine, okay?" Mike said, Eddie looked at him confused. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. But you have to believe me. It'll explain why Y/N thought it would protect you to keep you out of it."
Eddie sat and listened as Mike explained what happened over the past year. The upside down and the battles. How Y/N and Steve got thrown together and they could only turn to each other because of it. But it all made sense. She kept promising she couldn't tell because if he got hurt, it would kill her. Because if Eddie got hurt, he wouldn't survive.
~~~
Eddie waited a day before he picked up the phone. He felt nervous as he dialed the number he knew by heart.
It rang for a second before a voice appeared on the other end
"Hello, Y/N speaking,"
Eddie closed his eyes at the sadness in her voice.
"Hey, darling. It's, uh me, Eddie." He stuttered out
"I knew it was you by the first word," she laughed sadly. She hated how hard it seemed to talk to him. Like she didn't know what to say.
"Right," he chuckled, "I was hoping we could talk? Maybe better in person?" He drummed his hands against the wall as he heard her breathing heavily through the phone.
"Yeah, um when and where?" Her voice cracked as she blinked back her tears. This was the final moment, he wanted to break it off officially. She gave him his space and he was ready for it to be forever.
"Please don't cry, sweetheart." He begged, choking up himself as he listened to her.
"I'm fine!" She lied, "Just tell me when and where."
"My place and the sooner the better."
He clenched his eyes in pain as she whimpered and let out a soft okay before the phone went dead.
~
She drove over to his trailer, unable to keep the tears back.
She was scared to see him again. She barely kept it together hearing his voice again. She didn't want to cry when she saw him, but it was all she had been doing for the past week.
Eddie was against his trailer smoking a cigarette when she pulled up. She took another deep breath as she turned off the car. Even having that small glimpse sent her head into a spiral.
Eddie smashed his cigarette as she walked up to him. She wore one of his old hoodies, and a pair of sweats she stole after their first movie date. Her eyes were majority swollen and red. Her nose was red as she rubbed it with his sleeve.
"Hi, sweets" Eddie cooed, as he opened his arms. Within seconds her body crashed into his as she wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her scent. He kissed her head, and every painful feeling in his body melted away.
She sobbed as she inhaled his clothes. All she wanted was to be with him again, and she was. She kept squeezing him tighter, hoping he'd feel closer.
"Don't cry, my love," he said into her hair, rubbing her back.
"I missed you so much," she sobbed, "it was so hard to give you the space you wanted."
"I missed you too, baby girl. I'm so sorry I made you give me space. I'm so sorry for the mess I made since I didn't communicate when I should have. Let's go inside." He let go of her body but laced his hand with hers as they walked into the trailer. Eddie led her to his room, he opened the door and closed it behind him. She refused to let go of his hand, but he didn't ask her to.
She wasn't sure how long she'd have before he wanted space again. He sat beside her as she looked around his room. She noticed it was the same as a week ago, but she didn't say anything.
instead of sitting next to her, he dropped to his knees and rested his head on her lap. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, she scratched his head in the way he loves.
"I'm sorry for fucking this up. I should have trusted you, I'm sorry I didn't. I thought I needed space, but all it did was make me miss you." He melted into her touch as her fingers continued to run through his hair. "I'm so in love with you. I wasn't used to sharing you and I felt like I was losing you." His puppy eyes looked up at her as he sat up on his knees.
He laced his hands with hers and rested them on her lap
"I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you. You are the only boy I'd ever want. I love you and that won't ever change." She said she unlaced their hands so she could cup his face. Her thumbs rubbed his wet cheeks as she leaned in and placed her lips on his.
Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist, his palms resting on her back as he kissed her back. Eddie straightened himself as he deepened the kiss. He kept his lips on hers as he pushed her back and stood up. Her back was against his mattress as he climbed on top of her. The kiss grew more intense and hungry as her hands moved to his stomach. His right hand rested on her cheek, he moaned as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
The kiss sent goosebumps rising on her skin. The feelings she felt when she kissed Eddie never went away, it was always butterflies and needing more.
Eddie pulled away for air, his eyes soaking her in. She was slow to open her eyes but when she did she was staring into Eddie's.
“You’re the only person I want to spend my life with” she whispered
"Just like the note said." he smiled
"Just like the note said," she laughed. Already missing his lips, she placed her hand on the back of his neck and brought his lips to hers. She frowned when Eddie pulled back a little, not letting their lips meet.
"Before I get carried away with you," Eddie winked, she blushed and bit her lip. "Will you be my girl again?"
"I never stopped,"
Eddie smiled and smashed his lips back on hers. They hungrily touched each other, showing how much they missed it and never wanted space again.
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x wheeler! reader#ashwhowrites
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, birth control discussion, dirty talk, making out, lots of touching
Word Count: 5.2k
A/N: Part Sixteen of Ink & Needle
You and Simon explore Edinburgh before heading to Johnny’s family farm in the Highlands. At the secluded cottage on property, you and Simon finally have the chance to be truly alone.
Chapter Fifteen
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist
Green grass. Fall rain. Endless gray sky.
Funny how the simple things, the things you don’t expect, can bring you joy. They ground you in a singular moment, capturing the present like a snapshot. Simon’s head is quickly filling with these pictures. They are consuming. Perfect. A calmness that he often feels just before the first sip of tea.
It took twenty minutes—and all of Simon’s willpower—to pull himself from your arms and out of bed this morning. He would have stayed but this is so much better. This is freeing. A complete separation from the stresses of his life. Since waking, Simon hasn’t thought about a single fucking worry all day.
No 141 Ink. No British Intelligence. No Kit Walsh.
Nothing.
Simon even forgot to care that he didn’t pack or wear a balaclava for this trip.
There has only been you.
You—who is the bright light in the dark that is his life.
It’s raining in Edinburgh, but that doesn’t appear to dampen your mood one bit. If anything, it makes you wilder, and Simon loves watching your intense satisfaction in everything you see around you. Right now, you stand in the middle of a cobblestone street, staring up into the cloudy sky, smiling at the soft rain as it lands on your face.
Simon is on the pavement, grinning like an idiot as you make your way back to him. Before you reach him, Simon presents his hand. You take it without question, the two of you effortlessly coming together.
It is natural. It is instinct.
The connection between his actions and his brain are so seamless, Simon doesn’t realize what he’s doing until after it has already happened. Each movement flows into the next, and it keeps the worries at a distance.
You are right in front of him. You are here and whole and all his.
Nothing compares.
With the rain, Simon sticks to indoor activities. The two of you linger in little trinket shops and old bookstores, explore winding streets, and watch the rain from café windows. You are curious, and this curiosity forces Simon to see the world around him differently. Simon always stops in Edinburgh when he visits Johnny’s family farm, but it’s just another stop to him. Nothing more.
At this point, it is routine, but watching you explore the city with new eyes gives Simon pause. It tells him to slow down, to consider that he can enjoy what’s before him as it is. Because watching you is shifting something inside of him. Not like a knife to the gut that twists and turns, but a healing with thread and needle and a tenderness that he can’t place but feels in his marrow.
When the rain stops and the clouds clear out, you and Simon stop for a sandwich before trekking up Calton Hill. Simon has seen this view hundreds of times. He stays back, allowing you to take it all in. There are other people up here—mostly tourists—but unlike them, you do not pull out your phone to snap photos. You simply admire, and inhale deeply, just living in the moment.
Simon does not interrupt. He does something he hasn’t done in ages.
From his coat pocket, Simon removes a small sketch pad and pencil. Finding a comfortable spot in the wet grass, he starts to sketch, allowing the graphite to lead. Simon sketches, simply existing, until you turn your back to Edinburgh and extend your arm to him, fingers wiggling in invitation.
Simon is the one that moves, taking your hand instead of you taking his. Again, like all the other times today, you step into his space, molding to him as if you’ve always belonged there. Bending down, Simon brushes his lips against the crown of your head before departing.
The drive to Johnny’s family farm up in the Highlands is peaceful. You sleep most of the way, and Simon doesn’t wake you until he pulls into the drive. He parks off to the side next to the tarp-covered quad and shuts off the car. Simon promised Johnny he’d check on the place before heading out to the cottage at the edge of the property.
Simon gently places his hand on your shoulders and squeezes. “We’re here.”
You stir, eyelids blinking slowly before opening fully. Sitting up, you yawn and glance around, realization dawning. “This the place?”
“Cottage is elsewhere. Stopping here first. Promised Johnny I’d look in on the place.”
“You mentioned no one would be here.” You have the passenger door open before Simon can hop out and open it for you. He comes around the front of the vehicle as you shut the car door. “Are we checking on the animals?” you ask, hopefulness in your tone.
Simon chuckles. “Absolutely not. Think I know how?”
“No,” you reply automatically, laughing. Your grin is infectious, and Simon cannot help but match it.
“You have so little faith in me?” he teases, placing one hand above the passenger window, creating a barrier between you and the house.
Simon leans in and grins when he receives the reaction he wants. You’re flustered and sweet, your gaze darting from his face to his chest in embarrassment.
“Never,” you murmur, lips parting slightly.
Your pupils widen and Simon has to swallow down a growl. Just a few more minutes, and the two of you will be where you need to.
Simon pushes off from the car and nods toward the house, walking backward. You follow, clearly eager. The main house is single-level, rectangular, and made of gray stone. The cottage is similar but boxy, housing a single room instead of several.
Approaching the front door, Simon begins lifting the edges of rocks that make up the flower bed with the toe of his boot. Usually someone is always here when Simon comes for a visit and all that’s required is just a knock on the door. But whenever the farm sits empty, a key is placed under a rock, and it is a hunt in finding where it is. The key is never in the same place twice and Johnny always forgets to remind Simon where it might be located.
A flash of metal catches Simon’s attention. He overturns the rock and bends down, snagging the key, jostling the rock back into place with his boot. Simon slides the key into the lock, and the door gives. Simon enters and you follow on his heels.
Simon loves this house. It’s cozy and comfortable. A true home. He’s spent many Christmases here, sleeping on the lumpy sofa and stuffing his face at the large wooden dining table. Hesitantly, you step forward as Simon tosses the key on the kitchen counter.
“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, turning in Simon’s direction.
Simon shakes his head. “Just checking that windows are locked. I’ll walk the exterior after.”
You nod, slipping your hands into your coat pockets, strolling further into the house. Simon starts in the interior room before moving on to the bedrooms and bathroom. Everything is secure. Nothing is out of place, but the lock in the main bedroom is loose.
“Simon,” you call out. He tenses slightly at your raised voice but you don’t sound nervous or afraid.
Cautiously, he reenters the main room. You’re standing in front of the fridge. When Simon appears, you glance at him, the corners of your mouth turning upward into a bemused expression.
“What is it?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.
Your head slowly swivels back to the fridge and that is when he notices a small piece of paper attached to it by a magnet.
“Simon,” you begin, reading from the paper. “I’ve stocked the fridge with all your favorites. Harold is taking care of the animals. Heard you’re bringing a lady friend. Hope you bring her at Christmas.” You turn back to Simon, one eyebrow arched in question.
Bloody hell.
The next time Simon sees Johnny, he’s strangling him.
“It also says to strip the bed before we leave if we—” you glance back at the note, “make a mess.”
Johnny, you’re a dead man.
Simon nearly chokes at that last bit. “It doesn’t say that,” he grumbles, striding forward to snatch the note off the fridge. Simon turns the paper over, revealing a familiar sprawling cursive. That is Johnny’s mother’s handwriting. He reads over it and then crosses his arms over his chest, staring you down.
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you giggle uncontrollably.
“You’re fucking done,” he says, pointing in your direction before folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. Simon tries to keep a serious demeanor but utterly fails. He’s grinning too as he rummages around for the toolbox under the sink.
After fixing the lock, Simon takes a lap around the perimeter of the house. Finding nothing, the two of you return to the car and head out to the cottage. It isn’t far and the dirt road that leads to it borders the pastures.
The cottage is a near replica of the main house. It too is made of stone with a small flower bed out front.
“Is this where we’re staying?” you ask as Simon opens the boot and removes the bags.
“You like it?”
“It’s lovely, Simon.” Your gaze softens. “Thank you.”
His heart stops and then melts, becoming liquid in his chest. “We both needed a break.”
You nod. “We did.” Your glance at the bags hanging off his shoulder. “I can take mine.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, pushing right past you and to the door.
You are not lifting a finger this entire trip. Simon won’t allow it. If you need anything, he will provide it.
Simon has the key in the door before you can form a protest. You’re grumbling behind him, but Simon ignores you, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Slowly, Simon slips the bags off his shoulder and places them at his feet.
Like the main house, the cottage is old. It’s seen two world wars, rebellions, and invasions. While the exterior hasn’t changed much, the interior has been updated to accommodate modern amenities. It consists of one large room and a small bathroom. Across from the entry door, on the other side of the room, is the hearth. It is the focal point of the room, and other than some general upkeep, it hasn’t changed since it was first built. Simon could comfortably crouch inside it and still have room to move.
Simon can build a fire in it, but he cannot fucking cook with it. Johnny’s mother certainly passed on her knowledge but it never stuck. Thankfully, there’s an actual fucking oven. The kitchen area itself is relatively small with limited counter space and a small fridge. Next to that is a tiny breakfast table that segways into a little sitting area with an armchair and sofa that seats two.
Directly inside the door to Simon’s left is the bathroom, and to his right is the bed. Its wood frame is weathered but sturdy.
“This is where we’re staying?” you ask softly, as if you don’t believe it to be true.
“Until Wednesday,” answers Simon, suddenly nervous.
Do you like it? Is it enough?
Simon cannot see your face. You’re turned away from him, walking further into the room. He stands awkwardly near the door, and the only thing in his head is how much he desires your approval. This trip isn’t much, but it’s something.
When you remove your coat and shiver, Simon’s response is immediate. “I’ll start the fire.” Grabbing the wool blanket off the bed, Simon unfolds it and holds it at your shoulders for you to accept.
This time, Simon finally sees your face, and the softness in your features dissolves any doubts. You are happy, and when your gaze meets his, Simon is momentarily lost, delving into your endlessness.
And yet again, Simon’s movements do not register until he is already reaching for you.
He drapes the wool blanket over your shoulders and then wraps you up in it, pulling you against his chest as he does so. Simon does not ask. He does not hesitate. There is no trepidation when he claims your lips. All Simon knows is that he wants this, wants you, and you are here with him.
No one can take you from him.
You open, and Simon advances. The second your taste finds his tongue Simon knows that he’ll slaughter anything and anyone who attempts to steal you away.
They will only know the shape of his fists.
They will only know the flavor of lead.
Suffering will be their sleep and their memory upon waking.
You are too good—too fucking sweet for Simon—and yet he’s never giving you up. Will never drop the addiction. If you leave, Simon can only follow.
The kiss deepens, your fingers finding the back of his neck. You’re smaller than him but you still try to show a bit of force. It’s cute how you’re pulling on him, telling Simon you crave more. Eagerness is pumping in your blood, and Simon is ready to explore that need. To understand and match it with his own.
He wants to fill his lungs with it.
Breathe you in so deep you’ll leave scars.
While Simon would love nothing more than to remove everything beneath the blanket, he needs to warm this place up and put some food in your belly.
Reluctantly, and with harrowing effort, Simon pries your fingers away from his neck. You whimper in response, and that sound goes straight to his dick. The sudden rush of blood is what snaps Simon out of his haze. When he draws back and notices your puffy, pouty lips and blown pupils, Simon nearly submits all over again.
But even that is not enough to completely shatter him.
“You’re distracting me,” he mumbles.
Your smile is gentle. “You’re the one who kissed me.”
Simon reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “Curl up on the sofa. I need to grab wood.”
“Let me help,” you say, tugging on his jacket.
“Rest. I’ve got this.”
Your palm goes flat against his chest before dropping away. It leaves a lingering warmth behind. Backing up, you plop onto the couch, bending forward to remove your shoes. Simon turns away quickly, running his fingers through his hair as if that will calm his racing heart.
He retrieves wood from the pile on the south side of the house, stacking it all next to the hearth. Removing the correct tools, Simon sets to work. It won’t take much to warm the room, and Simon gives just enough life to the fire to take care of other tasks. Given the right conditions, the fire will do what it needs to on its own.
Opening the fridge, Simon snorts. Johnny’s mother truly did stock it. She not only prepped for dinner but left plenty for breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea. Amongst all that are various snacks.
We won’t need to leave at all.
That is what Simon ultimately wanted, and it’s exactly what he’s receiving.
Simon begins heating the small oven and selects one of the prepared meals from the fridge. Johnny’s mother even left a couple bottles of wine and a small bottle of scotch on the counter. While Simon loves a strong drink, he prefers Kentucky bourbon, but he won’t turn down what’s freely offered.
By the time the two of you finish a bottle of wine and dinner, it’s dark out. Simon shutters the windows, cleaning up the cutlery and wine glasses before joining you on the sofa. The old thing sags under his weight but it’s comfortable, and you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his arm.
Simon doesn’t feel anything but contentment. He’s like white linen hanging on a clothesline under the summer sun. No cares. No worries. There is nothing but you and him and this cottage for the next few days.
Shifting in his arms, you look up at him, your chin slightly digging into his shoulder. Simon glances down at you, and without hesitation, places his large palm against the side of your throat, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.
“Ready for bed, love?” Simon means sleep, but that idea utterly vacates his brain when you swing your leg over his thighs. Still keeping his hand on your throat, you move from his right side to his lap. The wool blanket is still around your shoulders, and it falls open slightly as you raise both hands to rest against his chest.
“Simon.” His name on your tongue is honey-thick. “You know what I want.”
“I know,” he says, because it’s what he wants too.
Two months. Two months since he first saw you standing in the doorway of 141 Ink. He thought you a phantom, an illusion of the mind that happens to him sometimes. But you were real that day. You were real and fate brought you to him.
Simon has waited three fucking years for you.
And he’s going to make up for every missed second.
His hand drops from your neck only to settle on your hips. Simon squeezes, filling his grip with you, imagining when there will no longer be a barrier between his skin and yours. It’s what he’s been thinking of, what he’s been wanting, but that’s not the whole picture.
You are more than what you can offer him physically, and while that is the final piece, it’s not everything. Simon adores your kisses and kind smiles. He loves your silly jokes, and the sense of peace that comes with your presence. The instinct to protect and possess is a constant thing. It sits in the back of his head and between his rib bones.
A model relationship isn’t something Simon knows. He grew up with violence and made a career of it. Every person Simon has ever engaged with on an intimate level have always been quick and efficient affairs. Simple need fulfillment. Nothing more.
But this? With you?
It’s so much more. It goes beyond the bounds of reason. It is suffocating as much as it is lifegiving. There is no doubt in Simon’s mind about how he feels, only beautiful truth.
Your hands venture away from his chest. One comes to a rest in the muscled dip where his neck and shoulder meet. The other is low, nearly in his lap, toying with the end of his shirt like you want to delve underneath but aren’t sure if you should.
“Do you want me?” you ask, and Simon hears the gentle break.
Do you truly think he’ll reject you?
“Always,” he answers. “Constantly.”
Simon’s hands slide up to your waist, holding tight, drawing you closer. Your head tilts in invitation and Simon matches your movement. The connection is electric and yet completely comforting. This feeling is a tangled web of warmth and anticipation. It courses through Simon’s veins until it buzzes in the tips of his fingers.
Again and again, Simon is lost in you. The craving is unending. You press in, roll your hips, and Simon snaps. Breaking the kiss, Simon grasps the nape of your neck. The gasp you release upon separation heats his blood.
“We need to talk first,” he says.
You whimper and try to return to him, but Simon’s grip is firm. He doesn’t want to deny you this but the two of you need to discuss protection before anything continues.
“Listen to me, love,” coos Simon. Your gaze goes from his lips to his eyes. “If we’re doing this, I want no barriers.”
The middle of your brow creases in confusion. “You have me, Simon. Completely.”
Simon shakes his head. His left hand falls away from your waist and slides over the curve of your ass, dipping between your spread thighs. Pausing, Simon cups your pussy and your eyelids flutter with pleasure.
“No barriers,” he repeats, pressing slightly until you make a sound in your throat that shoots a bolt of need to his dick. “That’s what I want.” Your gaze darts over his face, but you don’t say anything.
The silence is excruciating, and he needs an answer. “Do you want that?” he asks, even as the uncertainty of your answer bites at his resolve.
If you say no, it’s not a big fucking deal. Simon packed an entire box of condoms for this very reason. Whatever you decide, he’ll respect it, but he just needs to know. Because whatever you tell him, the two of you will need to make a plan moving forward.
Simon will fuck you bare. He wants you dripping with him. To see it between your legs and know that you belong to him.
“Simon.”
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
Fucking hell.
“Yes, what?” he prompts.
“I want you,” you breathe. “No barriers.”
Simon removes his hand from between your thighs. “Are you sure, love? Don’t say yes just for me.” His fingers tighten slightly on your neck, and your eyelids flutter in response. “Not looking to put a baby in you.”
Not yet.
The unspoken words hang in front of his eyes, and Simon freezes.
Fuck.
Not yet. Not. Yet. Why the fuck did he think that? Why is his head even considering that as an option?
Because it’s true, even if Simon has only given the idea a few seconds of consideration. When Amelia showed Simon the photo of you holding Lillian, he couldn’t help himself. He imagined the small infant as yours. The one he’d have with you. Wanting a child is not something Simon has ever entertained, but then again, he didn’t have you in his life.
Pieces of him—pieces that were nothing more than scattered fractures—are beginning to reform. They’re finding each other, fusing, collectively forming the image that is Simon.
It is happening.
Slowly. But happening.
He is finding himself in the void.
“Is that something you want?
Your question pulls Simon right out of his silent musings. He considers his next words carefully.
“It’s on the table.” Because it is, but only if you want it. “In the future,” he amends, making it clear that is not what he wants at this particular moment.
Even if he did where would the infant go in his flat? There isn’t any fucking room.
You simply nod and say nothing. Simon senses an unease radiating off you but he’s not entirely sure why and it’s unclear if he should push the topic.
“You on birth control?” he asks, deciding it’s better to receive verbal confirmation.
“I am,” you reply.
Simon sighs audibly and squeezes your thighs. “Good.”
You smile coyly. “You’re very sweaty all of a sudden, Simon. Are you nervous?”
Simon swallows and his salvia sticks in his throat. He coughs, almost chokes. “What?”
“Your cheeks are flushed.” The backs of your knuckles graze the line of his jaw. “Haven’t seen that before,” you murmur, almost as if you’re speaking to yourself and not to him.
“Come here,” growls Simon, pulling you in for a kiss to cover up whatever has caught your attention.
You giggle, playfully swatting at him, only to soften with each lingering kiss. Your muscles relax, and you melt into him, lengthening and deepening each meeting until you’re pliant in his arms again.
This is how it should be.
You become absorbed in him, and Simon revels in it. All this time, all these years, Simon believed his need for you was entirely one-sided. But with you in his lap, and your hunger flaring hot, Simon understands that you just as desperate.
Squirming, you tug on the front of Simon’s shirt as if you can pull him closer. “I want you inside me, Simon.”
You say these words against his lips, branding his flesh with your desire. Sweet victory roars beneath his skin like an animal. Simon is going to fuck you senseless. Take you over and on every possible surface.
“How, love?” he replies. “Use your words.”
When you answer, it is with shaky breath. “No barrier. Want you. Only you, Simon.”
Using just his hold on your neck, Simon draws you back to him. The kiss is chaste, more of a whisper against skin. “Can I come inside you?” Simon flexes his hips upward, rubbing his growing need against your covered pussy.
Your own hips answer back, arching into his touch as you beg. “Please.”
“That’s my good girl,” he purrs as he gives you what you need.
Why are these kisses so much sweeter? So much more addictive?
Simon craves another the moment the last one is done, as if the second they stop he’ll lose them forever. This desperation makes a home in his stomach, filling him with a smoldering demand to completely possess every part of you. Like a feral beast, Simon awakens, seeking his meal.
Without losing his hold on the nape of your neck, Simon removes the wool blanket from around your shoulders. He discards it to the side, not caring where it lands. Returning to your mouth, Simon seeks and tastes until everything within him shatters.
He is made of splintered bones, and you are the adhesive glue that will fuse him back together. To achieve that, Simon needs renewal, a blessing of your flesh.
Your top and bra are only simple obstacles. They surrender to him easily, and neither of you gives either item a second thought. It is meaningless now.
There is only bare skin against bare skin.
Simon’s palm explores, running up and down your stomach to the valley between your breasts. Everything is touched. Everything is savored until his blood roars in his ears.
Groaning, Simon forces himself to release that lovely mouth. He aches until he finds you again. Simon’s head dips, lips brushing against your throat. The kisses he leaves along the line of your neck are simple things that slowly shift and ebb, transforming into playful nips that turn to claiming bites.
Your fingers find his hair, threading and tangling, pulling slightly until Simon growls. The hold you have on him is pleasurable as much as it borders on pain. He moves lower, and it’s an odd fucking angle, but Simon doesn’t give a shit. Every inch of you deserves his mouth. When his lips skim just above your right breast, you instinctually lean back, giving Simon better access.
Simon runs his tongue over and around your nipple. You shiver in his arms, fingers lightly digging into his scalp as he teases it to a hard peak. Once stiff, Simon switches to the other, giving it just as much attention.
But it is not enough.
Sliding his hands to the backs of your thighs, Simon lifts you up as he stands. Your arms immediately lock around his neck as your ankles cross behind his back. The fact that he doesn’t need to instruct you in this pleases him.
Simon travels from the couch to the bed, and this one action reminds him of Riot Room when he lifted you in the air and bounced you on his cock. He was observing the expressions on your face as you watched him enter and exit your body. Witnessing that was fucking bliss.
He’ll do that again. But not yet.
At the edge of the bed, Simon eases you down onto the comforter. While your legs come to the bed, your hands take longer to retreat. Your fingers linger, nails lightly dragging across the back of his neck and then down the front of his chest.
Simon lets you have this.
But once you completely fall back onto the bed, Simon’s resolve is absolute.
He doesn’t demand or ask.
Like your top and bra, Simon simply grabs and tugs until you’re in nothing but your underwear. His fingers trace up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs momentarily before his hands drop away.
You’re fucking beautiful like this. A banquet. A feast he’s about to gorge himself on.
Leaning back on your forearms, your bare chest is completely exposed, breasts pushed forward in his direction. Your nipples are still hard and raw from his mouth, and Simon has to bite back a groan at the sight.
There is plenty of time to enjoy all of you. Simon needs to get a fucking hold on himself before he pushes your legs wide and buries himself without a thought for you. His blood is electrified, buzzing until it bounces around in frenzy, attempting to convince Simon to claim you until there is no doubt who it is you belong to.
He needs to slow the fuck down. Wednesday is the day the two of you return to civilization, and neither of you are leaving this cottage until then. There is only him and you and this bed.
Slowly, Simon returns his hands to your legs. He begins at your ankles, roaming up your shins and then your knees, sliding down your thighs to stop at the band of your underwear. He considers them a moment and then roughly fists the fabric. In two quick tugs, Simon has them down and around your ankles.
“You don’t need these,” he says, tugging one last time and tossing them aside.
Much better.
Your lips part and your thighs quiver. Simon’s mouth salivates from that alone. All this time, and you crave him just as much. Pride swells in his chest with the knowledge that you want to be here, and that you want this with him.
“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward Simon.
Here you are, naked and on your back, and Simon hasn’t taken off a single fucking thing. His mind was too focused on stripping you down than thinking of himself.
To answer your question, Simon reaches behind him with one hand, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Yanking it up over his head, Simon tosses the shirt to the side, leaving him in only his jeans and black socks.
“Better?” he asks, extending his hands outward slightly.
You nod, pink tongue darting out just before you nibble on your bottom lip.
Simon draws his hands back to his sides, turning them into clenched fists as a small tremor hits him causing his hands to shake. He’s worked up, and his cock fucking aches, but no matter how much he’d love to spread you wide to pound into you, your pleasure is just as important.
You’re not taking anything until you’re prepped and ready for it.
“Spread those gorgeous thighs for me,” he commands through clenched teeth. Simon watches as you part them slightly, but it isn’t nearly enough. You’re still hidden from him.
“More,” demands Simon, desperately needing to see that sweet pussy.
Again, you part your legs further, feet sliding across the bedding, but it’s still short of what Simon is after. He needs to wide. Completely open.
“No. Like this.” Simon slides his hands between and forces your thighs apart until he can see fucking everything.
The sight of you steals the oxygen from his lungs.
You are glossy. Slick. Wanton.
Fucking hell.
Simon is going to devour you.
taglist:
@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf
@miaraei @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @childofyuggoth @glassgulls
@wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @creamwhxre
@pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem
@enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus
@josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82
@no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties
@darling006 @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict
@beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21
@makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi
#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x fem!reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley fluff#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley fic#simon riley fanfiction#simon riley fluff#simon riley fanfic#simon riley smut#simon riley x fem!reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfiction#ghost fic#simon ghost smut#ghost smut#ghost x f!reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
The List ~Pt. 10 - Convergence~
Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader
Summary: The fight with Vox triggers memories of your life on Earth, but a familiar voice calls to you. When you wake, you find an unexpected hand has helped you but of course their aid comes with a catch. More secrets are brought to light and you must choose whose side you're truly on.
Themes: Huge warning for depictions of war/ bombings/ injuries/ death. With everything going on in the world I understand if it is hard to read so feel free to skip the ~8 ish paragraphs.
The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, mentions of blood/bodily harm, slow burn, Lucifer can't take a hint, Alastor is full of surprises, eventual smut, and of course 18+
3k Words
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (You're on it!)
**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader
Like a movie, you watch different places around the world flash before your eyes. Each scene, you’re surrounded by the same small group of people. A feeling of pride filled your body when you looked at them. Are these people my family? They feel like it. You knew you’d do anything to protect them.
~~I’m here love…
A final flash puts you at an eerily familiar scene. You sit at the end of a small table, watching everyone laughing, eating, singing - just enjoying the down time together. The sound of an air siren puts an immediate silence over the tent. All eyes snap to you, waiting for your guidance. You stand from your chair, “Alright just like training guys, take your assigned positions around the camp and keep a clear - “, ringing pierces your ears as everything goes black.
~~You’re stronger than this…
In what feels like a second, you are lying face down on the warm ground. How long was I down for? Pushing yourself to your knees, you watch blood from your face make little droplets in the dirt below you. Dust and smoke fill the air, burning your lungs when you try to take a breath. Fuck…Where is everyone? You look at what remains of the camp around you. Piles of brick, wood, and rock litter the area. The night around you is hauntingly silent, interrupted only by the occasional pop of electricity from what remained of the generators. As the dust begins to settle, you’re able to make out multiple sets of boots under rubble nearby. No…no...no…no please...
You attempt to run towards them but stumble back to the ground. A mix of dirt and blood coat the front of your uniform. Other than the pain in your side, you have no way of knowing the true extent of your injuries as a numbness washes over you.
~~Fight…please my dear…
Sounds of tumbling brick and coughing distract you from your self-evaluation. You crawl towards the sound and find a man trying to sit up, pushing away the rubble that buried his lower body. “Thank God, you have no idea how relieved I am to - “, an involuntary gasp leaves your mouth when you see the piece of metal sticking right through him.
He half-heartedly laughs, “I was going to make some smartass comment like - How bad is it doc? Think I’ll be home for dinner? - but uh…I think that answered my question.” Fucker always had to make jokes, even the face of death.
“No it’s not..It’s not that bad. I just need to find my bag, I can stop the bleeding….just…k-keep talking to me.” Your hands fumble across his chest. You try to apply pressure while your eyes frantically scan the area for your medical bag, but Lord only knows where it ended up after the explosion.
~~Please…we need you…
Warmth continues to spread under you, his blood now staining your hands and arms. He grabs your hands, stopping your efforts and gently setting them on his face, “Don’t do this - ya know how it’s going to end.” A single tear slips past your lashes and down your cheek. His breathing begins to labor, “Hey now boss lady, no cryin’. We all knew what we signed up for. This ain’t your fault.”
~~I need you…
A deafening sound fills the air followed by a blinding flash of white light.
Your eyes bolt open as you sit up gasping for air. Alastor nearly jumps out of his chair, hastily sitting himself behind you in bed to wrap his body around yours, “I’m here, dear. Breathe. You’re safe.” You try to relax in his arms while your mind reels. Was that a dream? A memory? Is that…how I died?
You look down remembering the fight with Vox. Other than a few blood stained cotton bandages, you appear to be mostly healed. “How -?” you begin to ask. Alastor tightens his grip on you, making you wince from the pressure on your still healing wounds. “Please…just…give me a moment.” he begs quietly into your neck. You feel his chest rise and fall against you with ragged breaths. If it was anyone other than Alastor, you would think he was crying.
Gentle sounds from the wooded bayou fill the room. After a few moments, he breaks the peaceful silence, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” he breathes through a raspy voice. You lean your head back to look up at the demon. He looked just as rough as he did that night in the tower.
You bring your hand to his cheek and pull him into a tender embrace against your lips. He sighs into your mouth as his body relaxes. He needed to feel you, to know you weren’t gone. The corners of your mouth curl into a smile, “I don’t know how but I heard your voice…through the darkness you were calling to me. Even as I dreamt of my life on Earth.” Alastor huffs amusingly, “My dear, I never left your side. Charlie said talking to you might help. I thought it was silly really but I was willing to try anything. Good to know my efforts weren’t in vain.”
Alastor delicately brushes his fingers through your hair, “I didn’t think it was possible to feel something worse than the initial fall into Hell, but you seem to enjoy keeping me on my toes. As much as I hate to say it, you might not have made it if Lucifer hadn’t -”
“Lucifer!?” you yell in surprise at how casually Alastor mentions him, “Why would he bother saving me?” A few taps on the door interrupt before you can get an answer. Without waiting for a response, Lucifer walks into the room, “Ah good you’re awake.” he chirps casually.
You swing yourself to the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand but Alastor keeps a firm hold on your hips, slotting you between his legs to keep you sitting. He scolds quietly in your ear “Easy love, let’s not move too quickly. You’re still healing.”
Lucifer makes his way across the room, puffing his chest out arrogantly as he leans against his cane, “There were only a few wounds I couldn’t get completely healed but you seem to be a strong one! Of course someone had their doubts.” he glares at Alastor, lip nearing a snarl.
He did help when he didn’t need to, ulterior motives or not I should be grateful. You muster a smile and cool tone, “Well you did wonderful, sir. I am feeling pretty good to be honest. Thank you. I suppose I owe you.” What the fuck did I just say?
Alastor exhales against your neck and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you curse at him under your breath. It didn’t help how smug Lucifer suddenly looked. He nonchalantly fiddles with his suit, “Well we do have some private matters to discuss. If you’re feeling up to it of course.” No but do I have a choice?
“Sure! What’s going on?”
“I uh - would prefer there to not be an audience, if you don’t mind.” Lucifer shuffles his cane to his other hand. Your chest hitches at the request. I rather not be alone with this man right now. Alastor notices your apprehension, “Anything you have to discuss can be said in my company. You have quite a nasty habit of putting your hands - amongst other things - where they don’t belong.” his tone cut with such sharpness even the well collected King looked visibly uncomfortable. You feel him disappear from behind you only to reappear in a chair by the fire behind Lucifer, “You may continue sir.”
Lucifer scoffs but doesn’t speak right away. You fumble nervously with your hands as his eyes burn into you. Chills creep across your skin from the tension filling the room.
“Soooooo - what did you need to speak about, sir?” you ask wearily, wanting to get this conversation over with. “I told you to call me Lucifer,” he takes a seat next to you on the bed, “And I think you know damn well what we need to talk about.” his once sickeningly sweet voice now harsh with ire.
Cool, nothing like pissing off the King of Hell. You try to hide the anxiety building in your chest, “Lucifer, I appreciate your offer from the other day however I am staying here. With the sinners and with Alastor. I am capable of -”
“Yes, yes - you looked quite capable as you were dying in my arms just a few nights ago!” he bites, “Do you think you’re of any use to the people you claim to want to help if you’re dead? Do you think he will actually support you in your efforts?” his eyes dart to the demon across the room.
“Oh and you will!? You want to keep me like a pet in your little castle! Remind me, how did wanting such things from Lilith turn out for you?”
An unsettling smile crosses his face, making a pit form in your stomach, “You tread on thin ice my dear. If you wish to take low blows, fine. You’re naive to think he actually loves you. You said yourself, he just wants to use you -”
“I was wrong. I was only naive to think you did not want to use me.” you interrupt plainly. R̷͈̈u̸̦͌l̸͍̍e̴͔̅ ̷͉͛#̸̗͒1̶͍͂ ̵̮̐B̵̬̊e̷͖͐ ̵̡́o̵̡̿p̵͎͂e̴̢̋n̷̡̆ ̵͚̋t̵͕͠o̵͔̽ ̵̺̉t̶̰͗ȓ̴̠ů̷̹s̶̩̄t̴̙̅,̸̈́͜ ̶͉̓b̶̘͗ǔ̵̮t̶̯̂ ̸̝̿n̴̳̍ȅ̷͔ṿ̵̀e̴̗̾r̸̨̔ ̵̻͒ḑ̶̾ǫ̴̉ ̴͎̉ś̴̤ō̴̩ ̴̣̒b̶͉͠ḻ̸͗i̶̳̽ṋ̷̀d̶͉͒ĺ̵̘y̸̙̕
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, “I - I don’t know what you mean. I - I saved you. I protected you when - when he couldn’t. Of course I would have never allowed you to get hurt in the first place.” Alastor clears his throat and shifts in his chair, using every ounce of restraint to not lose his tongue. His eyes pinpoint to Lucifer through a sharp grin.
I’m not the only one on thin ice here. “I appreciate you helping me, truly. But I think we both know deep down…you’re scared. You’re weaker than you let on. Locking yourself away, ignoring your duties. Without Lilith you’ve become just a shell of the ruler you once were. And, not to sound arrogant, but I get the feeling you think I can somehow change that.”
Lucifer’s look softens and he takes your hand, eyes glued to his thumb tracing across your palm, “I’ll admit there’s some truth to your words. She was my strength. She knew how to lead better than I ever could. The city has gone to shit without her. But…” his other hand cups your cheek as he meets your gaze, “...you can change all of that. Standing by me, you can do so much good for our people. Isn’t that what you want?” his words seem to plead with you. You hear a crack from Alastor’s grip tightening on the arms of his chair.
You shoot a glance at him, silently asking him to calm down. With a gentle touch, you take Lucifer’s wrist to remove his hand from your face, “I want to save souls, Lucifer. Charlie’s dream is incredible and I plan on helping her see it through. I do not wish to assist in the rule of Hell.” You say soft but stern, trying to make him understand. He stands abruptly to look down at you, “Does this demon share these same sentiments?”
Fuck he does NOT let up. “I don’t understand. Why are you so against him!?” you raise your voice making the Radio Demon’s ears twitch.
Lucifer kneels in front of you, tightly gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me…” Alastor stands to say something but you raise a hand to stop him. You wince as slender fingers dig deeper into your skin and the King’s voice darkens to a whisper, “He will never stop trying to gain more power. You want to save souls yet you stand by someone who would sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wants. You help bring him to power…and he will destroy everything. You, me, Charlie…He - won’t - stop.”
Your heart pounds against your chest, fighting against the thoughts racing through your mind, “How are you so sure about his intentions?” you squeak out. He gently brushes some hair away from your face, “My sweet girl, there are darker secrets to him than you know. Secrets, I fear, that will destroy you.”
“That is enough.” Alastor’s voice warns with a heavy static.
Lucifer angrily stands back up, bringing you to your feet with him, “Why can’t you just trust me? Have I not proven myself enough? He will take away everything.” Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to keep him from getting any closer, “Please, stop! He -”
The lights of the room begin to flicker. Alastor grabs Lucifer away from you by his jacket collar and pins him against the wall, “I said that was enough.” he spits. The two men snarl nose to nose before Lucifer lets out a jarring laugh, “Oh-ho - so she really doesn’t know? How far are you going to try and bury the truth?” he peeks over Alastor’s shoulder to you, “See my dear this is what I mean. If he truly loved you, he would have been honest about his - situation.”
Alastor pulls back and slams Lucifer’s smaller body against the wall again, seething through gritted teeth, “You have no right to -”
“W-what is he talking about?” You brace yourself against the bedpost and take a step towards them. Lucifer shoves Alastor off, sending the pissed off demon half way across the room. His body hits the wooden floor hard enough for the planks to creak beneath him. He half-heartedly struggles to pull himself up onto one knee, panting like a dog about to attack.
Lucifer saunters over to you. You hear a low growl from Alastor as he watches the small King move his hands over your waist and his lips to your ear, “His soul is bound to another. He only needs you because your power combined can break him free. And what do you think he’ll do the moment he is unchained?” he breathes through a wicked smile. Your entire body tenses, both from shock and how intimately his hands run against you.
He gives a coy chuckle, raising his voice to ensure Alastor hears him, “Come see me tomorrow. Alone. We can speak further on how you can repay me for helping you.” with a flick of his wrist his cane flies into his hand. You flinch as he presses a kiss to your cheek before disappearing behind his red ribbons.
Alastor remains frozen, kneeling in the middle of the room. His eyes stare into you while flickering between red and black dials. You can’t tell if he’s about to explode or break down. Although a hundred questions are running through your mind, you know better than to poke an already agitated bear or in this case, deer.
In a moment where you should be angry or confused, where you should yell and scream, you instead do something that takes both yourself and Alastor by surprise. Ignoring the pain and soreness in your body, you drop to your knees in front of him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He moves his hands up but hesitates before touching you. “Wha-what are you doing?” he asks with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
Within an instant, a plan forms in your head. This is going to get messy. But it’s the only way to protect me…and protect us. R̶͚̀u̷͍̿l̷̦͛ȅ̸̥ ̸͔̀#̷͇̿4̶̫͝ ̴̧̌Ț̶̈ù̷̫r̸͓̃ǹ̷̩ ̸̘̚y̴͔͊ò̵͜u̸͙͝r̸͜͠ ̶́͜w̸̮̉ẻ̴͚á̵͚k̶͎͌n̵̘͛e̶̪͐s̵̜͝s̵̛̤ ̸̼̋ĩ̸̭n̴̘̈t̷͙̎o̴̡̓ ̵̩͌ŝ̷͉t̴̺̊r̴͈̍e̶̡̔n̷̝̓g̶̭̚t̴̺̓h̸̩̓
You pull him closer and run a hand up into his hair, caressing the back of his head, “You already know the questions I have and I fully expect answers. However, at this moment, I only need to know one thing…” you move away to rest his head in your hands, forcing his crimson stare to you, “...if I help you to break your deal, are you willing to keep your chains and bind your soul to me?” Your tone is serious but affectionate. He needs to know I’m not asking from a place of selfishness. Ȓ̸̤u̷̞͗l̶̫͂e̸̛̩ ̴̬͝#̴̼̒3̶̙͝ ̷̣͂K̵̜̓e̴̘̽ë̶̤́p̸̳͑ ̷̣͘t̷̥͆ẖ̸͐o̶͉̐s̷͗͜e̷̛̻ ̵̪̍y̴͎͗ǒ̴͎u̵͘ͅ ̸͇́ĺ̵̮ö̴̧v̴̩̏ę̷̀ ̷̝̋c̸͠ͅl̶̫͑o̸͈͆s̴̟͠ë̵̢́
“Yes.” he says without hesitation. His immediate response takes you aback. The last thing you expected was the ‘all powerful’ Radio Demon to give into your request without a second thought. For a moment you are left completely speechless.
Unassured by your lack of response, Alastor places his hands over yours, “You’ve already managed to obtain my heart and my mind. The second my deal is broken, I will give you my soul. I will give you everything.” Your heart flutters at his words.
There isn’t a single hint of anger or regret in his voice. His eyes lock to yours as he peppers kisses into your palm and down your wrist. The image takes you back to the first night you spent with him just months prior. That night he looked hungry and desperate but now there’s nothing but devotion, a silent plea for your trust.
You can’t fight the heat rising in your face from his affection. He always has a way of clearing your mind yet clouding it all at once. You’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart from his willingness to give everything to you. Well phase one of this plan is already going swimmingly. He cocks an eyebrow at how smug you suddenly look, reading you like an open book, “What schemes are you concocting behind those eyes?”
You lightly peck his forehead, then his nose, stopping just above his lips. A sly grin spreads across your face, “I have a plan but you’re not going to like it.” He rolls his eyes and groans, “It involves Lucifer, doesn’t it?”
He helps you to your feet and pulls you into him. Your hands rest perfectly against his broad chest as you smile up at him without an answer. His eyes close with a deep sigh, “My dear, I already do not like where I think this is going.” he mumbles, knowing you’ve already made up your mind.
You stand on your toes to give him a quick playful kiss, “I believe it’s time for me to go make a deal with the Devil.” R̸̢̉u̷͙̔l̷̺̇e̴̡͌ ̷̢̿#̶̠̍2̷͊͜ ̵̤̕D̷̦̐o̴̞̒n̷̠̈́’̷͔̆t̵̪̀ ̴̬̊b̸̺͋ẽ̶͈ ̴̣͘a̴͚͋f̶͔͗ṙ̶͔a̵̻̕i̸̪̾d̵̲̂ ̸̙͗t̷̛̥o̸͕̐ ̸̟͊s̵̖̒h̸͔̊ö̷͇́ẃ̶ͅ ̷̯̓y̸̭̔o̸̮͆u̴̠͐r̷͙͝ ̶͚͝p̵͔͌ǫ̷̛w̵͔͝ė̶̝r̴͎̂
Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)
@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers
@alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @ohnah2022 @catticora
@eris-norwega @kaylopolis @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @laudrawin
@qu1cks1lversb1tch @diffidentphantom @rapturenyx @purplerose291 @mcntsee
#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor smut#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#slow burn#female reader#fem reader#x reader#reader insert#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox the tv demon#fanfic#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#radio demon#lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer x reader#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Petals of Affection - Part I
A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader
Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.
Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!
I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.
Word count: 4,284
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.
Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)
Hope you enjoy!
Part II | Part III | Masterlist
An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.
Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.
Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.
Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.
Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.
“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.
“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”
“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.
“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.
Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”
Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”
“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.
“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.
Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.
“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”
Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.
“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”
“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.
You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”
You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.
The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.
Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.
The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.
“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”
Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”
“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”
Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”
Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.
“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.
“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”
Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.
Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.
“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.
Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.
“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”
Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.
Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”
Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.
Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”
The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”
Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.
You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.
The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.
Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.
Did you even like this guy?
Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.
In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?
No, you guessed it really didn’t.
These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.
A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.
Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.
Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.
What did it mean?
Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.
Who in the world left this for you?
Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?
Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.
You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.
Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.
“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”
Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.
“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”
Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.
“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”
Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.
Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.
Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.
How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?
Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.
A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.
Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.
Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.
The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.
You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.
Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?
Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.
God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.
Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.
Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.
Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?
The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.
Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.
Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?
As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.
The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.
Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.
“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”
You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.
“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”
“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.
Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”
“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”
“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.
“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”
“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”
Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.
Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.
Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?
One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.
You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.
Lost in your scent, the answer is present.
“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”
Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.
“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”
“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”
“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.
“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”
“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”
Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.
Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”
“Right?”
“What do today’s flowers mean?”
“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.
Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”
Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”
Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”
tbc
#jettsflora&faunachallenge#writing challenge#joel miller#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel x female reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fandom#pedrostories
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
enhypen as the tortured poets department
pairings :: ot7 x gn!reader (if i accidentally slipped in a gender-related mistake please let me know!)
genres :: angst & fluff
warnings :: swearing, alcohol, mentions of food, sorta emotional cheating, reader being down bad ™️
word count :: 2.1k
author’s note :: thanks to ogs @sunoosill and @fandomgirl489 for helping me hehe love you guys! also i kind of tried something new with this one, they're actual little fics this time so let's see how it's recieved 😭 that being said i lowkey hate this. i started doubting all my choices once i was like 60% done but this took an embarrassingly long time. also this is unedited because i'm sick of this draft. i hope y'all enjoy though!
ni-ki as my boy only breaks his favorite toys
“i felt more when we played pretend than with all the kens cause he took my out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts, told me i’m better off, but i’m not”
ni-ki swept 👏 you 👏 off 👏 your 👏 feet 👏 when you first met
because he doesn't seem like he'd necessarily approach a relationship the same way as everyone else just because everyone else is doing it
so when he asked you out he was pretty nonchalant about it (even if that wasn’t how he was feeling)
&& it all felt so romantic because you’d do things like get dessert in the middle of the night & then drive into the hills together
especially because he didn’t treat you the same way as the other people he dated — a fact his friends confirmed.
he was passive about it all before you.
there wouldn’t be any doubt that he loved you because he most certainly did
not to be cliché but he made you see the world differently! & more importantly, he made you see romantic relationships differently
but you could tell that he had a sense of uncertainty around you
not because he was uncertain about his feelings for you
but an uncertainty that told him that he needed to spend each moment like it could be taken away from him in the blink of an eye
he knew he was feeling too much — he knew you were feeling too much
because ultimately, he was unsure about whether he was right for you.
so he left you, promising that you’d be better off without him.
you weren’t.
sunoo as down bad
“for a moment i knew cosmic love, now i’m down bad, crying at the gym”
sunoo would be such a good boyfriend on paper
he'd buy you flowers & give great hugs, of course, but he'd also be supportive & reassure you when you felt insecure and unsure about your place in the world
that being said, sunoo is not one to string people along
so the moment he realized that he wasn’t 100% in, he made a plan to end things & he did.
&&...losing sunoo fucked you up. it would fuck anyone up, to be fair.
finding out that he was leaving you when the relationship was everything to you would catch you off guard, to say the least.
he probably left feeling proud of himself for doing everything right too LMAO 😭
&& yes, i don't think it's anything he did that made it so bad
it's just that break-ups suck & you really loved him! even if he “did everything right”
no matter how it transpired, you were still in shambles at the end
you broke down in tears at the sight of anything that made you think of him
from the smell of gardenias in a grocery store
‘he bought me those 🤧! for our first anniversary 🤧!’
to the most upbeat song you’ve ever heard coming on shuffle while you work out
‘he loved that song’ (even if you couldn’t stand it)
&& you really hoped he was feeling a shred of what you were
but it sure as hell didn’t seem that way.
jungwon as fresh out the slammer
“all those nights, you kept me going, swirled you into all of my poems”
you & jungwon had a lot of your own problems to deal with the first time you dated
likely because he had a lot on his plate at the time as an idol & you were just at different places in your lives
&& even though your brain was telling you not to, you fell in love fast
he’d taken you to a quiet spot in his hometown that he used to go to when he was overwhelmed as a kid
it was an old swingset at the park where, somehow, everything else had been renovated
the two of you sat there for hours with your hands entwined, talking about your futures
&& the possibility of them ending in the same place.
it felt childish & implausible, but you wanted to believe it
&&, as the break up proved to you, it was, in fact, childish & implausible to believe that your lives could magically become compatible
you tried to move on, you really did. you dated other people for years.
one boyfriend stuck around for four years. a coworker. your future with him felt written in stone.
he was good to you, but there was a part of your heart that yearned for more
the part that yearned for the type of connection you had on the swingset all those years ago
you didn't spend that time waiting for jungwon — you accepted that you were going to spend your life content with your boyfriend
but you sometimes thought about what it would be like if you met jungwon under different circumstances or another life where his career wasn’t so controlling and demanding of him
you would smile listening to his music (that you subconsciously hoped was about you)
&& checked how he was doing online periodically
but then you were single. it was something your boyfriend said about not seeing a future here. not seeing a future with you. when you gave him four years of your life.
you knew you should have felt more, that you should have been torn apart for months
but a week later, you picked up the phone & dialed the number that had been seared into your brain for six years
“y/n?”
his voice was almost a whisper.
“do you think you could take me to that park again tonight?”
“i’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
“thank you.”
“y/n?”
“yeah?”
“i missed you.”
heeseung as the alchemy
“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”
when you started dating heeseung, you knew it would be really easy for him to put you low on his priority list being an idol
&& you wouldn’t have blamed him for that
because your careers are important, especially at this point in your lives (also your exes probably did that with much less demanding jobs)
but he didn’t! he told you it would be tough but that he’d try his best to make sure you had time together even with his insane packed schedule
&& try he did omg 🤭 that man put in the WORK
he would show up towards the end of your workday just to whisk you off on a date 🫶
which you not-so-secretly loved for two reasons:
one: it reminded you that he loved you & valued your career as much as you valued his
two: he’s really hot. so it’s fun to see everyone’s reaction to him showing up heehee
&& after your workday he’d take you wherever you wanted
but you’re indecisive at times, so he’d just guess sometimes.
it was usually your favorite restaurant or a massage parlor, but once he literally took you to the airport for a getaway? who knows what he has planned lmfao
you loved getting surprised by your boyfriend, of course, but the nights when you were at his concert to support him? those meant the world to you.
you swore that you’d never forget the look on his face when he realized you were in the crowd the first time you surprised him
but honestly? his excitement never faltered. he still wears that childish grin every time he sees you showing up for him
&& the post concert kisses are incomparable to all the others
because he kisses you like you’re the stars in a rom-com. every. damn. time — whether it’s backstage or in front of 20,000 people.
jay as chloe or sam or sophia or marcus
“if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say ‘i loved you the way that you were’”
jay was hurting you
with every instagram post he uploaded with a woman you didn’t recognize,
at every red carpet appearance where he had someone else on his arm,
with every polite smile he greeted you with when you crossed paths.
you broke up with him. years ago, at that. you had no right to feel this way.
his mind seemed scattered in your time together & he was unsure about most everything
at first, it had seemed like you were the exception to that.
until you weren’t.
when you broke it off, you told him you loved him. & that maybe you always would.
he might have loved you.
but if that was the case, he never told you.
on occasion, you thought about how he felt seeing you date around aimlessly.
had he done the mature thing & moved on?
did his jaw clench seeing another man kiss you the same way it did before you dated?
did he care about what you were thinking as much as you did about him?
there were times that you’d stare at his contact, finger hovering above the ‘call’ button
almost hoping your finger would slip so you’d have the chance, the smallest chance to hear him say
“i loved you the way that you were.”
(i really want to write a oneshot about this actually? maybe?)
jake as so high school
“get my car door, isn’t that sweet, then pull me to the backseat, no one’s ever had me, not like you”
jake was so obsessed with you before y’all started dating HEHE probably from the first time that he had a conversation with you!
he was so enthralled by the way you think & see the world
&& he blushed and stumbled on his words every time he talked to you for months & his friends would tease him RELENTLESSLY
he got so nervous before following you on social media that he had to employ his friends to help.
“guys, just press it for me. i can’t look!”
he probably thought about asking you out on many occasions but chickened out for one reason or another every time
but then he saw you at the local convenience store while he was out getting ramen at 2 a.m. — or rather, you saw him.
"jake?" he'd know that voice anywhere. oh god oh god oh god oh god
he needed a moment to compose himself, but he pulled himself together enough to look up at you & greet you properly <3
his stress slipped away fairly fast after that & you found yourselves shopping for your respective midnight snacks together
"have you tried this one? it's probably my favorite limited edition flavor" you had said, pointing to your favorite candy
which, naturally, he responded to by pulling a handful into his basket 😚
you didn't know whether he wanted to try it because you liked it or he was buying it for you, but either way, you found it endearing
after you both paid, jake took your groceries in his other hand, declaring that he'd carry them to your car for you
which, of course, wasn't possible. you had walked.
😧...😟...😶...🤔...☝️😲 "i could give you a ride! i don't want you walking home alone at this hour. or i could call you an uber if you're not comf—"
"i'd really like that"
&& then his heart would damn near explode at the sight of your smile. because how could it not.
he fumbled with the bags before opening the passenger door for you
&& on the drive there he'd stare at you with heart eyes while you talked at every red light
you'd have to tell him it turned green because he was just so distracted hehe
oh my god not this being my second fic about jake driving you home,, 🫣 IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE I DON'T PLAN THESE I JUST GO WITH WHAT FEELS RIGHT
i'm just hilarious, this does not show anything about what i want irl, absolutely nothing.
sunghoon as i look in people’s windows
"what if your eyes looked up & met mine one more time?"
you & sunghoon had a mutual break up, but it didn't feel that way a month after it happened
especially not when you were walking alone down the street his friend lived on & noticed the light shining through the large window
contrary to what you told yourself (i don’t even care if he’s in there) you approached the warm light warily
you didn’t really know whether you were hoping to see him in there, but you did — he was laughing with a few people, glass of wine in hand
&&…you weren’t expecting a flood of memories to overcome you in the way they did.
memories from when you were invited. memories from when you called them “our” friends & not “his” friends. memories from when you were the one making him laugh.
you didn’t notice your mouth fall agape or the tears welling in your eyes until sunghoon met your gaze with a tilt of his head, his smile falling as he registered your presence
for a moment, your mind rushed to decipher the look on his face — the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, the way his mouth fell agape too — the same expressions you used to be able to read so well.
finally tearing your gaze from sunghoon, you noticed his friends turning back to look out for whatever it was that made their friend so unsettled
they never saw you. you ran before they could.
perhaps if you had stayed a moment longer, you would have heard the front door open.
txt version ☆ midnights version ☆ masterlist
#hoes4hoseok#enhypen#kpop imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#ni ki#nishimura riki#jungwon#yang jungwon#sunoo#kim sunoo#sunghoon#park sunghoon#jake enhypen#jake sim#jay enhypen#park jongseong#heeseung#lee heeseung#enhypen angst#enhypen x reader#taylor swift#enhypen headcanons#kim sunoo angst#park sunghoon angst#park jongseong angst#nishimura riki angst#yang jungwon angst#yang jungwon fluff
76 notes
·
View notes
Note
i mean i think it's fair to ask what show y'all are watching when you act like tommy's this amazingly well developed character and he and buck have this deep emotional connection lmao. the fact that people started shipping buddie by the end of 2x01 if not the second eddie showed up in buck's pov working out shirtless to 'whatta man' and nobody shipped bucktommy til that kiss should tell you which is the ship with an Actual instant attraction and emotional connection (on both sides) even if that first part was obviously unintentional and which is a random ship forced together for shock value that we're all supposed to cream ourselves over because of The Representation.
i can promise you no one acts like tommy is a well-developed character, and he and buck already share some deep emotional connection. what we do acknowledge, however, is the potential. and because plenty of people can see it, they simply choose to enjoy it.
people who started shipping buddie by the end of 2x01 ALSO only saw the potential. buck and eddie did not share any deep emotional connection by that point as well. what's funny is that eddie also wasn't a well-developed character yet too. but you don't seem to trash on people who started shipping them at that moment, why is that? if you want to criticize us, you should at least be consistent.
and also i'd argue there WERE people who started shipping (although perhaps "shipping" is too strong of a word so rather who did see something between) buck and tommy as soon as they shared this little moment at the end of 7x03. many people speculated if this was some kind of foreshadowing of a future relationship between the two of them. some even enjoyed the idea. so i don't think it's right to assume absolutely no one hoped for them to be canon before they kissed.
at the end of the day, the basic difference between buddie and bucktommy is that buddie is, and always has been, fanon, while bucktommy isn't. i'm really not interested in what little feelings of yours you assign to buddie. just because YOU think some moments between buck and eddie are romantic doesn't mean everyone thinks so. in fact many people interpret them as platonic. and that's the thing with buddie: there is no real evidence to prove their bond has any romantic elements to it. no acknowledgement of feelings, no kiss, nothing. neither buck nor eddie has canonically ever shown that one is romantically interested in the other. in canon they are just friends. and nothing you say will ever change that unless tim and co ultimately do decide to make them canon one day. until then i'm sorry to say it's all in your head.
you should realize that not everyone enjoys constantly reading into every interaction buck and eddie have to prove there are romantic implications between them. some people simply prefer having things laid out before them. it's honestly wild to me that you can't accept there are people who'd take canon over fanon any day. if you're angry because people don't see what you see while watching the show and instead enjoy what is actually happening on the screen, i think it's a sign for you to take a breather and focus on real world for a while.
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw; yandere, forced captivity, isolation | masterlist
unedited | 669 words
I would like to suggest, high school boyfriend yandere.
He starts off as this loyal soft boyfriend that asks you out after class. Maybe you’re the one that asks him out even, he’s over the moon regardless when you start dating. He’s the type to never forget anything you tell him and look like a lost puppy every time you have to leave him to do something else.
Then he starts taking up more of your time, suddenly you aren’t free to hang out with your other friends. Can’t go out because you’ve got a date with him and you just hate how dejected he looks when you have to cancel at the last minute. Your friends stop asking you to join them after the tenth time this happens.
You’d get whiplash with some yanderes where one day you’re out and about and the next you’re suddenly kidnapped in his 14 room mansion in the middle of the woods. But not this one, he develops slowly, you’re his first and probably last lover. He’s still young and impressionable so a combination of his surroundings and probably traumas that have built up to this point lead him to spiral. Next thing you know you’re sharing an apartment and going to the same uni, maybe you’re studying different majors but his classes are scheduled at the same times as yours aside from a few minor ones that just couldn’t be changed. In the end all you’ll be left with is him. He’s just so nice to you, if anything you’re the one that should be afraid of him leaving you knowing how popular he is but seeing how he spends every moment outside of class with you gives you some solace.
Almost conditions you to be as possessive as him. He learnt all of your likes and dislikes, he doesn’t argue with you and always has a soft tone, you don’t have any friends to begin with but slowly you find yourself disliking other people's presence. They don’t treat you like he does, they could have ulterior motives or might be using you but you don’t have to worry about that with him, he’s not like that. You’ve heard of cheating stories in the past but he doesn’t have anything to hide, you’ve never given him reason to, he’ll go to any lengths to assure you of this.
The few times you do talk to other people they always fawn over how cute you two look together, even your family loves him. No one is surprised when you two get married.Maybe the only grievance you have with him is how he doesn’t let you work, assures you that he’ll make enough to provide for you, in just a few years he’ll make enough so that you don’t even have to look at the cost of something before buying it, just stay comfortably at home. But you don’t think of it much after you get pregnant, it's better to stay at home when you’re expecting.
But sometimes it just can’t be helped, no matter how perfect he is, sometimes you just fall out of love, crave to experience things outside of the rose tinted world he’s made for you. That’s when his cracks really start to show. He’s not used to seeing you like this, to going against him like that, you’ve always been so compliant that he started feeling complacent. This is when you see the side of him he’s hid so well, the one that suddenly decides to relocate far out in the countryside, the one that gives you no reason to leave the house. He just works from home now (he took this into consideration when choosing a major). If you need anything it can just be ordered online, but even that’s monitored, your own phone is nowhere to be seen.
You’ve never had anything other than him but back then it was your own choice, foolish as it may have been but now, he’s left you with no other option but him.
#yandere#yandere character#yandere x reader#oc#original character#yandere oc#yandere blog#yandere male#dark fic#yandere scenario#dark romance#x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere original character#scenario#yandere original character x reader#yandere highschool#highschool au
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Silver, Azul: Equal Parts Noble and Naive
... Why's he making a Malleus "r u lost bby ghorl" face while also copying Lilia's chin-in-hand pose/Malleus’s Dorm Uniform pose 🤡 There's another Malleus parallel in the vignettes; Silver comments on the same Philip-Aurora dancing painting (that is shown in Malleus's Groovy) and says that he took up dancing too since he admired the prince. Boy was ready for GloMasq/j Malleus glaring at the happy couple and Silver determined to stand firm against a fearsome foe... ;v;
I don’t know if I should be concerned or not given the Groovy and potential foreshadowing for book 7 😂 since there’s fan theories about how Silver could be the “sword” that slays the dragon… *rubs hands together* but it would be fun if it happened…
Fun fact about this Groovy: it had to be corrected because during the initial drop the devs forgot Silver's eyeshadow www The first time this mistake happened, I believe it was on Platinum Suit Vil's chibi.
A Tale as Old as Time.
There was a magic to two sets of parallel lines, bound together to form a quadrilateral. A great number of things could be contained within it. Upon a storybook's page or a painter's canvas, endless possibilities and mystical beings.
Silver gazed at one now.
A spindly dragon, horned and with massive spines protruding from its back, was poised in a platinum frame. Its belly was a violent shock of violet, its scales black as the night. Leathery wings splayed, gaping maw glowing green, trails of smoke exuding from its nostrils, the fearsome beast was prepared to strike down any warrior foolish enough to approach it.
"This is the Thorn Fairy in her dragon form," Silver murmured, his expression set in seriousness. "I'd always dreamed of seeing it for myself someday."
"How wonderful that your dream has now become a reality," a slick voice crooned. It belonged to Azul, who had sidled up to him like an all-too-eager used car salesman. "Ah, but you seem to be troubled. What ails you?"
“It's just... for the Thorn Fairy to have assumed this form, it means she felt as though she was in danger. Someone may have threatened her or put her in this situation."
“That’s true.” Azul nodded. “As I recall from our Magic History lectures, fae tend to be reclusive creatures with rather tumultuous relations with other races.
“In the days when magic was branded as heresy, fae were particularly ostracized due to their natural affinity for it. Humans far and away wide feared them. It's possible that this painting depicts a struggle of a similar nature."
“A struggle…” The corners of Silver’s mouth turned down. “Yes, humans and fae have historically been at odds with one another. We are fortunate to live during an era of relative peace."
“Quite! My own people—the merfolk—have also had a strained relationship with humans. It was through the union of a mermaid princess and a human prince that we were able to begin efforts to mend that bond. I am most gracious to them! It is because of the mermaid princess that I’m afforded the opportunity to study on land.”
“That’s great, Azul. I’m happy for you.” Silver gave a smile that was as softy and airy as dandelion fluff. “It’s nice that we’re able to meet and share ideas with people from different walks of life. It makes the world a richer place.”
He looked to the painting again, his eyes tracing the curved horns of the dragon and stopping at the sharp tips. His liege, too, had a pair like those.
“… As much as I hate to admit it, it will be a while before fae and humans can reach that level of understanding." Silver folded his arms. "Sebek says the differences are too numerous, but I… I want to believe that we are capable of bringing about that kind of a future.”
His vision, so clear, so pure. It sparkled like the face of a polished mirror.
Azul pushed his glasses up, his hand concealing a smirk.
"Fufufu. Perhaps it is possible to achieve with your endless optimism and empathy, Silver-san. After all, I don't believe I've witnessed you losing your cool even once with Malleus-san, Lilia-san, or Sebek-san. That kindness and patience is your strength, stronger than any sword you could wield."
He pretended to hesitate. "Though... I do wonder what should happen if--no, never mind. Please forget that I said anything."
"What is it? You can tell me," Silver reassured him. Dread surged up from his stomach--but the spike soon settled.
"Well--" Azul made a little show of choosing his words carefully, as though he were thoroughly coming through ingredients lined up on a shelf. "Consider: what happens if the day comes when you are forced to point your sword at your master?"
"At Malleus-sama?! I can't imagine..."
"If, if. This is entirely hypothetical," his peer tutted. "Let us say that Malleus-san were to make a decision--a decision which has dire consequences for you, for all of humankind. Silver-san, would you be able to salvage that precarious peace?"
Surprise lasted for a second before it vanished from the knight. Back was a quiet stoicism, steel sharpening the delicate colors to his gaze. A hand clenching his chest, as if to keep his heart still.
Finally, he spoke.
"I will do what has to be done. I will not back down. If there comes a time when my lord strays from his path and into the darkness, then it is my duty as his retainer to return him to the light."
“And you are not concerned for what awaits you in the aftermath?”
“No,” Silver replied matter-of-factly. The answer was simple. “I will offer my hand.”
“I beg your pardon?! Am I hearing this correctly? You plan to help the person you just opposed back up after you defeat them?”
“That’s the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a chance for their feelings to be heard. If we listen, then we can find a solution together and keep the same misunderstanding from happening again. That’s my hope.”
His wish was like the buoyant notes of a bell. Clear, crisp, resonant. It flitted up, rising above the boys’ heads, at last bursting like a bubble and letting the words rain down on them in thoughtful flecks.
"… I see,” Azul mused. “So that is the type of person you are."
How noble. How naive. It seems that Silver-san is a very bit like the prince from the story he so deeply cherishes. Neither will recoil from foes, no matter how formidable.
The valuable piece of information, he tucked away for a rainy day. With his probing settled, Azul brought his hands together and flashed a winsome grin.
Here was a hero in the making, and he, the sponsor to the champion.
“Your character is commendable!! I look forward to witnessing your many friendship-fueled triumphs.”
#twisted wonderland#twst#Silver#Azul Ashengrotto#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#spoilers#something no one asked for#Silver birthday takeover#twst imagines#twisted wonderland imagines#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland scenarios
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Song of Ice & Shadow
Part 4
You can read part one, two, three here.
Summary: Y/n is intrigued by a certain illyrian. They open up to one another one night, but she stops it from getting out of control. With Feyre’s return, things get more tense.
Warnings: some angst.
Word count: 2.95K
Like every day, today was no different. Y/n would wake up, stand in front of the mirror for five minutes, bottle up her feelings and go on about her day.
“How’s Elain?” She asked Nesta, who was sitting in the same armchair as always, a book in her hand.
“Same as she’s been since she got turned” Nesta replied.
“How are you?” she asked, her tone serious and low.
“Never better. I’m free to do whatever I want”.
“Are you? All I’ve seen you do is sit in that armchair, reading books every day since we’ve gotten here”.
“I’m immortal now, what difference does it make if I sit here for one or twenty years? Not everyone wants to venture into the world like you”.
“You’re upset with me” Y/n observed.
“With you, with everyone” Nesta sighed.
“I understand. What can I do to help you?”.
“Nothing. No one can do anything about this”.
Y/n closed her hands into fists, clenching so hard she almost broke her bones “at least we’re all together” she tried to find words to comfort her sister, knowing she's suffered as much as she did, but these were the only words she found, the one she’d tell herself every time she’s about to break down “we’re all together, we made it” she repeated, to which Nesta only nodded.
Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Y/n plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil beneath before entering Elain’s room.
“Elain? How are you feeling today?”.
“I want to go home” Elain repeated, as she had been for the past couple of weeks.
“I know. I want to go home too. Let’s just wait until Feyre gets back” she stroked her sister’s hair and kissed the top of her head before leaving.
Luckily, no one was in the dining room when she entered. The house offered her food, which she ate very slowly.
“Are you alright?” a voice interrupting her trail of thoughts, catching her off guard.
“What?”.
“Are you alright?” Azriel repeated, concern evident in his voice.
“Yes, why?”.
“You’re holding your fork midair” he shifted his eyes to her hand, where was holding the fork.
“Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts” she explained, lowering the fork back onto her plate.
He slid a chair two seats away from her and sat down, a plate full of food appeared in front of him as he dug right in. Her eyes trailed him all the way.
She took another bite of her food, but with a lot on her mind, she had no appetite. She wanted to stand up and leave, but seeing he just got here, she didn’t want him to think she’s leaving because of him and she did not want to be rude. Since when do I care about what other people think? she thought to herself.
“You’re doing it again” Azriel remarked, emitting a soft chuckle.
She placed her fork back down “how’s spying going?” She inquired, distracting herself from her thoughts, but also out of curiosity, not that she’d admit it.
“‘The spying’ is going slow, but we’re making progress” a smile remained plastered on his face.
“Why are you smiling?”.
“No one has phrased that question like that before”.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything”.
As they sat in silence, Azriel hesitated before speaking again “how are you coping? I can only imagine how you must feel, it’s not easy becoming fae when you hate our kind” it wasn’t a confrontation, but acknowledgment of what he’d observed.
“No, it’s not. But as you can see, I’m doing well” she lied. Not wanting to push her further, he only nodded.
“Do you sleep upside down like bats?” she spontaneously asked, making him choke on his drink from the peculiar question.
“No. No, I do not. I sleep like normal people” his eyes furrowed with curiosity as he turned to face her.
“How would I know” she shrugged “you do have wings of a bat… I just thought you had other characteristics of a bat as well” she added.
“Like what?”.
“Do you bite- or drink blood?”.
“Only when asked to” a smile tugged at his lips “and no, I don’t drink blood. Any other clarification I can assist you with?.
“No, not at the moment” she struggled to hide her amusement.
“Oh, you poor thing! But don’t worry, I’ve come to rescue you” Cassian said to his brother, as he strode in, noticing the two of them sitting alone.
She rolled her eyes at him “I was just leaving”. “And just for the future, when you want to rescue someone, maybe do it before the end” she advised before walking out
Azriel kept a stern expression before standing up himself.
“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.
“I finished eating”.
“You’re just gonna leave me alone?”.
“You’ll do fine on your own” he patted his brother’s shoulders.
—-
Y/n had always had trouble sleeping at night, but ever since her new life at the Night Court, her nightmares increased. Unable to sleep, she went upstairs to the roof. This space had become her comfort place when she needed to escape the things that plagued her sleep. Seeing as Cassian trained in the morning and Azriel being away most of the time, she thought no one would be here at night time. Reaching the training ground, occupied by her thoughts, she paid no attention to who was there. Fiddling with the blue celestite necklace around her neck, she reached the edge and looked up at the sky. Three bright stars decorating the visibly huge mountain, Ramiel.
“What’s on your mind?” sleek like the shadows, Azriel approached, snapping her back to reality.
Blinking rapidly, she muttered “don’t you ever sleep? Even bats do” Y/n quipped, attempting to deflect.
“In the morning”.
“Are you referring to the bats or yourself?”.
“Both” he let out a soft chuckle.
“As I recall, you’re awake in the early mornings, so how many hours do you sleep?”.
“Enough to keep me going. What about you? You’re awake”.
“But I do sleep in the morning. In case you haven't noticed, I eat breakfast when you’re all having lunch or dinner” Y/n reminded.
“I have noticed... You still haven’t answered my question” Azriel persisted.
“What question?”.
“What’s on your mind?”.
“Nothing”.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be staring into nothingness all day” he pointed out.
“I’m fine. It does not concern you”.
“Alright, how about I share something personal about me, and you can tell me what’s bothering you?” Azriel offered.
“And why would I want that?”.
“Out of curiosity. I’ve also noticed you like knowing things, especially when it concerns your sisters and yourself. So, go ahead, ask me anything you want? Anything you want to know”.
She contemplated for a while. “What happened to your hands?” she blurted out, one of her hands remained fiddling with the necklace.
He did not anticipate her question, but still, he answered “my brothers” he cleared his throat “my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what’d happen when you mix oil and fire with our quick healing gifts” he explained, and shadows wrapped tighter around him.
“How old were you then?” she asked, her voice low and soft.
“Eight” a hint of darkness gleamed in his eyes.
“Were they punished?”.
“Eventually”.
“So, your father did nothing, as his flesh and blood was set on fire?” her tone shifted, her face contorted with anger.
“I am a bastard, while my half-brothers are his legitimate sons. In his eyes, they are his flesh and blood” he clarified.
“It makes no difference. You’re his son, nonetheless” she shook her head, tightening her grip on her necklace.
“It did to him”.
“What about your mother? Is she-”.
“That’s another personal question. We agreed on one. Now, it’s your turn”.
“What do you want to know?”.
“What’s been bothering you? And don’t say transitioning, you’re more concerned today”.
“I went to see Elain today. I know it takes time to heal, and I know I shouldn’t interfere with her healing process, but it- it ‘s so hard to just stand by and do nothing. I want to help her, and she doesn’t want my help. Even if she did, I don’t know what to do and how to help her. Her wedding was supposed to be in a few weeks” she sighed “ I worry about Nesta, too. Although she seems fine, I know she’s not. She used to tell me everything, and now she’s hiding from me” she opened up for the first time. Realizing that, she regretted it immediately and didn’t know why she agreed to that stupid deal. With the shadows whispering into his ears, Azriel discerned her discomfort “that necklace, do you always hold it when you’re feeling… a strong emotion?” Azriel asked, attempting to change the subject.
“I-” she looked down at her hand wrapped around the necklace ”I suppose. I never gave it a thought” she lowered her hand,releasing her grip on the necklace.
“That necklace, where did you get it from?” his eyes narrowed as he recognized the stone. She never took off that necklace, but today was the first time he'd spotted it. After all, it’s not polite to stare down at a lady’s chest, and being the gentleman he is, he never looked.
“It was a gift from my mother, why?”.
“It’s a rare stone, only found in certain places” he explained.
“You recognize it?”.
“I’ve seen something similar once or twice, but I could be mistaken”.
“I don’t think it’s from anywhere in Prythian. My mother hated your- our kind. She’d never take or gift me anything related to us” Y/n stated and his shadows danced around her.
“Why do you hate our kind so much?”.
“That is another personal question. We agreed on one” she repeated his words to him “and I’m not making another deal with you. I’ve already said way too much” Y/n retorted.
“What are you so afraid of?”.
“More questions” an amused smile crept onto her face.
“Fair enough” he raised his hands in surrender “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about tonight”.
“Good night, shadowsinger” Y/n said, heading swiftly towards the stairs and his shadows slowly retracted.
“Good night, Y/n” he murmured in a subdued tone as he watched her leave. That night, for the first time in a very long time, Azriel slept peacefully.
The following day, Y/n didn’t go out to eat breakfast or lunch but she went out for dinner. Upon arrival. She found Cassian seated in his usual spot. Ignoring his presence, she took a seat, hoping for a peaceful meal.
“No mean comments tonight?” Cassian quipped.
“I was literally minding my own business. What do you want, you brute bastard?” Y/n replied sharply.
“There we go” he smirked.
“Your brother won't be joining us?”.
“Which one?”.
“The somewhat civilized decent one”.
“I’m assuming you mean Az. He left early this morning. He’ll be gone for a while. Why do you ask?... Aw, don’t tell me you have a thing for my handsome brother” Cassian teased.
She huffed “you wish…without him here, a war would start and I’d rather not get my hands dirty” she retorted, taking her plate and heading for the exit.
“It’s cute that you think you can take me. Perhaps if you trained with me long enough, you’d be a worthy opponent, but still, even then I doubt you’d defeat me” he taunted, his smugness evident.
“Piss off” Y/n snapped.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” he mocked.
“It would take much more than that to do so, especially coming from you” Y/n replied dismissively.
“And why is that?”.
“You simply don’t matter enough to me, to even consider anything you say, good or bad” she shrugged before leaving.
“Ouch” he murmured.
—
Being aware that Feyre was returning today, Y/n went to check on Elain before her arrival. However, what she found when she got to her sister’s room left her in shock.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Y/n spat out, her voice seething with anger. Lucien was standing in the doorway as Feyre left Elain’s room and closed the door behind her.
“Y/n, wait. I can explain” Feyre interjected.
“You brought him here? To see Elain? The fucking monster who sold us out to Hybern” her words were laced with deep-seated hatred.
“It’s more complicated than that, and he is her mate” Feyre reminded.
“He’s no such thing to her”.
“I just wanted to see her” Lucien tried to clarify.
“You don’t get to speak” Y/n pointed her finger at him.
“Y/n, he’s our guest. He will be staying with us” Feyre declared.
“You would let the man who ruined our lives, who ruined our sister’s marriage stay here with us?” she took a deep breath, trying to control her rage.
“If you would calm down and let me explain, you’ll understand-” Feyre urged.
“I’ll calm down when he’s gone. Do not let him near Elain, if you want him to stay in one piece” she warned, shooting Lucien with a glare before storming out.
“I take it you weren’t thrilled to see your sister?” Cassian smirked as Y/n passed him.
“Not in the mood today for your bullshit, brute”.
—-
The next time Y/n saw Feyre was at dinner, attended by Rhy’s inner circle, her sisters if they desired, and Lucien. She was reluctant to go, but fearing Elain might attend and be in the same room as that monster, with no one seemingly having a problem with him, she decided to go. She had arrived slightly later than everyone else. Feyre was sat next to Nesta, Rhys on her other side, Amren across from her, Cassian next to Amren, Azriel beside him, Mor opposite of him and Lucien across from Nesta, leaving two seats vacant, one next to Az and the other next to Mor. They were talking about flying lessons when she entered, dressed in a long-sleeved black gown with silver glitter that exposed her collar bones and back. Only the metal part of her necklace was visible. The upper part of the dress embraced her curves, while the lower part flowed like liquid silk as it draped over her figure. Knowing her temper, everyone stopped talking, if only to see what she’s about to say or do or who she’d pick a fight with. To their surprise, she did neither as she glanced at Azriel and took a seat beside Mor.
“What happened to you?” Y/n asked Azriel, gesturing to the wine splattered across his chest and neck. He looked down, only noticing it when she pointed it out.
“Mor spewed her wine when she heard Feyre wanted to learn how to fly” Cassian explained with a grin.
“You have wings?” a question directed at her sister.
“Yes, I can shape-shift”. At that, the conversation continued.
“I can teach you” Azriel offered, elaborating that the other two Illyrians had been trained at such a young age that they barely remember it. To which Cassian countered they still teach the younglings the basics, which ended with Azriel explaining that it’s not the same for older individuals, and that there are fears and mental blocks. Everyone fell silent and something inside of Y/n stirred. She wondered if he was talking about his experience, not forgetting the conversation they had where he told her about his past. She did not know a lot, but seeing as his own brothers burned his hands, they probably restricted him from flying or participating in anything that would give him any kind of power.
Feyre proceeded to ask her sisters for help against the king of Hybern. Explaining that with training they could potentially close the holes expanded by the cauldron. Amren offered to train the sisters, which Y/n refused, unwilling to take part in any of this. Despite the growing frustration among the others, Feyre was grateful that at least one of her sisters was willing to help. She explained that they might need their assistance during the meeting with the high lords and this time, both sisters rejected.
“People’s lives might depend on your accounts of it. The success of this meeting might depend upon it” Feyre clarified.
“Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no” Nesta asserted, while Y/n remained silent, watching the exchange between her sisters before Nesta stormed out. Now all eyes were on her.
“Y/n, please. We need your help” Feyre begged.
“Do you know what you're asking of me?” Y/n narrowed her eyes.
“I do. And I understand your hatred of our kind, but we-”.
“You understand nothing. All my life, I have helped you. I have dedicated my life to you, to Nesta, to Elain, and never have I once asked for anything in return. But helping you and your new found family is what got us into this mess. And now what? You expect us to go to that meeting that is full of entitled bastards who did nothing all these years, who don’t care about us, about mortals and beg them for help? I would rather see them all burn and their kingdoms or courts reduced to ashes” Y/n delivered the chilling words with an unsettling calmness, her voice devoid of any hint of emotion “and just as Nesta said, if you dare bring Elain into this, I’ll be the one delivering your throat to her” she glared at everyone in the room before leaving and slamming the door shut behind her.
Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog
#acotar#azriel#Azriel x reader#Azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar angst#Azriel angst#acotar fic#Azriel acotar#Azriel fanfiction#Azriel x you#Azriel x y/n#Azriel x oc#acotar x reader#acotar x y/n#acomaf#acowar#acosf#Azriel fic#acotar x oc#rhysand#cassian#Cassian x reader#Cassian x y/n#Cassian fanfic#Azriel imagine#Cassian imagine#lucien vanserra#acotar series#azriel series
101 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
