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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months

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Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {9}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: You finally find out just how perfect your boyfriends are as birthing partners. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, all the birthing glory one can expect (it’s not a pretty thing irl) WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go One

You woke up to too much warmth but the thrill that shot through you washed away all lingering sense of sleep. Charles and Lando were curled around you having arrived home sometime during the night, replacing the giant Pokemon teddy that was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor beside Lando.

“Lan,” you whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. A deep groan exhaled with a snore before he slowly blinked his eyes open and found you grinning down at him. “There’s my Winner.”

His smile was drowsy as he rolled onto his back and pulled you into his arms so your head could rest on his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped against your ear and you didn’t realise how quiet the nights had been without hearing that sound beneath your head.

“Did it for you, babe.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, I had to do something big to make sure you didn’t forget me while we were gone.”

“Showoff.” You giggled and draped a leg over his, cozying up as much as you comfortably could. “I missed you.”

“Missed you. Glad to see you are in one piece too. I knew my little girl would wait patiently for us to get home.” Lando carefully unwrapped himself from you and shuffled down the bed, brushing up the oversized Quadrant shirt you had stolen from his new merch line. “You can come out anytime now, sweetheart. The sooner the better, if you are ready. Please be ready.”

Lando waited a moment to see if he would get a kick in response but there was nothing and he sighed as he flopped back onto the pillow. “Silent treatment already.”

“She’s probably still sleeping,” you said as you kissed his disappointed frown. “You should go back to sleep too, baby.”

You carefully climbed over him but he caught your hips and trapped you straddling him. You couldn’t see clear enough in the dim light but you were sure his eyes were darkening as he hummed happily. “Can’t sleep with you teasing me like that.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I was trying to get up to go pee.” You wiggled enough for him to bite his lip before swinging your leg off and dashing to the bathroom while he groaned at the loss of your body.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you heard him whine as you closed the door. You would not miss the rapid fire bathroom breaks that came with the last trimester, that was for certain.

The relief of emptying your bladder was short lived as you wiped and the loud sound of disgust you made had a thump sounding on the bedroom floor before quick feet sprinted into the bathroom, busting the door wide open. Lando squinted against the bright light before finding you still sat on the toilet with the tissue paper still in your hand.

“What’s wrong? Is that blood? Shit, Charles!”

“Stop!” you hissed before he woke your mother up from her room down the hall. “It’s not…blood…at least I don’t think so…”

Charles skidded into the bathroom looking absolutely dishevelled as he tried to take in what he was seeing. “Amour, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’ve lost my mucus plug.”

“Mucus plug…” he murmured, rubbing his tired eyes as he mentally scanned the pregnancy books he had read with Lando.

“Yes!” Lando shouted, his hand turning to an enthusiastic fist. “That means you might be going into labour soon.”

Charles’ eyes widened with excitement and they embraced each other with a laugh, proudly chatting about how their daughter was a good girl waiting for them to come home.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted, clearing your throat. “Can I have some privacy?”

They looked a little sheepish and backed out of the bathroom, closing the door so you could finish your routine. It was only when you were washing your hands, facing yourself in the mirror that you saw the excitement in your own eyes. Praying the old wives tale was right, you dried your hands and stepped back into the bedroom.

The bedside lamps glowed warmly and a cosy space was created for you on a mountain of pillows between the two men who nearly vibrated with anticipation. “Please don’t get your hopes up, it may still take days,” you said as you crawled up the bed.

“I know,” Lando replied while he fretted about getting the pillows in the right place to support your back and belly, as well as one between your knees. “You should try get as much sleep as possible while you can.”

Charles smiled at the doting father-to-be, falling even more in love with him. Lando had always been portrayed as the carefree one and the most immature driver on the grid, but this was the side the tv show never aired. Lando was a caretaker and a homemaker at heart, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for those he loved.

When Lando looked up after tucking the blankets in around you he found Charles staring at him and lifted a brow in question. Charles just smiled and shook his head. “I am the luckiest man.”

A smirk kicked up on Lando’s lips as he pointedly looked over you and him. “Debatable.”

“We are the luckiest men,” Charles compromised with a laugh before brushing his knuckles softly over your relaxed face.

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, can you come help me?”

The shower was steaming up after spending the last 15 minutes unsuccessfully shaving. The cloud of steam cleared out when he opened the glass door but as soon he saw the position you had got yourself into he barked out a laugh that drew Lando into the bathroom too.

“Har-har, laugh it up,” you drawled. “I’m not having my baby’s first introduction to the world through a forest, now can one of you please help me?”

“Mon amour, I am sure women were giving birth before these were invented,” he said as he accepted the bright pink razor with an uncertain look on his face. “You don’t have to…uh…landscape.”

“Lando, will you please get rid of this bush before I call in the professionals?”

He was still eyeing up the length of your leg you had managed to kick up onto the lowest recessed shelf that had a few half empty bottles of shampoos knocked over. Even with the position you hadn’t been able to reach around your belly to get to the place you wanted to. “Who are the professionals?” he asked curiously as he took the razor off Charles and got down on his knees. “Kika?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll never understand female friendships,” Charles chuckled, leaning back against the tiled wall to critique Lando. Your main focus was on balancing and keeping as still as possible because you did not want to get cut in such a delicate area - though it couldn’t be worse than what you had read about episiotomies during delivery. “Shave with the hair, same direction.”

“Sorry, not all of us have to shave daily,” Lando muttered sarcastically before holding the razor out. “Why don’t you do it then?”

Charles rolled his eyes but took it and knelt beside Lando. “Can you…?” You couldn’t see what he gestured to Lando but you got a fair idea when you felt Lando’s hands working with Charles to keep the skin taut, and mortifyingly, when he parted your folds to get the stray hairs that grew there.

“I never want to talk about this,” you said as they both rose up and shared a laugh.

“You might want to start trying to kick start labour then,” Lando teased. “You have about five days before it’s time for another trim.”

“If you have any ideas, I am all ears.”

As it turned out, his idea to kick starting labour was actually what had got you pregnant in the first place. Though you felt breathless and bloated, sex was a good way of distracting yourself of what was going to come because whether you were ready or not, a baby could not stay in utero forever.

“Are you sure?” Charles asked when Lando suggested turning the lights down low and locking the bedroom door. They were both more than eager to reacquaint themselves with your body after being away but Charles was certain Lando had just made it up as an excuse to get laid.

“Yes, I’m sure. I know I’m horny but it’s also true.”

You had let them towel dry you after washing away the shaving cream and let them bicker about the merits of the idea while you climbed onto the bed. You had been planning on getting up for the day after your shower but now that you were again in the soft sheets you realised how much more comfortable it was on your back.

“...nipple stimulation, see, says it right here.”

You did a small ab crunch to peek over your stomach and saw Lando and Charles comparing their phones, but the small pressure the movement put on your belly caused a strange sensation between your legs. Warm liquid leaked over your thighs and onto the sheets and you thought you couldn’t get anymore embarrassed as you scrunched the sheets tight around your body.

“Can I have a moment alone?” you asked quietly, their faces freezing at the question that interrupted their discussion on best positions to start with.

“Pourquoi? You know it won’t hurt the baby, you don’t have to worry, amour.”

“It’s not that,” you muttered, self-consciously hiding deeper in the covers.

“Don’t be shy, baby, you are still the most beautiful woman.”

You swallowed twice with your dry throat and shook your head as tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Please?”

“Non, what’s wrong?” They both stepped closer and froze when you cried even more, confusion, hurt, worry all flitting across their faces.

“I wet myself,” you whispered as you hid your face, “and I can’t move.”

Their phones were abandoned, all thoughts of lust erased for good reason as you waited for disgust to replace it. “You run the shower and I’ll change the sheets,” Charles said, taking charge. “Come on, amour, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can’t move,” you said with a vehement shake of your head. “It keeps leaking out.”

“Uh, baby,” Lando said as he reached for the sheets clutched in your hands. “That sounds like your waters have broken.”

The plans changed quickly when you finally loosened your grip enough to let Lando pull them away. The damp spot was much smaller than your mind had made you believe but when they helped you to stand up a full torrent of it gushed out.

“Yup, time to call the midwife,” Lando said aloud as he confirmed you wouldn’t have to die of embarrassment.

“On it,” Charles answered as he made the call while getting dressed. Lando still followed his first order and helped you back to the shower while Charles spoke in French, too quick for you to understand.

By the time you had been washed for the second time in under an hour Charles had gathered the hospital bag and laid out some clothes for you and Lando. The bedsheets had also been stripped and dumped in the corner of the room but you still spotted the wet patch on the carpet beside the bed.

“I’ll have someone clean it up before we get home,” Charles assured you with a kiss to your temple. “We should go tell your mother that it’s time.”

She reacted as expected, a squeal of happiness, a strong hug, a touch of worry, before more excited laughs. Parking at the hospital was always a nightmare so the plan was for her to drop you off outside the maternity ward and go to Pascale’s to wait for updates with her.

Phones rang and messages beeped to the point you told everyone to put their phones on silent. As much as you were happy to hear the best wishes and updated on Lando’s family travelling from England, the sounds were messing with your concentration.

It didn't feel like long but by the time you were dressed, the car was packed, you had chosen your snacks and your immediate family were contacted, almost two hours had passed. In those two hours the tight feeling in your back was getting more painful and no matter what position you were in, sitting or standing, there was no easing the aching pressure on your belly.

“Baby, come see this,” Lando called out, pointing to Max’s apartment. You shuffled your way to him with Charles offering his arm to steady your steps and found a large banner spread across your brother’s balcony.

MODE: PUSH!

Despite the pain, you laughed as you saw him waving from the other tower apartment. You waved back before letting Charles guide you back inside. You took one last look around the apartment as you headed to the front door, knowing the next time you stepped foot inside it would no longer be just the three of you. The next time you returned, everything would change.

It seemed too easy. The hours passed by with the numbing assistance of gas and air, and the shadows crossed the room as morning turned to afternoon. The birthing pool became your favourite space to relax until you were a wrinkled prune. Floating in the tepid water took the weight of your belly off your spine and Charles had a cloth that he dipped in and used to wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Open up, baby,” Lando said softly as he took a seat at the edge of the oversized bath and held a fresh ice chip up to your lips.

Doctor Turner had arrived not long after the hospital midwives had settled you into the room and announced you were 5cm dilated. You thought that meant you were halfway but time seemed to slow in response. The doctor that had been your regular OB GYN since moving to Monaco was happy to take a backseat and let Lando and Charles take care of you. She actually seemed quite impressed with them, not as much as you were.

“Is it okay if we dim the lights?” Lando asked. He had noticed your eyes squinting against the harsh fluorescents overhead and Doctor Turner reached for the switch that was behind her makeshift desk she had taken up by the door. Her hand jotted down notes, twisting her wrist to check the time on her watch before writing more.

“That’s better,” you sighed as you opened your eyes and looked up at your boyfriends. “It’s a shame there’s no jets in this jacuzzi.”

Charles chuckled and dragged the wet cloth over your shoulders and collar. “You make this sound like a spa date, ma chérie.”

“You didn’t happen to bring a face mask, did you?” you teased.

“Sorry, wasn’t on the checklist,” Lando replied with a snort. “Do you want music on again?”

“I never would have pegged you to be a mother hen,” you murmured as you shook your head and smiled. “I’m okay right now.”

Another hour passed and that calm state soon came to an end as the contractions grew stronger, strong enough to take your breath away, and Charles had to remind you to inhale and exhale slowly. The plastic pipe full of gas started to dent beneath your gritted teeth as you bit down with each contraction and groaned deeply. The sound had Doctor Turner rising from her chair to check how far along you were.

Your self consciousness had recessed to the back of your mind as you focused solely on what you body was doing. It was almost the same tunnel vision you had when you were racing and the rest of the world faded away from the track in front of you. You didn’t even blink when her gloved hand dipped into the water and disappeared between your legs.

“Would you like to move to the bed? You’ll be ready to push soon.”

You shook your head as another wave of pressure clamped down on your abdominal muscles, contorting them until it felt like they were going to snap. Just as quickly as it came on the contraction ended and the pain vanished as you slumped back against the pool edge. Water splashed over the lip but Charles and Lando didn’t even notice as they flexed their hands you had clenched tight.

“Can I stay in here?”

“Of course,” she said with a reassuring smile as she took her gloves off. “We are going to do whatever is most comfortable for you.”

She went back to add the latest note to her records but rather than sitting down she returned back to the edge of the bath, a fresh pair of gloves on her hands and a towel on her lap.

“When you said soon…?” you trailed off as another painful contraction began and it felt like your body was going to split in two.

“Do you feel the urge to push?” she asked as she leaned over the edge to look.

You couldn’t answer her as your feet found purchase on the bath walls and braced, your body bearing down on its own accord. An arm curled under each of yours, holding you up as you pushed with more effort than any of the workouts Kristian had ever put you through.

“Lovely head of dark hair,” she said with a grin as the contraction ended and both of your boyfriends couldn’t resist taking a peek.

For all his bravado at preparing himself, Lando blanched a bit and they both shot back up.

“When the next contraction starts, I want you to give me a really big push, okay?”

You were exhausted, and you were sweating. God, you hated how it clung to your skin and warmed with your body heat. You just wanted to sleep.

“You’re doing great, Spitfire. It’s nearly over. Just a little more, baby.”

Charles washed your face and neck with cool water, and you realised you had spoken aloud.

There was no warning or build up as your muscles contracted and you folded over yourself, crunching up as you screwed your eyes closed and pushed. It felt futile. All the effort of the last couple of hours had nothing to show and you didn’t think you were anywhere near being finished. The painful stretch between your legs had you ready to tap out and ask for something stronger but then the pressure flooded from you and the breath you held whooshed out with it.

“Here she is,” Doctor Turner exclaimed as she lifted the tiny form out of the water and carefully laid her on your chest before draping the warm towel over the both of you. She gently rubbed your daughter and by the third pat a warbling cry filled the air.

It was only then that you could breathe. Suddenly you were present once again in your body and you could hear the soft cries echoed by Lando and Charles’ happy sniffles.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered through your hoarse throat.

As if she recognised your voice, her little eyes peeked open and her cries settled. Flecks of gold broke through a myriad of green shades reminding you of when summer ended and the trees began to change colour and fall.

“Did you have a name picked out?”

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from hers until your vision blurred and you had to blink away the tears. “I think I know one.”

“Yeah?” Lando asked as he carefully caressed her cheek like she was the most precious thing in the world. “What is it?”

“Autumn.” You looked up to see them both smiling at the name, your heart doing a little jump. “Autumn Norris-Leclerc.”

“It’s perfect, mon amour,” Charles agreed with a nod as he kissed your temple. “Princesse Autumn.”

“Ha!” Lando suddenly exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention to him and his proud grin - but it was aimed at Charles. “Told you my pullout game was better than yours.”

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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bettysupremacy · 5 months

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idk if you write for finnick.. but could you write something where it’s the beginning of the quarter quell and he can’t find her? Just pure panic as he runs around the cornucopia?

I’ve never written for him before but I love him! idk how I feel about this but I hope truly that u like it.

Icy hot terror is all Finnick feels when the timer hits one. Loud and disorienting, the bang ripples against the water in vibrations that rumble under his feet.

Where are you?

The sun blares disgustingly into his eyes and skin, an obvious manipulation of the gamemakers sick amusement, but he ignores it, plunging into the only water he’s ever dreaded to tread. You’re not in sight. He’d told you to stay away, to swim, to run as far away from the cornucopia as you could. Don’t risk it, he’d shaken your shoulders, listen to me I’ll find you.

The water is warm and gross against his skin. It’s not as refreshing as the district four that he’s familiar with. It’s hot and fake. He comes up gasping for air, letting the terror settle into his bones as he pushes against the current of a manipulated riptide. Katniss climbs the stone so he does too; pushing his feet deeper into the ground with every step he takes. His breathing is labored, jagged as he runs. He can’t find you, but he will. He can’t find you, but he can find a weapon.

The cornucopia glistens in the sun, never lacking the weaponry he’d expected from it. Bows, arrows, knives, he eyes a backpack stuffed with supplies. Could he lug it with him? Probably not. He diverts his eyes to the trident beside him. Perched in its stand, it gleams in artificial sun as the grip molds to his fingers. He squeezes the deadly lifeline.

The sound of metal on metal scrapes behind him. Katniss. He turns quick, flashing the bangle around his wrist tauntingly. “Good thing we’re allies, right?”

She breathes hard in front of him, eyebrows pulling as she pauses in bated confusion. The weapon doesn’t lower. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” He gravels, quick enough to be considered panicked. “Duck.”

She listens, dropping to the floor hard enough to sting the weeping palms she balances on. The sick squelch of his trident in the fallen tribute is covered by her hands tight over her ears as she waits for the boom. The gong sounds, and then a scream. An unmistakable scream. It settles in his stomach and throat thickly, sweating his already wet hands. You didn’t listen.

“Finnick!” The voice screams. Sobs. “Finnick! Finnick!”

The sound is nightmare-ish. Something the gamemakers could never manipulate that accurately, and deep down he knows it’s the sound you’ll wake him up from if you ever gets out of this arena alive.

“I’m coming!” His feet hit hard against the gravel as he sprints. His breathing dries his throat quick. “I’ve got you!”

“Finnick!”

“I’m coming-“

The moment skids to a halt as he finds you. Trapped in the arms of a larger, broader tribute, you struggle for air as he headlocks you. He considers doing something rash, but Katniss behind you shakes her head. Like she can see it in his eyes. It’s a slow, quiet moment, hunter quiet as she stalks closer. Finnick eyes her wary to give her away.

“We can talk about this.” Finnick rationalizes slowly. “It’s the beginning of the game.”

“So?” His arm tightens around your neck. Your squeak breaks Finnicks heart.

“Finnick.” You strain.

“Give the viewers what they want.” Finn pleads. “A show. You can’t kill her so quick.”

“I don’t see a bargain being made.”

A bargain? It’s the first ten minutes and he stands next to a gleaming cornucopia filled with sharp armory. He could get something better than a simple metal trident. Throwing knives, poison, a machete. Finnick suspects the victor is doing what he pleaded. Giving the audience a show.

“Take my trident!” He nearly crashes, cool demeanor dropping as he watches you tap the man’s arm in panic, your air slowly constricting. “Give me her.”

It sickens Katniss; the ability to kill someone for views. To feed into the capitals agenda. This is a necessary kill, she reasons, this isn’t for her own survival. This isn’t a selfish homicide; this is Rue in the net, Prim on the stage. This is the girl she could save. Katniss’ fingers loosen, letting the elaborate metal fly from her grip. It hits the nameless career in the back. Her target.

The moment slows in Finnicks eyes. Katniss stands far, arms hanging limply at her sides. She stares at him, grateful for the thankfulness in his eyes that eases her burdened chest.

“Y/N.” He gasps as the man falls hard on you. He runs, helping you from under the heavy weight. “I’ve got you now.”

“Finn.” You weep, hands in his as he lifts you. You stumble, crashing into him hard. He hears a sob in his tribute suit. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you to listen to me.” He doesn’t anger, but this feels close to it as he grips you tightly. “I told you to run.”

You heave, greedy for fresh air, but your lungs are infiltrated by the heady scent of salt water. His hand calms the coughs that rake through your chest, guilty for his scolding. It’s a quiet moment in the calamity of the bloodbath, a stolen moment that he can’t afford to prolong another second.

“Cmon,” He eyes you, hands cupping your face, then falling as he looks up to Katniss. “Let’s go find Peeta.”

#finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #finnick angst #Finnick hurt/comfort #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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Submitting to his dominance part II

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: Orgasm denial, voyeurism???? slight pain play

WC: 1K

It had been five days since Ghost came down your throat. Five days since you last saw him. The anticipation of him dropping by was killing you. As much as you wanted to ease the pulsing ache between your legs, you didn’t. You promised to be a good girl for him, and you have been.

With a groan, you drop your head on your couch. God, he couldn’t show up today? You were dying here. Then your phone flashes with a notification. Sucking your teeth, you don’t bother looking at it. It’s probably Johnny checking up on you— seeing if you are still down with the flu. But then your phone starts flashing repeatedly. A phone call.

If Johnny is calling, then he must be really worried. You feel slightly guilty about that, especially because you aren’t sick, so you answer the phone with a soft voice, hoping you sound ill.

“Hey.”

“Hello, pet.”

You shoot up from the sofa, on full alert.

“Ghost.”

“I need you to do something.” Anything, you think.

“And that is?”

“Go to your bedroom and open the curtains then lie on your bed,” he pauses before saying, “Let me see you touch that pussy f’me.”

You don’t wait to get told twice and sprint to your bedroom, slamming the door closed. Putting Ghost on speaker, you toss the phone on the bed and walk to your window— yanking the curtains open and pulling the blinds up. You think you saw a glare of something on the roof of the apartment building facing you, but you think nothing of it.

All but ripping off your bottoms, you crawl to the center of the bed and recline back on both arms with your legs closed. From your open window, you can see the other apartment windows as well— and that has you faltering.

Ghost’s deep voice breaks your train of thought.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. This view is all f’me, only me.”

Your cheeks are burning as you spread your legs wide open.

He hisses loudly through the phone.

“I knew you’d have a pretty cunt. And it’s already dripping wet, pet. Go on, then. Touch yourself to my voice,” and you’re lowering your hand obediently when he sharply says, “But you aren’t allowed to come. You will come with me inside of you or not at all.”

You mewl at his order and he reiterates.

“No finishing. Do. you. understand?”

Biting your lip, you wordlessly nod.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Now show me what I want to see.”

You lower your hand to your cunt, and spread the lips open with a whimper.

“Run your finger along your slit, pretend it’s my tongue on you.”

Oh, he will be the death of you. With a moan, you do as he says. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you stroke your slit once then twice—

“Rub circles on your clit using your middle and ring finger.”

You feel yourself leak onto your bed with every tight movement on your swollen nub, and you feel the coil in your lower belly start to tighten.

“Tha’s it, pet. Look at how pretty you look, so wound up. Shove those fingers into your wet hole— press into that spot of yours that gets you cross-eyed.”

With a shuddering breath, you’re pressing your fingers into you and you hear Ghost say, “I can hear your cunt squelching through the phone, baby. Wish it was my fingers in you?”

You nod jerkily with a whine and he says, “Yeah, I know you do. Your pathetic little fingers wouldn’t reach inside you the way I could, eh? Need me to abuse that patch of nerves,” and you press firmly into your g-spot, causing a trickle of your nectar to drip down to your arsehole.

“You enjoy a little pain with your pleasure, hm? Give your cunt a slap.”

And you do, with a loud moan. Ghost chuckles darkly before saying, “Again.”

Another slap and that sends a jolt of ecstasy straight up your spine.

“So obedient. Now pretend it’s my cock rubbing against that puffy pussy.”

With fervor, you press four fingers against your clit— rubbing up and down.

“That’s it, doll,” and the fire in your lower belly starts to spread to your limbs when he cuts through your rapture with a harsh tone.

“Stop.”

The squeal you let out is ear-splitting.

“I thought I said that you don’t get to come.”

With quivering thighs and a raspy exhale, you lean back on your arms again.

“Atta girl. You’re a vision, pet,” he remarks.

Ghost knows you’re teetering on the edge because he has you wait before making you touch yourself until you’re about to shatter again. He does this four more times, and you feel like you’re about to go insane. Your cunt is fucking drenched, your mind numb from the painful pleasure.

It’s almost comical how hard your legs shake. You’re a drooling, sloppy, babbling mess and as you gaze out the window, you wonder if Ghost can see the silly little hearts in your eyes.

“Open that pretty cunt for me. Let me see the mess I’ve made of you.”

You do as he says— trembling fingers spreading your swollen lips open.

He lets out a pleased grunt before saying, “That’s enough. Put your pants back on. Remember that you don’t get to come without me in you. Oh, pet. I’m gonna enjoy breaking you in. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. You,” and he takes a breath, “are gonna get it.”

And with that, he hangs up. Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth and you let out a dry sob. You don’t know if you’re gonna make it until he gets here.

Your phone flashes again and you pick it up with weak arms.

‘How’s the sickness treating ya, hen?’

Your jaw clenches as tears of aggravation threaten to spill. Angrily, you’re typing your response when another notification comes up on your screen.

‘By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know who’s fucking you.’

Your soaked cunt clenches around nothing, then another notification.

‘And they’ll have no choice but to hear you beg for mercy that I don’t plan on giving.’

Your eyes stare blankly at the screen, wondering if you’ve perhaps bitten off more than you can chew.

A/N: Ghost using a sniper to watch reader edge ftw

taglist: @under-the-dirt @comeonatmebruh @channelsoph @imasimpl0l @hellshire-harlot @mesyakee @leeeenistop

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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midnightarsenal · 7 months

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𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Summary: A match with Brighton is interrupted by a pitch invader.

Pairing: Arsenal Women x Arsenal!Reader

Warning: Assault | Avoidance | Anxiety | Some Angst

Word Count: 4.6k

Meadow Park, Borehamwood

///

"Y/L/N!" Katie yells from across the pitch and you waste little time in punting the ball over the heads of half a dozen players to her, leading to certified banger of a goal in the seconds that follow and making the score 2-0 in the 61st minute after Caitlin's screamer near the end of the first half. You sprint over to the Irishwoman and launch yourself onto her back, cheering ecstatically as the pair of you are swarmed by the rest of your team.

.....

You had been with the club for over a year now, one of several promising names signed to the Gunners in the summer of 2022, and while you hadn't yet been with the team long enough to cement your place in it as one of its icons, you hadn't needed a lot of time to make plenty of friends among its roster.

Prior to joining Arsenal, you had been Everton's star girl, having played with the Liverpudlian side for over four years before moving to North London in a change that had caused almost as much upset among the Blues fans as it had excitement in the Gooners. It had been a tough decision, but both you and your manager had known that you needed more room to develop your talent and that such room could only be found at a team that regularly fought at the top of the league.

Besides, it had been a far better choice than the alternative of moving to Liverpool. (You still couldn't believe they had been bold enough to even offer.)

Initially, you'd been worried by the prospect of moving both city and club, leaving behind the team you'd grown so close to and entering a new, unknown environment filled with some pretty impressive (and subsequently intimidating) talents. Generally, you were a very confident person and not someone who tended to doubt yourself, but even then, the idea of playing alongside the likes of Miedema and Williamson with reputations known far and wide was a little daunting for a player with a relatively lowkey profile.

But, despite that you had more than proven yourself in your first full season with the club, serving as a reliable forward and netting yourself a handful of goals in the process, even if you weren't a regular in the starting eleven. (You tried not to take it personally given that it was your first season, though your competitive streak made the task a little difficult at times.)

The girls had accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and any reservations you'd had about switching to Arsenal had all but vanished by the time international break had started and you'd gone off the World Cup down under. The teammates on either side of you today were more than just co-workers, they were your friends, and sometimes they even felt like family.

.....

"Alright, you've all done a very good job this half." Jonas starts approvingly as you and the rest of the girls gather round for a brief strategy talk, with Cloé sitting on the pitch not too far away being looked over by the medics. There (probably) isn't anything wrong with her, but it's a good excuse to get a quick chat with the coach in before the game continues. It's the 75th minute and Brighton has been putting on the pressure, propelled forward by an influx of their benched players and possibly some added desperation after Katie's goal.

"Jen, Kyra, Kat, we cannot get complacent now, we need to reassert control over the midfield and lessen the pressure on our defence. Remember, their number 10 loves to make those late runs, so mark her tightly." Your coach continues, his attention turned to the midfielders as he makes quick work of the review while Cloé gets back up to some applause from the crowd and limps towards you and the others, heading for the nearby bench with the team physio and a pair of medics by her side. Already, Lina is taking her jacket off to sub in just behind you.

The chat concludes and the game continues, having only been paused for around a minute and a half as you share a glance with some of the other girls while you all run back onto the pitch with haste. You aren't normally the type to feel as if the result has been decided before the final whistle blows, but you feel confident that you'll be walking away with a win tonight, content with another strong performance.

If only.

It's the 83rd minute when it happens, 8 minutes after your group chat and 7 until the match's conclusion. You're not doing anything when the first signs of a problem arise in the form of distant gasps and disapproving yells from the crowd, you're just standing there with your hands idly on your hips, walking slowly along the pitch and keeping track of the ball as it's passed around in the midfield, a sizable distance from where you are.

You aren't paying attention to what's behind you.

"Y/L/N!" You hear Katie yell again from some ways away, but this time there's something different in her tone that alerts you, there's an urgency in it that's uncharacteristic, one that makes you think something's wrong, and it doesn't take you long to find out what it is.

"Stupid cow!" Is what you hear slurred from behind you before a searing pain suddenly springs forth from the side of your head, the impact of something hard sending you stumbling to the side before you quickly lose your footing and tumble to the ground, the left half of your face hitting the grass with such momentum that it briefly bounces back up before dropping down again.

Your vision blurs for a second or two as you instinctively reach for the sides of your head to cradle it protectively, your legs lifting up until you're just short of a fetal position. You quickly understand that you've been hit by someone and brace for a second attack, one that fortunately doesn't come as you hear sounds of a scuffle nearby.

Your right temple pulses with hurt and you can't help but scrunch your face up, closing and opening your eyes in a rabid blink to try and adjust your sight and shake off the disorientation that has you locked in its grip. For a few moments you lose track of time, wrapped up in your own world of pain before you see someone kneel down in front of you and feel their hands cup over your cheeks, turning your head up to face them.

It's Beth.

"Jesus Christ, you alright?" She asks intensely, her face shaped by a mix of exasperation and concern as you feel someone else's hands slot under your armpits and sit you up, you feel a minor sense of relief at the fact you don't immediately become nauseous at the movement, and the world starts to filter back to high resolution as your disorientation dissipates.

"Yeah.. yeah, I'm alright." You finally find the strength to speak, frowning as you continue to rub at your right temple and look around, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. Your head still hurt, but not quite as bad now and you're sitting up, surrounded on all sides by a wall of red and white football kits, all belonging to women who's gazes were entirely focused on you and who all looked either worried sick, pissed off or both.

Behind them, you could only just see another gathering of bodies that was leaving the pitch. A sea of high-vis jackets, some emblazoned on their backs with 'Security' and others 'Police'.

"Fucking maniac." You hear one of the girls around you say, "How'd they let that happen?" Someone else asks to no one in particular, "Stupid dickhead, should throw him in the sea." A third voice suggests angrily and the accent leaves little room for candidates who's surname isn't McCabe.

You feel some of the girls pat you on the shoulder or rub your back, and Beth takes one of your hands in her own, hands disappearing from your face so they can help you stand up before the wall of Arsenal red parts to let in the team physio and doctor who quickly disapprove of the idea and sit you back down before you've even had the chance to get your bum off the grass.

A light is flashed in each of your eyes, causing you to wince, and you're bombarded with a series of questions that lead you to assume the pair are checking for a concussion. But- after what feels like forever, with the hairs on your skin standing up as you become increasingly aware of what a cold night it is now that the warmth from your exertion during the game has worn off- the two medical professionals get up from their crouched position and carefully help you stand up too.

The crowd cheers for the development and you let out a breath, shaking your head with a small, cynical smile as you were met with looks of sympathy from your teammates. The side of your head still hurt, but it had diminished to the point that you could probably ignore it, though it was still far from comfortable.

"Had to happen to me, eh?" You say to Beth, who can't help but let out a short breathy laugh.

"Maybe he's an Everton fan." Jen proposes and you laugh with a nod. "Left it a bit long, didn't he?" Steph replies with a feigned confusion.

You walk to the bench with the physio, doctor and Beth, with the rest of the team giving you a few more supportive words and pats on the back before heading back to their places on the pitch. It wasn't as if they were going to cancel the game over one rowdy wanker, after all, besides there was less than ten minutes left.

"Are you okay?" Jonas asks as you approach the Arsenal bench and you nod, being brought in for a quick hug before he adds, "That was totally unacceptable. We'll need to address it with the club. Get more security." He sounds angry, and not just with your assailant. You hadn't really had the time to process what had happened given how fast it had all been, but as you sit down at the team bench, receiving another warm reception from the girls there, the ones who'd been playing in the first half, you begin to get where he's coming from. How could that be allowed to happen? What if the guy had a weapon? What if-

"My girl." Your thoughts on what could have happened are interrupted by an unmistakable voice, Leah. Putting that Southern pronunciation on the word 'girl' that you loved so much, but sounding just as worried as everyone else who'd spoken to you did. The blonde wastes little time in leaning down to envelop you in a hug from where you sit, and you return it with a smile, letting out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding in, and it coming out shaky much to your confusion. You felt fine.

"Good thing you weren't on the pitch, otherwise that prick probably wouldn't have left it." You joke with a small smile as the two of you pull apart and Amanda to your left budges up so Leah can sit down next to you, her brows furrowed in that steep arching frown she liked to do. The match in front of you continues as it had before. Alessia sits on your right, trying to be considerate by not unnecessarily intruding but occasionally giving you a side glance with a smile.

"Honestly, if they hadn't gotten to him first. Fucking wanker." Her blue eyes dart to the side, momentarily looking out to the pitch before returning to you. She reaches out an arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you close, you have no objection, and you can't resist the amused huff of air you let out at the thought of what Leah might have done if she had been there and had two properly working legs.

A small comfortable silence settles between you both until the defender asks, "You alright?" and you nod almost on instinct, giving her a smile. "Yeah. Head hurts a little, but I did just get punched." You joke, but Leah doesn't laugh, or even smile, instead penetrating you with those deep blue eyes. "I know that, dummy, they wouldn't sit you on the bench if you were hurt like that. I meant the other kind of alright."

You shrug and for the first time since you'd seen her, your eyes drift off to the pitch and you shift in your seat. Yeah, you were fine. But, the idea that you might not be didn't sit right with you, or rather, the idea that Leah and by extension the rest of the team might not think you are.

"You mean if I'm all... shaken up? Quaking in my boots?" You retort with some dry wit and a slight smirk, putting some faux dramatism on your words as you glance back to Leah for a moment before returning your eyes to the game. You felt fine, but the question seemed to stir something in you, applying a light pressure to your chest that wasn't there before. You didn't like it.

Leah didn't seem amused and you feel her stare boring into the side of your face, inspecting you almost. "Yeah." Is her short reply, as if she isn't looking to entertain your attempts at humour. As if she takes the incident more seriously than you do.

You shrug again and look over to the blonde with an expression that borders between nonchalance and indifference. "Then yeah, I'm all good in that department too. If fucking Jack Grealish can handle a punch then I think I'll be fine." That one seems to have some effect on Leah's stern, concerned demeanour and she gives a small smile, shaking her head slightly as if reprimanding herself for not knowing better to expect any other kind of answer from you.

But she tightens her arm around you just a bit regardless, pulling you in just a little more than you already were, even as she turns away to face the pitch as the game approaches the final whistle, her eyes lingering on you a little longer. "Alright.. but if that changes, you know I'm here, right?" She asks with a sincerity that makes you a little uncomfortable, partly because you'd always been a little awkward around more heartfelt exchanges of emotions, and partly because.. well you couldn't really figure out that other feeling, but it adds to that small pressure on your chest.

"Yeah, I know." You get out with a firmness, more to reassure the defender that you'd be willing to open up in that sense than anything else. You weren't sure if you ever would, even if your feelings did change. But, you were.. confident that they wouldn't. You felt fine, after all.

The final whistle blows not long after.

.....

The hum of fluorescent lights fill Meadow Park's comparatively humble locker room as the team trickles in, sweaty and exhausted from a relatively hard fought win. There's the usual post-match banter, the teasing, the recounting of the odd tackle and the two winning goals. But there's also a.. tension in the air, an undercurrent of concern and empathy directed toward one player in particular and unfortunately you're all too aware of it.

You take your usual spot by your locker, trying to blend in with the post-game routine as seamlessly as you can. You begin to unlace your boots, your fingers working with a rehearsed, mechanical precision. You didn't like it when people fussed over you, and you always tended to think that their attention was better spent or even better deserved elsewhere. You didn't really like being the centre of attention either, positive or negative. So, sitting here, and knowing that every now and then a different set of eyes would glance over at you, or that every second conversation featured you in some capacity, it wasn't a fun feeling, even if all of it derived from the most kind intentions.

You slip your cleats off and lean back against your locker as you sit in your cubby, looking up at the ceiling and releasing your second shaky breath of the night against your will. That pressure on your chest hasn't gone away and it's beginning to annoy you as you close your eyes and try to relax yourself, feeling oddly tense.

Between the chaos of the initial aftermath, your conversation with Leah and some of the banter you'd tried to get yourself involved with during the short walk to the locker room after their celebration, you hadn't really had the time (or the desire) to really think back to the incident or process it. It'd happened what? Thirty minutes ago? Yet, it already felt significantly longer.

Your hand reaches up absentmindedly to rub at your right temple as images flash one after the other of the experience. You on the ground, Beth kneeling in front of you and those two words that you hadn't even recalled until now. "Stupid cow." You scratch at your temple for a moment and open your eyes, shaking your head for a second or two as if to ward off the memory.

You let out another breath, and while this one isn't quite shaky, your breathing has gotten a little heavier.

Your hands clasp together and your fingers interlock as you idly rub your thumbs up and down the hand opposite to the one they each belong to. That pressure on your chest makes itself known a bit more and you swallow, your eyes surveying the locker room, not quite knowing what you're searching for but compelled to do it all the same. Why would someone do that? Why would a person just run out onto the pitch and hit a player? Hit you?

"Relax." You tell yourself.

It doesn't do much, and you have to put a hand down onto your knee to stop one of your legs from tapping itself up and down. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" You internally ask yourself. You felt fine. You had felt fine five minutes ago. You had felt fine after being punched in the side of the head. Why are you feeling like this now?

You shift in your cubby and take a deep breath (another shaky one, much to your frustration), trying to regain control of yourself. That fucking weight on your chest is still there.

"Y/N." You hear someone- Katie- say nearby, and you curse to yourself. "Yeah?" You ask with a slightly raised brow, trying to remain lowkey as you look to your left to see the forward standing not too far away next to her own cubby, shoving her boots into a large black duffel bag as she stares at you, most of the other girls are still in their own conversations. Thank God.

"You good?" She asks the question that you've become almost annoyingly familiar with in the past half hour and like before you nod impulsively. Though unlike then you're no longer quite so confident in the honesty of that natural response. "Yeah, all good. Why? Am I getting a bruise?" You say in an attempt to be light hearted, giving the brunette a small smile, but she only frowns back, causing you to swallow.

"Nah, just seemed like you were.. thinking 'bout something."

You break your stare and go back to what you're supposed to be doing, getting changed, leaving Katie unsatisfied as you find your own duffel bag next to you and begin putting your cleats into it. You begin to feel a slight burning at the bottom of your throat but try to ignore it, feeling the corners of your lips reactively curl downward even as you busy yourself with getting changed.

"Fucking idiot." You angrily say to yourself on the inside. "Stop being such a baby." You take off your Arsenal shirt and shove it into the bag with an unusual amount of force. That pressure on your chest grows heavier and your breathes with it. You aren't sure why you feel this way and you hate it. You've never felt like this before and you hate it. Why is this happening? You were fine before.

"Y/N." Your name is called again, only this time it's Leah, and she's standing right behind you, causing you to jump just slightly. Your heart beating a little quicker as you'd been facing your locker, back turned to the rest of the team. Katie must have gotten her.

You take your third shaky breath of the evening before responding with a falsely inquisitive, "Yeah?" as if you hadn't a clue what she'd want to talk to you about. You continue to face your locker, opening it up to take out your casualwear to give yourself a valid reason not to turn around.

"You wanna come with me? Need to talk." She says with a nonchalance that is deceptive. Ordinarily, if Leah needed to talk with someone, she wouldn't hesitate in using her regular old sternness to get the importance across. But, right now? Her tone was light and casual and you weren't an idiot. You know that she was treating this like some kind of sensitive situation when it wasn't. You'd gotten punched by some dickhead and that was it, end of story. It probably happened to a thousand people every day in Britain and you were no different.

"Yeah.. just lemme get dressed first." You reply, sliding on your trousers and feigning your own coolness and composure, though not nearly to the same effectiveness as Leah. Your breathing's still heavy and with each passing moment you begin to feel a growing sense of claustrophobia when you'd never suffered from that in the past. You want air. Maybe you need it. But, you can't let that show.

"Mind turning round, Y/N? It's bad manners not to look at someone when they're talking to you."

You won't let it show.

"Look, Leah. If this is about that dickhead again, I told you I'm all good." You retort dismissively, wanting to put the questioning to bed.

That pressure grows heavier.

"Well, I don't think you are."

Your heart beats faster.

"Oh, and what? You're in my head now are you?" Your frustration peaks through the façade.

Why are they still asking you about it?

"No. I just know when my friends aren't okay." Leah's concerned tone fades and she takes on a sterner one, a tough love one.

Why aren't you fine?

"Well you might want to get your radar checked because I'm fucking fine, Leah." Your brows furrow and you almost grit your teeth as that burning sensation creeps further up your throat. You shouldn't have sworn.

The rest of the locker room is becoming quieter.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Everyone's looking at you.

"Because you're fucking bothering me!" You yell angrily. And if there had been any conversations left in the room, they cease instantly, cloaking the team in a deafening silence.

You swallow and it almost hurts your throat. You blink and your eyes have a wetness in them that wasn't there ten seconds ago. Your chest lifts and falls dramatically and your hands have a light tremor in them.

But, you were fine ten minutes ago.

You feel a pair of hands take you gently by your waist and you presume them to be Leah's, having that presumption confirmed quickly as the defender turns you around slowly to face her. You don't resist, but you feel almost ashamed as you're rotated to face the rest her and the rest of the girls. You can't even look any of them in the eye, with your eyes dropping to the ground and becoming fixated on your feet because it's easier than looking at anything else.

"You're okay, my girl. You're safe." Leah says, her sternness morphing seamlessly into an almost painfully sincere softness and care as you're pulled in slowly for another hug, though your arms hang almost limply by your sides. You don't know what to do, or what to say, but you feel a stinging in your eyes and a pain in your throat that's becoming more pronounced by the second.

You bury your head into Leah's shoulder because you know you're about to cry, and you feel a surge of intense shame at the realization. Your arms reach up and finally wrap themselves around Leah. You know the rest of the girls are watching you, and it's embarrassing, but you don't know what else to do. You don't feel safe.

"I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me." You finally let out into the blonde's shoulder, feeling the first tears roll down your cheeks. "I was okay and then.. this shit just came out of nowhere. I'm sorry."

Leah pulls away from you, but only slightly, one of her hands lifting your chin to level with her as she looks you dead in the eye, while her other hand reaches up to stroke your cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry about, understand? Nothing. No one thinks any less of you for this, Y/N."

You aren't entirely sure if that's true or not, but Leah, being the natural leader that she is, had a way of making people believe things or feel them even if they otherwise wouldn't. And you're not immune to that effect, nodding somewhat hesitantly in agreement, but nodding regardless as you feel that pressure on your chest lighten ever so slightly.

"The pitch should be a safe place for us and that dickhead tried to take it away." You hear Beth speak up, both to you but also to the rest of the room, with nods and murmurs of concurrence following throughout. Concern and heartbreak can easily turn to anger and a need for justice, and even in your frustratingly vulnerable state, you can see that change begin to take place in the confines of the locker room as the scene between you and Leah made it perfectly clear to everyone that you had been effected by that attack on more than just a physical level.

"Everyone's here for you, alright? Nothing like that is ever gonna happen again. Not to you, or anyone else in this game." Leah says, that steeply arched frown returning to her expression as a hint of determination reaches through her words.

She wipes away some of the tears that hadn't quite made their way down your cheeks and pulls you back into the hug, running her hand in circles along your back. "We're gonna make sure he regrets ever coming to this game." The Vice-Captain whispers into your ear with an intensity that almost makes you shiver, and in that moment, you find a piece of your confidence back.

You were confident that the girls had your back. You were confident that Leah would do whatever it took to get justice, and you were confident that one day that wanker would indeed regret ever even coming near you. But, most importantly, you were confident that you wouldn't allow him damage you, that you wouldn't allow him to have anymore significance in your life than a fucking footnote. Regardless of whatever happened next, revenge or not, justice or not. You were simply more valuable than that, and the girls would always help to remind you of that, even if sometimes it was hard to see.

Sometimes, your team felt like more than just a team, and tonight was one of those times.

///

End Notes: Hey, everyone! So this has been my first ever woso fic. I'm still trying to get to grips with pacing and getting some proper good angst, but I hope this is an enjoyable read and a good start!

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal women #awfc #reader insert #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #woso community #leah is going to fuck shit up

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obsessedwithceleste · 20 days

Text

Daisy Chains and Kept Promises

George Weasley x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: George Weasley was never one to break a promise. Especially not one sealed by a daisy chain ring.

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the first sunny afternoon in what seemed like forever, but in reality had only been a few days, and the residents of the burrow were eager to escape onto the vibrant, green lawn.

“Fred, George you stay out of trouble now!” Molly shouted from the kitchen as you run out the door with the twins.

“Come on now, it’s our last summer before they ship us off to Hogwarts! We gotta make the most of it!” Fred replies, sprinting out to the shed where the Weasleys stored all their brooms.

“Hurry up Georgie, or I’m taking the good broom!” You tease as you race past the other boy, snatching the best broom from the rack before he has the chance to protest.

“Aw c’mon! Why’s she always get the good one?” Ron complains as he catches up with you all.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” George retorts, not bothering to give his youngest brother a second glance.

The four of you spend the afternoon zooming across the field, a beat up quaffle tossed between you in carefree bliss as the sun shines down on you and Ginny watches from the ground below.

Eventually you all tire and you find yourself lying in the shade of the old oak tree that loomed over the garden. Thankfully the rain had scared off the gnomes that had a habit of sneaking into the garden for a tasty treat.

“Show me how to make those daisy crowns? Like the muggles?” Ginny asks, bringing over fists full of the little white flowers.

“Not now Ginny,” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes at the young girl.

“No, no, we can do it now,” you argue, patting the ground next to you, gesturing for the younger girl to sit beside you.

“Yeah, let her stay,” George agrees, smiling fondly at you.

Fred snorts at his brother, eyes rolling once more.

“You always side with her, you’re supposed to be my twin! How are you two going to survive without each other?” Fred retorts, leaning back against the tree.

“It’ll only be a year, then y/n can join us in the fun,” George replies happily.

“Oh at this point you might as well just marry her,” Fred responds with a huff.

You feel your cheeks begin to grow red and you turn to focus all your attention on the young girl beside you, showing her how to intricately wrap the stems together to form a chain of daisies.

You’d known the twins for as long as you could remember. You’d practically grown up with them. Your father Remus did the best he could raising you on his own, he really did, but it was hard. Especially on full moons. The Weasleys always took you in on those nights, often resulting in you staying for days while Remus recovered.

George had had a soft spot for you since the beginning, always being the slightly softer twin while Fred was more severe and brash. You could remember a particularly bad night when it had been storming, the loud thunder making you shake with fear. George had stayed up with you all night, making sure the storm didn’t get you. You had been seven at the time.

It had started back then you supposed, your little crush. It had confused you at first as you had thought of all the boys as your brothers, but now, at the ripe old age of ten, you could tell that Georgie was different from the other Weasley boys.

“There!” George announces excitedly, shaking you from your thoughts as he brandishes a single daisy up into the air, its stem tied rather roughly in a small circle.

Without warning, he grasps onto your hand, sliding the makeshift ring onto your finger, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There. You’re my wife now,” he says proudly as you stare at the little flower adorning your finger.

“You didn’t do it right! You have to ask her to be your wife. Everyone knows that!” Ginny exclaims, watching the two of you with a dopey little grin on her face.

“Oh. Right. Y/n, will you be my wife?” Georgie asks, batting his eyes dramatically at you and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes I will,” you reply with a laugh, admiring the pretty daisy that now sat on your finger.

“You two are so gross,” Fred says, making a face.

“Oh, oh! Do the promises! The ones where you say I do!” Ginny urges excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Alright. Do you promise to always laugh at my jokes, always be there for me when I need you, and always take my side when we argue with Fred?” George asks.

Fred begins to make dramatic gagging sounds.

“I do.” You reply with a giggle as Fred just glares at you. “And do you promise to always make me smile, always protect me, and always make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep?”

“I do.”

It was dark. The whole house was dark really. All the time. Dimly lit and constantly smelling like mold and rotting wood. And the furniture seemed to be permanently damp, the coldness settling into your bones.

You hated it here at Grimmauld Place. The constant shrieking of decrepit, old portraits, the eerie feeling of constantly being watched. The only positive attribute about living in this wretched place was the fact that Remus had never been happier.

It had taken months to do it, but after Harry had been able to help Sirius escape the dementors, Dumbledore had inconspicuously been able to move Sirius into Grimmauld place where you had been staying ever since.

It had been strange at first, no doubt. You had only just met the man, but he grew on you quickly. Like a fungus. You loved seeing how comfortable he made Remus who visibly softened whenever the other man was near. And you hadn’t seen Remus smile as wide or as often, well ever. You could tell that the two of them were just meant to be side by side, and honestly, that was enough for you. Especially in dark times like these.

“Lighten up love, we have a surprise for you before dinner,” Remus announces, entering the drawing room where you sat wrapped in a pile of blankets, a book in hand as you tried to ignore the screeching bag lady in entry way portrait.

“Is it another one of those horrendous sweaters that Sirius keeps digging up from somewhere?” You ask, nose scrunching at the thought of another one of the putrid smelling things being presented to you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you detested the nasty things, so you had been giving them to Kreacher to dispose of rapidly. “I know I keep telling him that they’re lovely, but how many of the things does he think I need?”

Remus just laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve told him to move onto something else, but he’s determined to fill your wardrobe I think. But no. It’s not another sweater. For now at least. No, I do believe you’ll quite enjoy this little surprise.” He tells you before leaving you to your book and your thoughts.

Dinner time couldn't come fast enough as you eagerly eyed the clock every fifteen minutes, only to be disappointed by how little time had gone by.

About thirty minutes before the three of you usually ate dinner, you began hearing a chorus of voices coming from the entry way. And not the familiar voices of the Black family portraits.

"Well where is she then?" a loud voice asks.

Hearing the voice, you immediately perk up, not quite believing you'd heard correctly. This place might be driving you mad.

"Oh bloody hell mate, don't seem too eager now," comes the sarcastic response.

You'd know those voices anywhere. Practically throwing yourself from the couch, you eagerly scramble to the door and down the staircase to be greeted by the whole Weasley family grinning up at you.

"Look Georgie, there's your wife, don't get your knickers in a twist now," Fred scoffs.

You fly into George's arms, sighing contentedly as his arms wrap securely around you.

"Well hello to you too," you hear him laugh as he gives you another squeeze before releasing you.

You hadn't seen him, or the other Weasley's for that matter, in what felt like ages. He and Fred had grown their hair out, and you didn't quite remember them being so tall last you saw them. His smile never changed though.

Bashfully, you greet the rest of the Weasley bunch, even Fred giving you a quick hug, before rubbing the top of your head affectionately and effectively tossling up your hair. You stick your tongue out at the boy in response, batting his hand away.

"I missed you all, so much! I've been going absolutely bonkers being here alone for so long," you tell them.

"Well not to worry love, we'll be here all summer. Hermione too, though she's not coming for another few weeks." George tells you.

Feeling eyes on you as you laugh with the boys, turning to see both Sirius and Remus gazing at you intently, eyes flickering between you and George.

Sirius silently points at you, then George before drawing a line across his neck with his finger before giving you a wink. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as you turn back to the boys.

"What are you all doing here?" you ask eventually as the adults begin to file into the kitchen.

"Came to be used as house elves of course," Fred replies, earning him a nudge from George.

"Mum said that Sirius volunteered the house to be headquarters for the Order," Ron butts in.

"Yeah, then mum volunteered us to help clean the place up," Ginny adds.

You make a face at that.

"We have a lot of work to do then, this place is disgusting," you tell them, leading them up the stairs to the room you'd been staying in. On your way up the stairs, George's hand never leaves yours, fingers intertwined as you guide him up the dusty staircase.

"Long as there aren't any spiders," Ron replies, eyeing the spiraling stairs with suspicion.

You just look back at the boy with concern, pity overtaking your face as his own face turns pale.

For once Grimmauld place was silent. A rare luxury you'd found, especially since the Weasley's had moved in. Not that you minded, the red headed family made the grim, old place feel alive and vibrant. Something you thought the it needed desperately. But you liked the quiet too.

It had been a strange couple of weeks as everyone, the adults especially, seemed to be on high alert. And who could blame them? Hermione had just moved in, sharing a room with you and Ginny. You could hear their breathing now as you stared up at the dark ceiling above.

After the Weasley's arrival, you had all spent countless hours decluttering Grimmauld place. Sweeping, dusting, banishing the more mouthy portraits to the attic. It was hard work, but you had loved every second of it with George making you laugh until you keeled over, tears streaming down your face. His presence just made everything better. You thought so at least.

In the darkened room, your mind drifts to the conversation you had heard between the adults just hours ago. It definitely wasn't a conversation you had been meant to overhear, but Georgie had given you a pair of extendable ears that he and Fred had developed, and you just couldn't help yourself.

"Oh really Sirius, they've all practically grown up together, George would never do anything to hurt her," Molly had said.

At the mention of George's name, you just had to find out what they were talking about.

"We never said he was going to do anything malicious, we just don't want to see her get hurt," Remus replied with a heavy sigh.

Her?

"They're practically adults, you can't protect her forever. So what if they fancy each other? They're not children!" Molly retorts.

"Oh that's rich coming from you. Just the other day you were going on about young witches and wizards rushing into marriage during the first war. And how many times have you told the twins that they're forbidden from joining the Order hmm? They're adults, Molly, you can't protect them forever," Sirius responds.

"Oh but at least I've done all I can to protect them up to this point. What have you done for y/n? Nothing. Because you've been locked up!" Molly spits. You can hear the fury in her voice.

Your fists ball up in rage at her comments. None of it was Sirius's fault. He didn't do anything wrong. How dare she?

"That's enough!" you hear Remus cut in, a sharpness in his voice that you hadn't heard before. "We weren't coming to attack George, or the way you raised any of the children. We were simply raising our concerns, as any good parents would. Now that we've made our point, if you don't wish to interfere, fine. We won't either."

After that the only thing you had heard was the shuffling of feet as they abandoned the dining room. They had most definitely been talking about you. No doubt about it. You hadn't realized they were concerned about you. They never said anything. And it was only Georgie. The two of you had been married for six years now. In all the ways that mattered to you at least. He would never hurt you. In fact, he'd made it a promise.

Mind racing and unable to sleep, you slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you slowly creep to the drawing room that you so often took refuge in. To your surprise however, a dim light was already flickering inside when you approached, and a familiar head of red hair sat facing away from you on the sofa.

"Georgie?" You whisper cautiously, not wanting to spook him.

His head turns in surprise, but his face lights up when he sees you.

"What are you doing this up this late, love?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same."

"Fair enough. Just a lot on my mind I suppose."

"Me too," you reply.

A silence falls between the two of you as you stand, watching mesmerized as the light flickers on and off of the boy's handsome face.

"Want me to make you a hot chocolate?" George asks finally.

A smile grows on your face and you instantly perk up at the mention of your favorite treat. George always knew how to put you to sleep, and he always made the best hot chocolate. Nodding enthusiastically, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen where George begins gathering supplies.

One thing you'd always admired about him was that he never minded doing things the muggle way. While Fred was always quick to magic his way through things, George was content taking his time.

"Help stir the milk so it doesn't burn?" he asks, gesturing to the pot now on the stove.

You silently take the wooden spoon from his hand, fingers brushing ever so slightly, before focusing on the task at hand. George sets out two mugs on the counter before helping you melt in the chocolate.

It all felt terribly domestic. As if there wasn't a sociopathic murderer on the loose. Like it was just the two of you.

It isn't long before George is pouring the dark liquid into the mugs, sprinkling in a few little marshmallows and a cinnamon stick or two and the both of you are retreating back up to the drawing room.

The first sip sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine as you lean into George who wraps his free arm around you. You pull a blanket over you and revel for a moment in the comfort.

"Care to share what's been on your mind?" George asks, breaking the silence.

"Only if you go first," you reply, not quite sure how to explain that he was really the only thing on your mind these days.

George just sighs. "It's nothing you we haven't told you before," He tells you. "Mum is just fighting for her life to keep Freddie and I out of the Order, but Moody agrees with us. We're of age. There's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Will you be safe?"

"Safe as can be. Mum has made sure they don't give us any real missions. Just patrolling Diagon Alley since that's where we set up shop."

You simply nod your head, letting it fall against the boy's chest as you feel his even breathing and let it overtake you. You'd never admit it out loud, but you were grateful for Molly to an extent. The twins had an abysmal lack of self preservation skills, and you didn't know what you would do if you lost Georgie.

"And what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You feel your shoulders shrug as you think carefully of what to say.

"I overheard our parents talking today," you mumble, not exactly sure where you were taking this.

"Oh?"

"Dads are worried about us," you tell him, hiding your face in his chest.

"Worried?"

"I dunno. They said something about your mum talking about how a lot of wizards and witches rushed into marriage during the first war, and there was a lot of talk about you being of age and what not. It got intense. There was a lot of yelling."

You feel George's chest rumble with soft laughter at your words.

"Well that's a silly thing to be worried about considering we've been married for years now at this point," he says.

You're not sure if he's joking or not. Maybe the exhaustion was finally getting to you.

"I'm being serious Georgie. I didn't know they were so worried about me. And Sirius sounded so upset," you reply, sitting up to take another long sip of your hot chocolate.

"So am I." he responds, looking you dead in the eye. The usual mischievous gleam is gone this time and you know he's never been more serious about something. "You know I'm not one to break a promise."

The air grows heavy as you feel yourself freeze for a moment at his words before you sink back into his warm embrace.

"I still have it you know. Your ring. Your mum charmed it for me so it wouldn't wilt. She knew all along," you tell him.

"She tends to have a sixth sense when it comes to these kinds of things."

Another silence falls between the two, but this time, the silence brings comfort as you feel your eyes growing heavy. George tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. It was later then you had realized.

"I'm glad it's real for you too," you murmur, leaning further into the boy as your eyes flutter close. Something about being in George's arms provided a sense of security you couldn't find anywhere else.

"It was always real. I'd never break a promise to you, love."

bby's first non-slytherin boy fic🫣

don't ask me if I edited this- the answer is no and I don't want to talk abt it💀

tag list: @sol-lupin-black @breeistired

#harrypotter fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred weasley #harry potter universe #gryffindor #golden era #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #gryffindor boys #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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kookslastbutton · 11 months

Text

Sidelines ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Best friends since university, Yoongi has always been the first one rushing to your side. But when you fall into his arms after, yet again, another heartbreak, Yoongi reaches his breaking point.

Pairing: best friend!yoongi x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends2lovers, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: cursing, impulsive confession, sexual content, also reader's true feelings are left a bit open ended

Sexual warnings: dom!Yoongi, slight brat!sub!reader, unprotected sex (don't follow thier lead!), begging, spanking, penetration, f*ngering, cunn*lingus, t*t play, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (princess), slight degradation (b*tch)

Now playing: Love The Way You Lie, Infinity, Escapism+

A/N: Had this idea for a while so when I tell you I sprinted through this oneshot, I SPRINTED. I had so much fun writing this and it’s def going in my personal favorites even though it may be a bit melodramatic and short. Enjoy! 💞

Yoongi stares at his phone–waiting.

Waiting for your name to pop on the screen.

Waiting for your shaky voice to ring through the phone, asking to come over.

Waiting for you to throw yourself into him in desperation to be held.

It should happen anytime now. Why haven’t you called yet? He’s thinking about making the first move but no. That would look too suspicious.

"Dude, you gotta tell her.” Namjoon looks at his friend with deep compassion. He’s known Yoongi since college. Knows the type of heart he carries in his chest. It’s beautifully devoted, warm, and open. But this time…this time it’s too much.

"It's not my place Joon,” Yoongi rasps. “I made a promise.

Yoongi thinks back to the day he met you. It was a cool autumn morning and you were poking around every brick building, nearly walking in circles. It was clear you were searching for something. Turns out it was the dining hall, which was no easy task to find with the campus being the size it was. You were a transfer student and being a recent transfer himself, Yoongi gladly walked you over. That became the first of many memories you’d share together.

Late study nights where you’d fall asleep on his shoulder. Stealing his sweatshirt with a devious yet playful smile. Always having not one pack of gum, but three in your bag. You loved gum for some odd reason. By senior year, Yoongi missed those days most and he wanted more than anything to tell you that a peice of himself was with you. How could he tell you though when you had begun spending every night with the captain of the hockey team? No, he wasn’t going to get in the way.

But he really should have. Heartbreak number one came when you found out your lovely hockey boyfriend had his tongue down some chick’s throat at a frat party. You’re kicking yourself for ever bawling your eyes over that jerk. Perhaps more pressing however is that Yoongi knew your boyfriend wasn’t a great guy. He even tried dropping hints that you ought to be careful with him but you didn’t listen. Despite everything, Yoongi was still the first to show up beside you that day. You won’t forget it.

Now four years out of university, you have a new man of the year who is, for the first time, genuine. Or at least that’s what you think. Yoongi knows otherwise. Just the other day he overheard said boyfriend planning to break up with you. When Yoongi stepped out to confront him, your boyfriend begged that he be the one to tell you. Yoongi promised he wouldn’t say anything which is what brings him to this very moment now.

"You can't keep doing this,” Namjoon urges. “Being her saving grace, her constant shoulder to cry on. It's not fair especially when–”

"She's my friend. I'd do it for you too."

“Bullshit. You’re still in love with her and she doesn’t even think twice about it. She still thinks of you as her older brother.”

“So let her think of me that way. A friend, an older brother…I can't turn my back on her after all this time. I won't."

“All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her.”

The truth in Namjoon’s words stings, pricks like thorns. Yoongi wishes they didn’t but the tensing of his muscles and the heat steadily climbing the back of his neck were clear signs that he couldn't repulse them.

“It’s too late for–__!”

Yoongi's eyes instantly gravitate to his cell vibrating against the coffee table. He snatches it in seconds, bringing it to his ear.

“Yoongi! I–he….Yoongi he ended it with me," you say, voice cracking. Though not in front of him, Yoongi could see the tears trickling down your cheeks. He could feel the sunkenness deep in your heart. He shared this pain with you many times before and it burned stronger each time. "I'm shocked. I didn’t think…I’m sorry I’m having trouble thinking and–and speaking. Yoongi, please, please can I come over? Or can you come here? I know it's late but I just really need to be with someone right now.”

Yoongi turns his gaze to Namjoon who mouths the words 'don't' but he can't bring himself to agree. It goes against his nature and his devotion to you. Maybe his friend is right and you'll only ever see him platonically. One thing's for sure though–he can't lose you.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay there." Yoongi grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and bolts out the door.

"That jerk!" You splash cold water on your face, hoping it will clear your mascara-smudged face. Yoongi was about to come over and you looked like an absolute wreck. He couldn't see you like this again.

Quickly, you rush to your dresser and pull out a less wrinkled t-shirt and lounge pants. You head downstairs next to tidy up the space. You may or may not have had a tiny outrage after your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, told you he was leaving you. Yoongi couldn't see that either.

While cleaning your eyes prick with tears again. It hadn't registered to you now but there were reminders of your ex everywhere. Little gifts he'd given you. Pictures of the two of you on random excursions. How could he do this to you? You harden your face and stomp to the kitchen, searching for something big and black.

You start tossing everything in the garbage bag. Pictures, cards, trinkets, stuffed animals–it all went. And it felt good. It dried your tears. As you make your way around the room, you're suddenly stopped in your purge. A small smile breaks on your face when you see the gift Yoongi got you for graduation. It was a double picture frame with a vibrant orange leaf sealed inside. One photo was of you and Yoongi the first year you'd met. The other was the two of you on graduation day. Yoongi put this together to commemorate your friendship. He's still your day one, you sigh. Four years and he's still here to help you pick up the pieces.

"___!"

Thumpthumpthump

"It's me, open the door," Yoongi gruffs from the hallway. You drop the garbage bag and immediately stride over. You pat yourself down before letting him in.

"Yoongi, hi."

Yoongi takes your invitation and paces inside. "Bit of spring cleaning __?" Of course the garbage bag is the first thing he sees. You fiddle with your hands unsure what to say. "I'm sorry ___. He didn't deserve you."

You bury your face in his shoulder, biting back the growing temptation to cry. Yoongi brings you into a closer embrace. His arms hold firmly around your own shoulders. "Thank you for coming. I know it's late so I understand if you can't stay long."

"I'm here as long as you need." Yoongi pauses, recalling your brief conversation earlier on the phone. "You know you can cry around me ___."

"I'm f–"

"Fine?" Yoongi loosens his grip to look at you. "The clothes, the dried tears, the giant garbage bag in the living room? Needing someone to be here because you don't want to be alone tonight. What part is fine? Because I'm not. Neither are you." His thumb gently strokes your shoulders, soothing your tensed muscles. "So if you need to cry, yell, whatever. Do it."

Wetness caresses your cheeks again and this time you don't wipe them away. "Why does this keep happening?" Your voice cracks as you peer into your best friend's eyes. "They never love me. No one ever does."

His dark eyes soften and you nearly see them glass over through your own tear-filled eyes. You search Yoongi's face for a response but all Yoongi can hear is the echo of Namjoon's words – "All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her".

Yoongi is silent for a moment, mauling over what his friend said. You see him hesitating for the first time in a while. "So–so why do you choose them?" He chokes.

You're a little stunned. This isn't how this usually goes. If you didn't know any better you'd think there was an accusatory tone in your best friend's question. It's unnatural and you're slow to reply.

"Because..."

Yoongi stands still, concentrated on you.

"I don't know. Because they seem kind? And I want to give them a chance."

That's it? Yoongi isn't sure he's hearing you right. Surely there would be more to it. He expected so. Before he's able to retract the words they're already out. "Then what am I? I've never had a chance."

Reflexively, you push away from him. No. No this isn't happening. You must have misheard. "What do you mean?"

"From someone, I mean. No one ever given me the chance to be with them like that so you're very...uh very open." Lies. You're lying again, Yoongi thinks. But look how she broke away from you?

"Oh, I thought you meant...."

You know what? Screw it. Namjoon's right–"You're not turning your back on her by being honest".

"I did." He clenches his fists. "I meant it exactly how you interpret it. I–I love you. And if it isn't love it's damn close."

Your heart drops, mind scatters in twisted directions. You've heard of friends growing feelings for each other before but you never thought–why now? After four years of being next to each other and going out with all those guys. Why didn't he say anything? And when did it happen? Did he always feel this way? Oh my god.

"Sorry, I panicked," Yoongi continues. "But those guys you go out with? They don't care about you like I do. Every time they hurt you it makes me want to scream 'I'm here if you see us as anything more'. But I'm terrified to lose you ___. That's why I kept it to myself."

"Yoongi I–I don't know if..." You stop seeing his heavy eyes. You don't want to break his heart but you can't tell what you're feeling. You never took the time to think of him in these terms. But one thing was for sure. You walk up to Yoongi and take hold of his hand. "You'll never lose me. Do you hear me? You're my best friend and I could never let you go."

"But did you hear me?" Yoongi squeezes your hand. "I love you ___. I don't expect it to be reciprocated so...."

"We can try." Without thinking you close the distance between your best friend. You move to press a soft kiss to his lips but Yoongi lunges backwards.

"Please don't," he says. "You don't need to force yourself ___. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't supposed to be about me tonight, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. This is about us now, our friendship. I'm glad you told me and to be honest, I'm not saying no. I'm saying we can try."

Yoongi sighs and leans on the back of your couch, arms crossed and eyes downward. "You just got out of a relationship ___."

"Yeah so? We were only together for a few months. I don't even think I loved him."

"But you could have with more time."

You join Yoongi next to the couch. "I mean sure maybe if he didn't break up with me."

"___. Don't you see?" Yoongi turns his face towards yours. "We've had four years together. I don't want you to try to love me, I want you to love me naturally. Like I do. And if, after four years you don't then I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

"You're not pressuring me to do anything. You've always been there for me through everything and i care very deeply for you. Maybe I haven't thought of you as more than a friend because I didn't let myself to. Maybe I was too caught up in everyone else that I just..." You pause, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"What if we try and nothing changes? Or something happens and we break each other," Yoongi interrupts. "We'll never recover."

"Do you have that little faith in us?" You place a hand on his other shoulder, turning his whole body around. "Because I don't. Perhaps you're right that something might happen that makes things complicated. But I know we won't let it get out of hand. In fact, something beautiful might come out of this. Don't you want to find out?"

He does. Of course, he does. But was this how you really felt? "You were really upset earlier," he says. "I don't want to cloud your judgment, especially after what happened."

You lean into him closer, lips hovering over his. "I don't care about that anymore. All I care about is my best friend and I really, really want to give this a chance."

Yoongi searches for any hesitation. It's hard to do when you're mere inches from him. He's tempted to lean forward and close the distance completely– to say yes. So you do it for him.

You weave your hands through Yoongi's silky dark hair and press a firm kiss to his lips. He's disoriented at first but like a tidal wave, everything he's been holding back rushes out as he moves harder against you. You feel his hands travel down to the small of your back and snake around your waist. A tongue finds its way inside your mouth next. It dances with yours in a fiery passion. Your body burns up with every touch, every kiss. It's a foreign feeling but you welcome it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yoongi murmurs.

You give a faint smile and take his hand. "There's no one I'd rather do this with." You guide him down the hall and into your bedroom. Yoongi pulls you into another kiss, this time resting a pair of cool hands underneath the fabric of your t-shirt. You moan softly into the kiss and pull the t-shirt over your head.

"I'd tell you that you look beautiful but you already know that." Yoongi traces up your sides and along the band of your bra. It tickles for a moment but then you remember who you're with, where you are, and what you're doing.

"Not so fast," you pull back from his grasp and eye his covered chest. Yoongi picks up on your signal and rids himself of his shirt, revealing his smooth, tan torso. You've seen him shirtless before but when did he get so muscular?

With lust-blown eyes, you're pushed on your back next, sinking into your mattress. Yoongi hovers above you. A light peck is placed on your collarbone before moving to the valley between your neck and shoulder.

"Yoongi."

"Mm?"

"How long have you loved me?" Yoongi open-mouth kisses the ridge of your neck. You close your eyes, anticipating his response. "When did you know?"

"Last year of university when you started going out with that jackass on the hockey team." Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and looks at you. "What did you ever see in him? I thought you said you give the kind ones chances, not asses like him."

You nibble on your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck playfully. "Oh no, him? He was just hot. I wasn't really thinking very much when we got involved...if you know what I mean?" You raise an eyebrow but yelp when Yoongi digs his hands behind you to unhook your bra. He snaps the lacy fabric off the rest of your body and throws it on the ground.

"Yeah?" Yoongi gruffs. Well, who's little bitch are now? Answer me." He gives your left nipple a tug. You feel a wetness gather between your legs but it wasn't from the stimulation of your nipple. It was his tone, his demeanor. Yoongi never talked like this and it made all the hairs on your body stand.

"Are you–jealous?"

"Wrong answer princess." Yoongi pinches your nipple again. "I'll ask you again, who's bitch are you?"

"No ones." You flip the man over and straddle his waist. "Who's bitch are you?"

Yoongi growls and gives you a hard slap on your ass. When you let out a moan, the man underneath goes feral–riveting with desire. You're thrown on your back again with legs spread apart. Yoongi waits for your nod before yanking your pants off, along with your panties. He does the same to himself, cock hardening in your view. Fuck, you curse to yourself. You had no idea what he was packing until now.

Yoongi settles between your thighs and stares you dead straight in the eye. "We're gonna have a little competition princess. I'm gonna eat you out and if you finish without begging to have my cock then I'll be your bitch. Deal?"

You swallow hard and nod. Who knew your best friend was this nasty. "Deal," you reply, widening your legs. Yoongi smirks and runs a cool finger along your slit. You feel the pit of your core tighten upon contact but keep a straight face. "I thought you were eating me–fuck!"

Yoongi pushes in, breaching your walls as far as he could with his finger. He adds a second in after two pumps, focusing on your reaction. "There's something you should know ___." He begins circling his thumb on your clit, causing your head to throw back in the process. "I don't like brats. So if this was any other time, I'd probably already be fucking your tight, wet pussy. But it's our first time together." Yoongi retracts his fingers instantly, soaked with your cum. "I'll go easy on you."

"Shit." You claw at the sheets. Yoongi licks a long stripe up your folds, dipping between ever so often just to see your hips jolt. His hands dig into your inner thighs, driving your senses wild. "Ah! Yoongi!"

"Need to come princess?"

You struggle to reply, bringing a hand up to latch on his hair. "I–ah–I'm not even close-close yet!"

Hearing your response, Yoongi thrusts his fingers back in, creating a steady rhythm with his tongue. "Fuckfuckfuck!" you curse, knot twisting inside you. You feel Yoongi smirk that same cocky smirk from earlier as he continues eating you out. "Yoongi, I'm close now!"

"Are you? Beg for my cock and I'll let you come."

What the actual fuck? "You're such-ah-a cheater! Well I'm not gonna–fuck! Please, please I need to come."

No response.

"Okay...okayokay. Please, Yoongi, can I have your cock?" You immediately come, tightening your hold on his hair. "Oh my god Yoongi, you're so evil fuck!" You give him a slap on the chest once you release. Yoongi grins down at you and catches your wrist.

"Who's bitch are you?" Slowly, he crawls further up your body, pinning your arm above your head. He grabs your other arm and places it on top of the other. "Are you really not gonna say it?"

"Yours. I'm yours, Yoongi."

"Damn straight you are. Now keep them there." He squeezes your wrists together before placing his hands on either side of your head. He bends down and gives you a passionate kiss. "You really are beautiful ___. Are you still sure you wanna do this?"

"Please."

Yoongi caresses your check, aligns himself with your entrance, and pushes in. Your mouth falls wide, but nothing comes out for a moment. Once you adjust, you give a slight nod.

"Fuck." Yoongi moves inside you, penetrating through your velvety walls. Your eyes roll upwards as his close shut. "Oh god, Yoongi–faster please," you breathe.

Yoongi pushes deeper in you, his length pulling in and out of your hole at a rhythmic pace. Beads of sweat form along his forehead and your around your neck. You let out a loud moan once feeling the cord within you wind up again. Yoongi soon feels it too, quickening his speed.

"I can't believe we're doing this-ah shit!"

Your hands, struggling to stay down, jolt with every thrust. You look deep into Yoongi's eyes, his staring straight back into yours. You're both grinning too, like idiots really. "Me neither. But I'm glad we are."

Yoongi kisses you again. It's sloppier than before but you couldn't care less. "You're gonna come soon mm? Because I know I am. This pussy is so tight-fuck-it's basically swallowing my cock. Brat like you love this shit don't you?"

You laugh and rustle through his hair but your arm is pinned back down. Yoongi starts moving inside you as fast and hard as he can, breasts bouncing against his muscular chest. He so close and so are you. "Asked you a question princess."

Your back arches as he fucks into you. "Yes-yes we do! Fuck, I'm gonna come. If it doesn't happen now it'll–"

"Come for me __." Yoongi pushes himself into you one last time before both of you finish, gasping for breath. You feel his length pull out of you shortly after.

Side by side now, hot and sweaty, Yoongi looks at you. "What the fuck did we just do?"

You grin and leap on part of his chest. "We're giving us a chance."

"By starting with sex?" Yoongi throws an arm around you. "Let's do this properly and go on a date tomorrow."

You giggle and bury your head in his shoulder. Goof. Maybe, this does have a real chance of working out. "Okay," you whisper.

A/N: Thanks for stopping by! As always, lmk your thoughts. See ya! 💞

Masterlist

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts au #bts scenarios #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #fic:sidelines #kookslastbutton

970 notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months

Note

Can we hear about the day Lazard snapped from the firsts shenanigans?

The Day Lazard Finally Snapped

• It all starts when Angeal and Sephiroth are passing through the Skyview Hall when they spot Reeve with a baby in a holder strapped to his chest.

Angeal: Hey Reeve! I didn't know you had a child.

Reeve: I don't. This is my assistant's baby. I allow her to bring him in on occasion since childcare is hard to find. She asked me to watch him while she's in a meeting, but⏤

Sephiroth: What kind of mother abandons her child?

Reeve: ⏤but I have to meet with the editor of Architecture Weekly in ten minutes.

Sephiroth: What kind of mother abandons her child with a strange man who works for Shinra?

Angeal: I'm sorry to hear that, director.

Reeve: Wait, could you two watch him? It'll only be for an hour.

Angeal: I don't think⏤

*Reeve hands the child to Angeal, who is now sweating bullets*

Reeve: Great, thanks! By the way, I'm supposed to be locating some materia that went missing from the inventory this morning. Do you mind finding them for me? Here's the list.

*Reeve hands Angeal the list, Angeal hands the baby to Sephiroth, who holds it like a bomb with his arms outstretched*

Angeal: Reeve, I really don't think we⏤

Reeve: Great! See 'ya!

• Reeve literally sprints away. Angeal looks back at Sephiroth, who has now strapped the baby to the carrier on his chest. Angeal looks down at the list.

Angeal: Three Ifrit summons, sixteen fire materia, nine ice materia, thirty chocobo lures, four petrify materia, and seventeen lightning materia.

Sephiroth: The baby is crying because it wants its mother. I feel a strange kinship with this child.

Angeal: Why would someone need thirty chocobo lures??

Sephiroth: There, there. Don't cry because your mother abandoned you, rejoice because your father isn't Professor Hojo.

*Angeal grows exasperated and turns to Sephiroth*

Angeal: Seph, it's hungry. We need to feed it.

Sephiroth: Where will we find someone with functioning mammary glands on such short notice?

Angeal: FORMULA. GET THE FORMULA IN THE BABY BAG.

*The baby cries more, Sephiroth holds it closer to him*

Sephiroth: You're upsetting our child.

Angeal: IT'S NOT OUR⏤*Angeal takes a deep breath*⏤It's not our child, give it the baby formula, and let's go. We still need to find the culprit behind the stolen materia.

Sephiroth: Do you mind if we stop by Professor Hojo's lab first? I want to show him what competent fathership looks like.

Angeal: No. And you're acting insane. Here, give me the baby.

Sephiroth: I have only had this child for three minutes, but if anyone tries to hurt it or take it away I will kill everyone here.

Angeal: When this is all over, I'm signing you up for art therapy and getting you a cat.

• Lazard is away on a business trip and has left Genesis in charge. He's supposed to be getting work done, but instead he's sitting in Lazard's office with his feet up, reading a romance novel.

Genesis: I don't understand why Lazard complains all the time. This is the easiest position in this company.

•There's a violent crash right outside the office, followed by Zack's voice going "Wow! I didn't know the ceiling was that easy to break."

*Genesis gets up at the speed of light. He runs out and sees Zack and Cloud with tennis rackets*

Genesis: What are you doing? I thought I sent you far away on a mission to Cosmo Canyon.

Zack: We got back early! And since Angeal's busy there's no point in training. Plus, my mission report can wait until Lazard's back.

Genesis: And what's Strife doing here? Last I recall this is the SOLDIER floor, not the Infantrymen Who Look Like Baby Chocobos floor.

Cloud: Could've fooled me. I saw you and thought this was the Sephiroth Is Better Than Me So I Take It Out On Bad Poetry floor.

Genesis: Listen here⏤

*Zack jumps between them*

Zack: We were just playing some tennis! Where's the harm in that?

Genesis:

Genesis: Zack where's the ceiling

*They look up and six ceiling panels are missing*

Zack: We're playing pro tennis.

Genesis: Goddess.

Cloud: But we lost all of our balls and now we can't play anymore.

Genesis: Hm. Have you tried substituting them with something else?

Cloud: Like what?

Genesis: Materia are round and large enough to work.

Zack: Good idea, but we don't have any to spare.

Genesis: I have some.

*Genesis pulls a key out of his pocket, walks across the hall, and unlocks a supply closet where he pulls out a crate full of materia*

Zack: Woah! How many do you have in there?

Genesis: Three Ifrit summons, sixteen fire materia, nine ice materia, thirty chocobo lures, four petrify materia, and seventeen lightning materia.

Cloud: Why does the box say Property Of Shinra Electric Power Company? Wait, did you steal this??

Genesis: There is no such thing as stealing if your victim stole it from the planet.

Zack: Why thirty chocobo lures??

Genesis: Do not presume to question my actions.

• Sephiroth and Angeal have no leads on the missing materia, so they decide to go ask the turks for any information they have. They walk into a conference room where Tseng and Rufus are talking.

Tseng: WHY do you have a baby??

Sephiroth: Two men cannot raise a child without being criticized.

Angeal: We're babysitting.

Rufus: How may we help you?

Angeal: A crate of materia went missing from the inventory. Reeve asked us to locate it. Any chance you have an idea where it went?

Rufus: We were just going over the security footage, actually. A stunning, beautiful woman was seen entering and leaving with the stolen materia.

Tseng: Come take a look.

*They walk over and watch the security footage*

Sephiroth:

Angeal:

Angeal: That's GENESIS.

Tseng: Impossible. I had no idea Rhapsodos was a master of disguise.

Sephiroth: He's not even in disguise. He wore that dress to a Loveless performance yesterday. *said while he rocks the baby to sleep*

Rufus: Sephiroth, would you mind accompanying me to meet my father? I'd like to show him what adequate fathership looks like.

Sephiroth: Gladly.

Angeal: *exasperated* We'll get the materia back from Genesis, don't worry. There's no need to get involved, and we'll make him promise not to do it again.

Tseng: Actually, the issue is much more annoying. You see, the crate he stole contained faulty materia. We're not sure they even work, but if they do there might be some...explosive consequences.

Angeal: Don't worry, knowing Genesis, he's hording the materia somewhere until the search dies down and hasn't actually used it yet.

*The baby hasn't fallen asleep and is wide awake*

Sephiroth: Of course, how could I be so foolish? The baby needs to be tired out through playtime and proper enrichment first.

*Rufus takes a box of ammunition from his coat pocket and uses it as a rattle. The baby laughs*

Tseng: Sir, I don't think that's an appropriate toy for a baby.

Sephiroth: Nonsense. I had that toy when I was younger and I turned out fine.

Angeal: No the fuck you did not.

• Zack and Cloud's tennis match with materia is going smoothly. Genesis has made himself the umpire and is officiating the match. They're in Lazard's office so no one catches them slacking off.

*Cloud hurles a fire materia toward Zack at top speed. Zack shrieks and ducks*

Genesis: Five love.

Zack: No fair! He's just aiming it right at me!

Cloud: Because you're my opponent. That's how tennis works.

*Cloud sends another chocobo lure Zack's way that hits him right in the face*

Genesis: Six love.

Zack: WE GET IT, YOU'RE OBSESSED WITH LOVELESS. SHUT UP.

Genesis: ......

Cloud: I really need to get back and start getting ready for patrol tonight.

Zack: Nooo, come on! Just one more try! I'll beat you, you just watch.

• Cloud sighs and readies himself. Zack grabs a lightning materia and serves. Cloud hits the materia when it reaches him. Except this time it fuses with the tennis racket and starts hissing and billowing smoke. Cloud panics and lets the tennis racket drop. It starts glowing and vibrating.

• All of the littered materia on the office floor start emitting the same low whistle and vibrating, all at once.

• Genesis senses the incoming explosion. He grabs Zack and Cloud and dives under the desk.

• Lazard comes back from his business trip early. He's in the elevator thinking about the decision to leave Genesis in charge. He had initially meant to bequeath Sephiroth the responsibility, but felt for Genesis. They're always placing him second next to Sephiroth, constantly berating and expecting the worst from him.

• He thinks it's unfair. Genesis is one of the most competent SOLDIERs in the program. He's hardworking, responsible and authoritive. There's no doubt in Lazard's mind that everything is running smoothly in his absence.

*Lazard opens his office door*

• The three Ifrit summons went off and are raging, smashing the walls and ceilin. The fire materia also went off and now everything is on fire. It's shooting fire balls and one of them burned the office door clean off, shattering the glass. The ice materia has caused a raging blizzard inside the office and everything that isn't on fire is freezing over. The lightning materia is causing firework-like explosions to go off.

• Lazard stands there for a good five minutes, petrified (literally) (the petrify materia hit him)

• Once the last blast of lightning goes off and things seem to have quieted down, Genesis, Zack and Cloud poke their heads up from under the desk.

Zack: Hey, director! We didn't expect you back so early!

Cloud: How was the business trip? Have fun?

Genesis: My, my, director, that suit makes you look dashing. Have you done something to your hair?

• It's a poor choice of words because half of Lazard's hair is on fire.

*Angeal runs in*

Angeal: Genesis, you crook. Did you use Lazard's access card to steal all that materia?? Do you know how mad he's going to be when he finds out? He's already in trouble with upper management because he left you in charge.

*Zack points to Lazard in the corner, Angeal turns around*

Angeal: Oh. Oh no.

• And then the chocobo lures go off. Thirty grown chocobos come speeding into the office, two of them knocking Lazard to the ground.

• And then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, Sephiroth runs in with the baby.

Sephiroth: Angeal, how dare you abandon me and our child??

Angeal: Oh my god.

• The Firsts and Zack are sitting in the briefing room when Tseng walks in.

Tseng: Good morning. As you all know, Lazard has taken a medical leave. I'll be taking his place while he's away.

Genesis: How is he? I tried to visit him in the hospital yesterday, but apparently the mere mention of my name sent him into another cardiac arrest.

Tseng: He's sedated and fine. Don't feel discouraged. Two Seconds went in to visit him this morning, but all it took was one look at a SOLDIER uniform and he started screaming.

Angeal: If he quits, it's on Zack, Gen and Strife. Sephiroth and I were busy hunting materia and babysitting.

Sephiroth: No. You were looking for the materia. I was taking adequate care of the baby and giving it the attention its mother denied it.

Tseng:

Tseng: Sephiroth

Tseng: Sephiroth why do you still have the baby?

*They look over and sure enough, Sephiroth has the baby in a carrier strapped to his chest*

Sephiroth:

Sephiroth: I'm the most competent adult in its life.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core #zack fair #cloud strife #tseng ff7 #rufus shinra #storytime

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adore-laur · 2 months

Text

WINDS OF CHANGE

— my writing is a bit rusty, but here’s an update on dad harry & the fam <3 please reblog/comment, or i will haunt you

——

You've been dreading this day since March began.

Every time you passed the calendar on the refrigerator, you averted your eyes so you didn't see the specific date circled with the words "Lovebug's First Day" written inside it.

Time ticked by in an unyielding manner. Like an apex predator lying in wait, it crept up on you and pounced, leaving you disoriented, helpless, and wounded. You couldn't mentally process the breakneck speed of reality sprinting straight at you. When you merely blinked in a daze, another month unfurled, leaving no chance to recover.

The day arrived with a strong western wind and a brilliantly bright sunrise that mocked your low spirits. You're awake before anyone else, which is rare. Sleep evaded you last night, your eyes rejecting the heaviness that always comes with sleeping in Harry's warm embrace. The restlessness was paired with a fierce ache clutching your heart and holding on tight until the early morning.

At almost four years old, your eldest daughter is attending preschool today. After being a stay-at-home mom since she was born, you're finally setting her free to grow somewhere new. It was always in the cards, considering you would like to get back to working part-time to help provide for the family. You loved bonding with and nurturing both your girls, but you're eager to put your brain to use in a different environment. It's time to return to other identities besides being a mother and a wife.

You start brewing coffee, then open the kitchen curtains to allow the sun to pour in. For some odd reason, the atmosphere feels different. It feels like your first day of school all over again, where there's that nostalgic zest in the air fused with an underlying fear of the unknown. It's impossible to describe lucidly, but its presence is strongly felt nonetheless.

Today will forever change your family's routine, and it will make you want to rip your hair out and also burst with pride. There's a tug-of-war match taking place in your heart right now. Your nerves feel frayed—anxiety's merciless hands are harshly plucking at the threads. It's like fighting a biological battle with no shield. Your brain is futile against all the attacks.

The sound of the stairs creaking dissolves your whirlwind thoughts. Harry appears, wearing a snug black sweater and athletic shorts. He yawns, the sparkling sunlight accentuating his face gorgeously. The neatly trimmed scruff on his jaw he kept throughout winter. The tired shape of his eyes. The wispy way his hair curls after his morning shower. It's a blessing to be able to see the serene side of him that just woke up and isn't burdened by stress.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, taking the mug of black coffee you prepared for him and sipping with an appreciative hum. "Both kids are still asleep."

You simply nod, afraid that if you speak, your poise will crumble instantaneously. Your hands distract themselves by lighting the wick of a sandalwood-scented candle. A part of you falsely hopes the comforting aroma will calm you down, but you know nothing will break through the full-body anxiety you're currently experiencing.

"No cuddles in bed this morning?" Harry asks curiously, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He smells like his sage and citrus body wash. "I missed you. Thought we'd have a little cry session before leaving."

Did he really have to mention the elephant in the room? You force your tears to save their arrival for later and say, "Sorry. I'm just trying to avoid crying as much as possible today."

His sigh is weighted with emotion as he sets his mug down and begins massaging your shoulders. "I'm losing my composure already," he admits, laughing weakly.

At least he's in the same boat as you. Being a father has cracked him open in the best way possible—he's more softened than ever, and these parenting milestones always make him tenderhearted.

You rest your head against his chest and say, "This is harder than I thought it'd be." Every outcome you predicted involved an aching heart. Now, in the thick of it, you're defenseless.

"Remember our first night at home with her?" Harry asks, applying pressure with his thumbs to get rid of the muscle knots in your shoulder blades.

"Yeah. You woke me up because she had the hiccups."

He groans into your neck, almost like he's reliving the panicked moment. "I was so scared something was wrong."

You recall opening your eyes in the dead of night, the mellow lamplight illuminating Harry's troubled expression. Your baby, so small and precious in his arms, had harmless hiccups leaving her mouth. While half asleep, you reassured him by saying it was probably because she fed for too long. He agreed yet still brought her to bed and gently rubbed her tummy until they were gone. You two were learning and tag-teaming through pure exhaustion. It was tough, but the rewards came in refreshing waves.

"Then she threw up on me," Harry adds, shaking his head fondly.

You turn around and slide your palms under his sweater, feeling the gloriously warm skin of his sculpted stomach. "Remember when she said her first word?"

He smiles reminiscently. "Mama."

"You started crying, if I'm not mistaken."

"Because she recognized you. It was special."

"Are you surprised she didn't say Dada first?"

"No, considering I talked about Mama all the time around her." His knuckle strokes under your chin. "Still do."

You hum thoughtfully, welcoming the pleasant memories that replay behind your closed eyelids. "Our girl is all grown up now. What are we going to do?"

Harry tilts your head to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear. "You and I will be okay. It'll take time, but we'll eventually sink into this new normal."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Our love is steadfast, and nothing will ever change that." He hugs you in an all-consuming way—it's intimate and infuses you with safety, warmth, and a hopeful spark that everything will patch together the way it's supposed to.

——

When the preschool comes into view, you get slammed with immediate sadness.

You toured it with Harry months ago, ensuring it was where you wanted your daughter to be during the weekdays. The curriculum focuses on outdoor learning and is nestled in a safe neighborhood only ten minutes from the beach house. The teachers, classrooms, and overall energy of the place made you less anxious, but now it's back with a vengeance, eating away at your calm facade.

Kids linger outside the building, the sun shining on the blacktop that's scribbled with chalk drawings. A few participate in supervised hopscotch, while others twist their bodies nervously. A gated playground area is off to the left, with colorful swings, slides, and seesaws. To the right is a woodsy area with a large sandbox and flower beds. The stone pathway is decorated with little handprints that must have been dipped in paint. It's darling.

In the rearview mirror, you watch your daughter kick her legs in excitement and hug her tiny ladybug backpack, all ready to go. She woke up happy as a clam and impatiently scarfed down the big breakfast Harry had made her. After that, Harry did her hair while sitting on the front porch, the March winds and briny air bringing the spring season with them. Pictures were taken, hearts were broken a bit more, and then you all were off to part ways.

Harry to the restaurant; you to your part-time job. No babies to look after, just an empty house waiting to be filled with love again.

Your youngest daughter, who's ten months old now, sleeps peacefully in the car seat. She's getting bigger every day, and it's a double whammy to see both your children becoming more cognizant. You want to curse time for being such a thief.

She'll be dropped off at the nearby daycare center next, which will further twist the knife. It's possible for separation anxiety to occur, and while you can handle it, your baby girl's reaction will be a mystery. You sincerely hope the transition from home to somewhere unfamiliar will be smooth sailing.

Harry parks the car and looks over at you unwaveringly. "It's now or never," he whispers.

You draw in a deep breath, then exhale slowly. "Let's go."

Stepping out of the car, you open the back door and let your daughter hop out. You'd walk her to the door, but you want to stay near your youngest.

As she bounces with anticipation, you open her backpack and double-check that she has everything—her lunch box, a change of clothes, sunscreen, and the comfort blanket she's had since she was born. You zip it back up and then unhurriedly help her arms into the straps, trying to stall what happens next.

Harry, never the one to procrastinate, kicks things into gear by crouching and cradling her head. "You have the best day, all right? Be kind, make friends, and have fun. I'll be picking you up later."

"Can we eat ice cream after?" she asks, clasping her hands and standing on her tiptoes. "And play on the beach?"

He kisses her forehead. "We can do whatever you want, lovebug."

You can envision it now. Harry will bring the girls home, exhausted from work. He'll make dinner and wait for you, then you'll all sit at the kitchen table and attentively listen to her talk about her day in great detail. Then, as the sun sets, he'll entertain her by the shore until he insists on bedtime. Come tomorrow, he'll do it again with the same steadfast devotion because that's what good fathers do.

"We love you so much," you say, petting her braided hair.

"Love you," she replies distractedly, eagerly glancing at the front door. "I gotta go now, Mommy. Bye, Daddy."

She turns, ready to break free, but Harry stops her and says, "Not so fast, little lady. Give us some love to get through the day."

She shyly hugs him. She's growing out of her clingy tendencies and becoming more independent, and you can tell by Harry's sad smile that he recognizes it too. She briefly hugs your leg before running to the front door, where teachers are waiting with enthusiastic expressions and name tag stickers.

Harry slowly stands, never taking his eyes off her. He's more adjusted to not seeing her as much during the week than you, but you know the sentiment of her starting school still weighs heavy on his heart. After watching her disappear, he slings his arm around your shoulders and guides you to the car.

Inside is where you fall apart. The first cry that escapes has Harry blowing out an unsteady breath and embracing you. Against your neck, he sniffles, letting his piled-up emotions finally fall to pieces. He's not much of a crier, but when he does, it's a raw sight to see.

"Reservation for a cry session? Table for two?" he says humorously, rubbing your back and lightly scratching it.

"We're so lame," you whisper, gripping his sweater like a vice.

"God, I know. I even packed tissues." Harry takes an on-the-go pack out of his pocket, plucks two tissues out, and wipes both his and your tears with them.

"Eventually, we're going to have to do this again," you say. From the passenger seat, you peek at your baby girl and shoo away the thought—you still have more than enough time with her before she starts school.

Harry kisses your cheek. "One day at a time, honey."

Undoubtedly, this routine will get easier. It will become second nature, and you'll discover the exquisite simplicity of watching your children grow before leaving the nest and soaring through the sky.

They came into this world like a soft spring breeze, carrying seeds and dispersing them into your life. The roots emerged from under your home and flourished into a bountiful garden. Each day, there are new blossoms to admire and appreciate. And each day, you aim to help them thrive with support from Harry's sunshine.

Try as they might, the winds of change won't cause harm. Your family's roots are firm in the ground.

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #dad harry #dad!harry #dadrry #adore-laur #harry styles

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lost-in-lamentation · 3 months

Text

hold onto me.

a/n: it's 4am this is not beta read i just had some demon (haha) take over me

content: the brothers return after a hard fight, and one of them returns not unscathed.

lucifer × gen!reader (you/your).

WARNINGS: lucifer is hurt, and was bitten by a venomous creature. descriptions of bite wound. he does get sick and throws up. there is blood in this fic. please DO NOT READ if you are uncomfortable with any of these topics.

hurt/comfort. 2.1k words.

you pace frantically in the foyer of the house of lamentation, as you have been for the last half hour. when diavolo summoned the brothers to the castle, you didn't expect them to be dispatched out to rid the devildom of a horde of chimaeras. realistically, you have no reason to be so worried. what could a group of monsters do against the most powerful demons in the devildom? and yet, your hands tremble at your sides, teeth gritting in anxiety as you cross over the edge of the carpet once more. the quiet thudding of your feet against the floor fills the space, until you finally hear a click and the heavy door leading outside swings open. at the sound of light chatter, your legs nearly give in with relief, a smile revealing itself on your face as the brothers pile in one by one.

"you're back!" they all turn their heads to you in unison, grins and looks of victory filling your vision as each one shuffles inside.

"MC! you should have seen it, i would have never imagined we'd work so well together!" asmo is the first to jump on you, fully occupying your front when another pair of arms drapes over you from behind.

a quiet scoff reaches your ears. "it wouldn't have worked without barbatos telling us what to do though." you hear belphie muttering quietly as he lazily slumps over you.

"i'm sure you would have figured it out eventually without him there." you return the embrace that lust has you in before gently ushering him away. halfway through peeling belphie off your back, beel finishes the rest of the task, patting your head as he pulls his sleepy twin away. "thanks beel, welcome home," you say as you reach up to ruffle his hair. as quickly as it had opened, the front door shuts with another click. brothers two through four all throw you either a nod (two and four), or a timid wave (three) as they enter further into the house, discussing a topic you can't catch. "there's dinner in the dining hall for you guys." at the mention of food, beel is sprinting at mammon speed down the hallway, belphie thrown over his shoulder and the rest of his brothers in tow. and behind the chaos, stands lucifer, arms crossed and eyes dull as he watches his brothers scramble about. "you should eat too. it must have been a hard fight."

lucifer's gaze follows you as you approach him, arms unfolding when he sees you reaching for his coat. with practised ease, he reaches across his chest to grab the corner of the fabric, pulling his arm up and over his head to give you access to the piece of clothing. "i have to finish a report for diavolo first. go and eat with my brothers ahead of me."

"really lucifer, you just got back. would it kill you to take a break?" you pout at the demon, but the expression slips when you notice lucifer moving his hand to press into his side. "hey, are you-"

"yes, it would. now go and eat. i assume you've done nothing but fuss while we were out." the accusation leaves you dumbstruck, but you can't deny that he is right. no other words leave your mouth as you watch him slowly make his way up the stairs, just able to catch a glimpse of the way he leans his weight on the wall to hold himself up.

"such is the avatar of pride," you mutter to yourself, folding lucifer's coat up and before turning heel and heading to the dining room. just as you come up to the doorway, a head pops through, blue hair and orange eyes entering your sight. "levi? what's going on?"

he puts a finger to lips as he shushes you, gaze shifting from side to side before stepping out to join you in the hallway. "did you talk to lucifer?"

you let out a little gasp, hoping that levi has any sort of information. "yeah, he's just gone back to his room. is he okay?"

"d-don't tell him i told you, alright? i don't think anyone saw it happen but me." one more time, levi throws a glance over his shoulder, making sure no curious ears are close by. "he got bitten. by one of the chimaera's snake head... tail things. he was dealing with more than one, so i don't think he saw it coming." levi's voice shakes ever so slightly, worry for his older brother seeping through the tones of his words. "MC, please- check on him. satan mentioned that chimaera snake bites can be venomous, and even if lucifer can take it, i don't think he'll be having a good time."

your heart drops into your stomach, fear eating away at the corners of your mind. "levi, if the others ask where we are, tell them lucifer told me to help finish up his paperwork, okay?" as soon as he nods, you turn away from him and start running towards the staircase, fingers wrapped tightly around lucifer's coat. your breaths are shallow as you sprint up the steps, nearly falling forward when your toe catches on the edge of the last of the stairs. with more agility than you think you have, you catch yourself quickly, standing up to straighten yourself out before quietly padding over to stop in front of lucifer's door. uncharacteristically, the door remains open, a slight crack allowing you to peer inside. you consider waiting outside until he seemed ready to let you in, but when you see lucifer white knuckled and doubled over the edge of his bed, your courtesy flies out the the window. "lucifer!?" you at least make sure the door is shut behind you before you rush over, placing his coat at the foot of his bed as you kneel down next to his shivering body. "hey, look up at me." you cradle his face in your hands, turning it to you to get a better look. at the touch, his hands find your wrists, nearly death gripping them as he struggles against the venom in his system. lucifer's eyes are squeezed shut, and now that you're close to him, you hear the way his chest fights for air. "oh, gods, lucifer, what do i do?" your breath catches at the back of your throat, tears threatening to slip down your face while pride himself struggles to gain his bearings. for a second, you see the red of lucifer's irises, and release a quiet sob of relief.

the demon can barely hold his head up, and his hands loosen their grip from your wrists. with much effort, he points a hand to his nightstand, words slurring as he tries to speak. "in there-" his sentence is interrupted by a violent convulsion, and you can only watch in fear as he spasms in your hold. lucifer is gasping for air at the end of it, eyes misty. "the nightstand. medicine," he heaves out, hands dropping to his side and body falling forward towards you.

a series of concerned noises leave your mouth as he collapses on top of you. it takes you a second to react, but when you do, you're guiding his body to lean against his bedframe instead of you. the moment you're free, you scramble towards the nightstand, pulling the drawers open and coming face to face with a grim sight. inside, lucifer has piles of medicinal supplies. the nightstand is stocked to the brim with gauze, painkillers, and bottles labeled in devildom language you haven't gotten around to learning yet. "this is ridiculous..." you curse under your breath, pulling out random containers and placing them down on the floor as you dig around for anything that says ‘medicine’ on it.

“it’s the bright… bright blue one,” lucifer groans as he shifts around behind you.

“bright blue, bright blue…” you chant it like a mantra to yourself as you continue scouring through the bottles. only when you find it does some of the tension in your shoulders release. “i got it!” you pivot in place, ready to pour the entire bottle down lucifer’s throat if necessary, but to your surprise, lucifer is leaning with his back against the bed, weakly tugging away at his multiple layers of clothing. “what are you doing?!”

between little gasps of pain, lucifer slowly gets a whole sentence out. “it’s not a medicine… that you drink... you pour it on the wound-” a wince cuts him off, but you’re quick to understand. immediately, you’re undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, doing your best to be gentle, but still trying to work fast. within seconds, his waistcoat is torn away, and it only takes you a few more before you pull his base layer of clothing off.

the sight of the wound makes you pale-faced. the marks of the snake bite are glaringly obvious, with a sickly, ashen colour stemming away from the puncture points and crawling up from lucifer’s side to his chest. it leaves an horrifying pattern on his skin, and this time, you can’t stop the tears from falling. your hands quiver just as much as his do, and your tears fall harder still as you dump the blue concoction on his wound. lucifer nearly cries out when the liquid splashes on his torso, but he grits his teeth and holds steady, his pride still stronger than his pain. “does… does it work?” you sit back on your heels, waiting in anxious fear as you watch the medicine seep into his skin.

lucifer gives you a barely noticeable nod, a weak smile briefly crossing his face. “yes, just… don’t panic here, okay?”

a confused hum echoes from your throat. all of a sudden, lucifer begins another bout of coughing, and you realise why he told you not to panic. yet however much you trust him, it doesn’t change how terrified you are. this time, lucifer keels over forward, and before you have a chance to get him to sit up again, he spits out an unwelcoming amount of blood. you almost scream at the sight of the blood mixed in with the venom, turning it grey and thick as he continues to choke it out.

you don’t know how long it takes him to get the venom out, but once lucifer finally sits up again, there’s no more discolouration along his body. you breathe a final sigh of relief, reaching out to grasp his shoulders and pull him towards you. weakened by the events, lucifer allows you to bring him close, his chest beginning to rise and fall at a normal pace for the first time since you found him. lucifer’s head nestles at the base of your neck, his relief not going unnoticed as he rubs his cheek against your shoulder. “you’re okay now, right? you won’t die?” it feels like thorns digging into your throat as the words leave your mouth. after all, you wouldn’t know what to do if you had messed up.

and yet, lucifer laughs. albeit, weakly, but the low rumble of his chest tells you all you need to know. “i won’t die,” he murmurs. electricity runs through your nerves when you feel lucifer’s lips brush against the side of your neck.

“... okay.” a blush blankets your face all the way down to your chest, but lucifer is too exhausted to notice. you shift his weight over to one arm, reaching out to his bed to grab the fleece that sits atop his comforter. carefully, you toss the blanket around his shoulders, covering his exposed body. your attention then shifts to the mess that lay beside you and lucifer. you steel yourself, ready to try and move lucifer up to his bed, but when you feel his hand tugging weakly at your elbow, you cease your movements. “i thought you were asleep already. what’s wrong?”

red eyes open to find yours. “just stay with me,” he says through a whisper.

“lucifer, i should clean up first-”

“please, don’t let me go.” lucifer's pride is not stronger than his desire for you.

your resolve shatters, feeling him press himself even closer to you. “okay. i won’t.” you shift your position, encasing lucifer in your hold as his weight falls onto you and his breathing begins to event out. tenderly, you rub circles into his back, feeling how his heart begins to thump a steady rhythm against your own chest. and with lucifer now recovering, your own eyes flutter shut. “i’ve got you lucifer,” you say softly.

and as you both drift off to sleep, you wonder if you really did hear lucifer reply, “i love you.”

a/n: lucifer kindly leave my thoughts pls and ty this is supposed to be a safe space for satan

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x you #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me luci x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me fanfic #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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oddshroom · 10 months

Note

Sukuna with “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating” prompt?

「𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝」

PROMPT: “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating”

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

It felt like hours since you had been running, especially inside the head of Sukuna.

Your lungs ached with every breath and your legs were sore from the sprint. You felt the need for a break, so you slowed down and took in some deep breaths to calm down.

When your eyes adjusted to the ground, well water in the color of blood. It had only urged you to continue running. Everything seemed endless. One moment you had rested your head on Yuji’s shoulder, listening to Nobara complain about not enough channels being on the Tv as Megumi tried not to grow agitated with her complaints. Yuji continued eating his food while watching the Tv, while you fell asleep. However you hadn’t expected to open your eyes only to feel a flow of water around you with skulls of creatures that you were didn’t exist today. In fact, it was so bizarre that you weren’t sure if it was real or just your mind playing tricks on you.

You had looked forward, watching as the skulls now turn into a large pile with a throne like structure at the top. There he was, all four ruby eyes directly staring at you. He slightly seemed amused, yet you blamed it on the angle from where you were looking.

Confusion turned to fear as soon as his red irises started glowing brighter than normal. He opened his mouth and spoke with a deep voice. “At first I didn’t think I could bring anyone else here, considering that the brat could prevent it”

You swallowed your saliva, trying to avoid his dark gaze. An unamused smile formed on his face, and you could hear his chuckle. “Eyes up here, you think you can ignore me?”, angering him was the last thing you needed to do. You nodded quickly, hoping to keep yourself from pissing him off even more. Tilting your head upwards, he wasn’t there anymore.

“I am the king of curses”, he said. His words echoed through your head until you heard his laugh once again. “These sorcerers think they are safe, all since I am contained however some other sorcerers still hold fear of my abilities.” The voice had come from behind, quickly getting yourself up from the watery ground before turning around.

There he stood, looking as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes were all narrowed and glaring at you. You shivered, feeling coldness settle into your bones. “Your abilities are quite powerful, yet just like that shikigami user you hold back.” Megumi, you remember when he had ended up battling Megumi before going after you. Wincing at the memory of how he had thrown you against trees and knocking Megumi into you. The injuries that the both of you had sustained took almost two weeks to heal.

He stepped closer towards you, making you take a step back. Your heart beat loudly in your ears. “They think this is some kind of game,” he mumbled, his expression contorted in annoyance. He grabbed you by your jaw looking at you intrigued, “However compared to that shikigami user, you held back the most with your cursed techniques”. Being afraid was an understatement, you were scared shitless in this position. This was nothing like what you experienced. It was scary, but the fact that this man could torture you for hours over nothing, and then kill you without hesitation made you nauseous. You knew you couldn't do anything else. If you did, he might kill you.

He let out a sigh, letting go of your chin. “You are interesting... “, he said, as he took a step back as he eyed you up and down. “Hm, let’s make a deal”, there it was. You remember Yuji saying that he had made a pact with Sukuna however was unsure of what it had been.

That’s what brings you to your current predicament, you didn’t think you had the guts to move or even run from the king of curses but here you are. It was worth the laugh for Sukuna, you really believe you could out run him of all people and that being inside his mind. But it wouldn’t be smart to fight him alone, not that you could fight him with someone else right now, and besides that, he would just kill you either way. You had to think of something quick.

Maybe you could just…

The sound of footsteps drew attention away from your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You watched as he walked towards you grinning, he was already caught up. Your eyes widened, there really was no escape from this. “What do you want”, you stammered out. Scoffing, “Well if you hadn’t ran away, I would have told you what I wanted”. As soon as those words left his lips, he had you by the throat. His black colored nails protruding against your skin, he watched you frantically try to rip his arm away only for him to squeeze your throat slightly forcing you to stop.

“If you don’t listen to me carefully, I will cut your tongue off. And I mean, it is very easy to do such a thing.” You didn’t answer, not trusting your own voice. His fingers tightened around your neck, causing you to gasp for air. “Don’t make me repeat myself”, his grip loosened a bit. You inhaled deeply, feeling your heartbeat slowly return to normal. After a moment, he released you from his grasp. He didn’t walk away just yet, however. A small smirk appeared on his face as he observed your reaction.

You coughed, trying to clear your throat. When you regained your breathe, he spoke again, “You fascinate me, you’re strong, yet you don’t put it to full use”, his expression showed that he was disgusted, for not putting your abilities to full use? “That doesn’t explain why am here”, you spoke up sweating as the words fell out. “You must have something to gain from this, otherwise why would I be here”, you finished with a nervous chuckle. His hand moved closer to your throat again, you flinched. It’s not like your life depended on your survival anymore. This time his hand rubbed against the imprint left by his nails.

“I want you to visit me, not that you have a choice”, letting out a chuckle before taking in your shocked expression. “Why?!”, it sounded more as of a statement than a question. “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating”, his red eyes stared straight into yours, making you feel vulnerable and exposed. “Perhaps it's because you remind me of someone I lost a long time ago”, there had been no thought behind his eyes. His thumb grazed your throat lightly, the touch sending shivers down your spine. His arm slowly falling down to your waist before pulling you in, bringing your body to flush against his own.

“Everything will fall into place”

Just like that you tapped out.

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

Text

Rookie Mistake

Summary: Alternative title, How You Got Your Call Sign

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, minor character death

Pairing(s): Task Force 141 x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Note: No use of (Y/N). Only description of the reader is that she’s short

a/n: hey there! first and foremost, big thanks to @einno-arko for editing it! please check out her page! it has been a long time since i’ve written a fanfic so do forgive me for how rough this is. it is also 3 in the morning as im typing, woops. also, would love to hear feedback so i can make improvements in future works. thank y’all!

Being short has its advantages at times. For your job as a sniper, you could be placed anywhere without being seen. During your basic and special forces training, where most people are at least a head taller than you, you were taught techniques for someone only your size can pull off.

The man in front of you is probably the tallest person you’ve seen on the field. At least two feet taller than you and all muscle. ‘Tank’, his teammates call him. Truly matches the description. You try not to think about how one of his hands can wrap around your neck and squeeze the life out of you.

Instead, you pull out your knife and charge towards him. He runs towards you, arms up and ready to take a swing. Expecting a punch, you lean your upper body forward, keeping your head low. On your last step, you push upwards with your foot. Tank misses you, his stance uneven and his legs still wide open.

For a millisecond, you thought about slicing the area between his thighs, making things easier for you in the long run. Instead, you stick with the training that’s been engraved into your head. Diving in the open space between his legs, you run your knife through his inner thigh, hoping it’s deep enough to at least damage the femoral artery.

Tank lets out a scream and staggers forward as you slide down on the floor. With his back to you, you push your body up and sprint towards him. The ideal situation is for you to get to him and pull his head back enough to slice his throat. But life isn’t always ideal.

To your shock, he quickly gets up onto his feet and turns around, facing you. As if his strength doubled, he knocks the knife out of your hand and, for a split second, your eyes follow the knife as it flies across the room. That was all Tank needed, grabbing both of your arms and lifting you up. Yeah, you should have just sliced his dick.

It was at this time that the rest of the team entered the room. The sight was almost comical; you being held up, legs dangling like a rag doll. Tank casts a quick glance from the corner of his eye. All four men with their rifles up, pointing towards the two of you, but it was the one with a skull mask that made his body break out into a cold sweat. Four against one are really bad odds, especially with an injured leg.

Tank still has you held out, practically using you as a human shield for the upper half of his body. But with your insistent wiggling and attempts at kicking him, it becomes more difficult for him to keep a grip on you.

He knows that he probably won’t leave this room alive, and he’d rather die than to surrender. Tank goes through his options, looking at the small soldier in his hands. ‘Should have grabbed them by the neck.’ As soon as he makes a move, the men in front of him will too.

“Just drop them mate!” A heavy Scottish accent is heard throughout the room.

Tank stays silent, eyes darting around the room, trying to find the means of escape. His train of thought became illogical. As he looks around his environment, he tries to avoid meeting the eyes of the man with the skull mask. ‘Ghost’ is his name. His dark eyes never leave Tank’s.

If he’s going to Hell, he won’t be going alone. Spotting the window to his right, his body moved before his brain could process what was happening. Tank twists his upper body and, with the last of his strength, he hurls you through the glass

During your time with the team, which was about six months when you first joined, you’ve kept quiet. Never raising your voice and only talking when you’re addressed. So, when they hear you yelp and let out a high-pitched scream as they watch your body crash through the window, they would have laughed if the circumstances were different.

As soon as your body stopped shielding him, Ghost took the shot. He watched as the large man slammed down to his knees, blood running down his face from the bullet hole on his head, before finally falling forward.

Getting thrown out the window sounds fun, besides landing on the glass and the very high chance of death. Any other person would have a couple of broken bones, but it seems like you had lady luck on your side today. For one, the warehouse is only one story high, and you’re all padded up. Without your gear and helmet, there would have been more puncture points from the shards. But the impact from hitting the ground doesn’t leave you unscathed. Something is probably broken, sprained, if not bruised. You don’t feel it now but it’s going to suck ass later. Laying on your side, you look around, trying to not move your body in the process. There are probably hundreds, maybe even thousands, of glass shards surrounding you.

“ROOKIE!” Soap comes running towards you.

You open your mouth, wanting to tell him to be careful but Ghost’s rough voice cuts you off. “Dammnit Johnny, watch out for the fuckin’ glass!”

Soap slows his movements, making calculated hops to avoid the sharp shards. “Heya lassie, how ya feeling?”

Not having the energy for a filter, you responded. “Felt like I got thrown out a window. Fuckin’ hell, Soap, what do you think?!”

Seeing his eyes widen, you immediately regret the words that came out of your mouth. “Holy shit, Soap. I am so sorry.”

He lets out a hearty laugh as he stops before you. He gives you a look over, trying to find any visibly large shards of glass embedded in your body. Seeing as there isn’t any visible, Soap sticks his hand out. Surprised to find how badly your arm is shaking, he gently grabs your forearm and pulls you up.

“You really are Ghost’s mini-me,” he chuckles.

“Huh?”

“Already picking up his humor and stealing his catchphrase.”

“Oh!” You look down, thanking your balaclava for hiding your flushed face.

With his arm under yours, you lean on him, slowly limping your way towards the rest of the team. Price took another look at you, spotting at least a dozen little glass shards that punctured your jacket and pants. “Best to have the med team take them out of you. The heli will be here in five.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into your head. You realize that during your next training sessions, he’s going to roast the ever living fuck out of you about what happened today. Dread begins to sink in.

—

With your left arm bare and the interior of the heli cold, you try to minimize your shivering so that the medic can properly do their job. You guessed that the guys would at least wait until you get back to base before they made jokes, but you were very wrong.

“Rookie, you literally got yeeted out the window.” Gaz was the first to break the silence.

“Yes, Gaz, I know.”

“We should have a contest to see how far each of us can throw her.” Soap barked out, joining in on the teasing.

“I would prefer not, Soap.”

And it went on for a little while longer, and you, again, were thankful for having your balaclava on so they wouldn’t see that you’re dying on the inside.

“Probably gonna stop calling you Rookie now.” Much to everyone’s surprise, they turn to Ghost.

You tilt your head, confused, before he continues. He stares at you, the heli quiet besides the hum of the wings. A beat later he speaks up again, “I think I’ll call you Crash.”

You follow with an immediate, “Oh hell no.”

At this point, Soap and Gaz are giggling like schoolgirls. Price turns away, lips pulled tight but his shoulders shaking up and down in muffled laughter. Ghost’s eyes narrow, but you can tell he has a smug grin under his mask.

“Crash it is then!”

“Don’t encourage him, Soap!”

“Sorry lassie, it’s law now, we outrank you.” He smiles at you.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you let out a quiet chuckle. Lifting your head up from your hand, you quietly say, “Fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this”

You watch Soap nod and Gaz give you a thumbs up before you pull down your balaclava, giving them a smile.

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader

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kitorin · 9 days

Text

LOVE ALL PLAY. - ITOSHI RIN

FOUR - SARDINES AND DEBT SARDINES.

contents. unproofread , reader is unhinged ( some dark humour , but i've said much worse tbh ) , written at the time of the 2024 thomas cup so there's stuff about that , sexual humour once again but really subtle

The chime of the bell finally announces break, your sign to finally sit up and to stop napping. With a groan or two accompanied by a groggy yawn, you stretch and you swear something in your back cracks. Multiple times.

“Shut up already, will you?”

Rin grumbles, and even from your peripheral vision you can notice him scowling while shoving everything in his pencil case with an odd fury.

Another yawn claws itself out of your throat, your insolence amplifies it, the exaggeration earns an annoyed but entertaining glare from Rin, and a cheeky grin from you. He doesn’t say anything, his chair yelling as it’s dragged along the floor when he leaves.

“Where are you going?” You intercept his path, pushing your chair backwards too.

Rin walks sideways, slipping between the back of the classroom and your chair. “Bathroom.”

“Can I come?” His features scrunch up in disgust, an amused sneer pounces on your lips as he stalks away with a firm ‘no’.

“Bye bye~” To which, Rin points up the middle finger towards you without so much of a glance, and soon he disappears out the classroom door along with other students.

You gaze remains on him until he’s completely out of view, then it’s rediverted to the bag resting under Rin's table.

With ease, the zip exposes its contents, you scoff to yourself while making use of this opportunity.

His money that he (tried) to pay back makes its return to his possessions, into a random pocket which held nothing but tissues and a box of mints. There goes his two thousand yen.

What part of ‘it’s my treat’ did he not get? You’ll acknowledge his timing and how he managed to slip the money into your bag without you noticing; maybe even applaud him, but if you say you’re paying, then you’re paying.

“Um.” Isagi approaches you, greeting you with the slight tug of your sleeve. “l/n, what are you doing to Rin’s bag.”

The worry on his face tells you that you’ve behaved too suspiciously (a fair reaction, you just snooped into another’s bag). “Givin’ Rin his money back.” Hands go up in the air, opened. “Don’t worry, I’m not stealing shit from anyone.”

To this, Isagi sighs with relief, his features relax into a polite smile. “Sorry for suspecting you.” You wave it away, leaning on your desk. “Speaking about money, I need to pay you back too.”

His hand digs around his pocket, but you interfere, placing yours on his wrist. “No you don’t.”

“But—”

“Shhhh.” A finger goes on his lip. “Pay me back with your time, I’ll be spending the money.” The wink was the cherry on top, and you swear Isagi goes pink.

“I knew you said you were acquainted with y/n, but not in that way.” Anri observes from behind Isagi, who yelps and immediately waves his hands.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” You swallow a giggle, almost trembling from amusement. Anri still gazes at him with doubt, but nods anyways.

“I just came up here to ask you about how soccer’s been going. Coach wanted me to ask you about anything you wanted to improve on.”

Aaaand that’s your queue to leave. “I’ll see you later ‘ichi! I’ll leave you guys to it.” You skip out of the room, leaving a flustered Yoichi explaining the situation to a confused Anri.

Rushing past people and down the stairs (and barely dodging Yukimiya, who was carrying a large stack of books precariously), you make your way to class B, where Hiori resided. He’s your victim for today.

You peek through the open sliding door, and immediately met with a disgusted look from him.

“Do you sprint here or something?” He opens his lunchbox. “Don’t you have other friends to bother?”

A chair groans loudly as you drag it across the floor. “You’re my favourite.”

Hiori deadpans. “Great. What an honour.”

“Have you been watching highlights?” You unwrap your own lunchbox, noticing how Hiori had rested his phone against his pencil case.

"Yeah." Hiori turns his phone and its temporary stand towards you.

"You should've stayed up to watch it with me." Watching games live with Hiori was always a blast, screaming at the TV together through a phone call and placing bets (which consisted of free passes to yell at each other). But with Hiori insisting that he has to sleep more, you refrained from talking about the results. "I mean, you'd make it to school even if you slept in."

He unplugs his headphones, stuffing them into the pocket of his trousers. "I was exhausted. I would've passed out midway as well."

"I didn't even tell you about that—"

"You didn't have to. You sounded like you were going to drop dead during Malaysia and Japan's match last night."

"My bed was comfortable."

Hiori sighs as he gets out his chopsticks out. "Sure buddy." He frowns. "Maybe I should stay up next time. First result on youtube spoiled the result for me."

"Seeee?" China had emerged victorious, 3-1, a shame since the two of you were cheering on for Malaysia, after they defeated Japan the previous night.

"Was each game at least close?"

"Not really. In the singles games Lee Zii Jia seemed to struggle, and Leong was close in the first set." It was a shame, especially when Lee had been playing so well the night before, and was close to winning the first set. You also swore you noticed a point of his not being counted, but with Shi Yuqi's significant advantage, realistically, it wouldn't've made much of a difference. "I passed out for Goh and Izzuddin though."

Hiori shoots you a glare, one that screams I told you so.

"Shi Yuqi plays so well...even if Lee Zii Jia was in his best form I doubt it would've been easy." Hiori keenly watches his phone. "Makes sense because he's second in the world but wow."

You nod. "I should watch more of his games."

Watching full matches had never occurred to you, you viewed highlights and compilations of the sport's best shots, but watching the full game seemed like a hassle. You followed Coach's recommendation, and enjoyed it much more than expected.

The two of you watch in silence, while eating, as Shi Yuqi's score rose rapidly. "Shame they didn't add the part with his abs." Hiori chokes on his rice, coughing and gulping down tea from his water bottle.

"They're very nice abs." You add on, as if clarification was really necessary.

Hiori finally swallows, hand on his throat just to be sure. "We were told to watch professionals to learn. I don't think you're learning."

"I'm learning of this man's beauty. Besides there's no harm in appreciating how hot these people are as well."

"You only use 'as well' when you do both things."

"I did."

He doesn't seem to mind when you pull out your phone and vigorously type. "Name at least one takeaway then."

"Aim at the opponent's dominant side's hip."

The video gets paused. "You already do that."

"Not as well as the pros do." Your thumb eagerly taps the right constantly, in search of the point you were searching for. "I hit in the right side, but at the body or between the arm and hip is better."

"At least you learnt something." He mumbles.

You turn off your phone, placing it under your bottom lip and letting it rest there. "There was also how easy it is for someone to break."

Curiosity blooms across his features. "What do you mean?"

"When we played Malaysia, Nishimoto was in first singles against Lee Zii Jia."

"Right."

"And he didn't do that well. At first I thought it was just a significant difference in skill. But he's only one rank below him, and I saw a reel the other day and he only lost a set by two points and won the next one."

Hiori nods, letting you continue.

"He must've been flustered. And the next game Lee Zii Jia played the same thing happened to him. I guess Shi Yuqi was a lot higher ranked but y'know. There were a lot of shots I swear he could've returned. And in previous games even when he lost he was still close."

"I guess the same thing happened. Being nervous and losing confidence during a match. It's the sort of thing you'd only get through experience too. Or having a therapist that specialises in sports psychology." He absentmindedly plays with his rice, gathering the final bits into one bite. "There was a lot of pressure too, quarter and semi finals. Not to mention it's their career."

You nod, staring at the wooden floor.

"Why? Are you worried the same will happen to you?"

"I wanna do that to our opponents at national qualifications."

Hiori shoots you a disgusted look. "Oh my god you don't know how weird that sounds."

"What? The Stasi did that to political opposition and it worked—"

"Don't compare the fucking GDR secret police's psychological torture to a sport."

"Fine, fine—but my point still stands. If we can pull that off then it'll make stuff easier."

"We can talk to Coach about it. Also, did she tell you about the playing order?"

She hadn't. "Nope, what happened?"

Hiori sighs, as if it's difficult news. "We can't do doubles together."

"What do you mean??"

It comes out much louder than intended, as you stand up hurriedly and everyone turns towards the yell of your chair, almost capsizing. You mumble out a 'my bad' and an awkward slight bow.

"She wants to swap me and Nanase for first singles. Since he needs to focus on studying for college, and she reckons I can do well in singles as well." He counts off each member. "You're in first singles, Kurona's good at predicting stuff and setting up attacks, but he's struggling with offense. Kiyora's already doing third singles and only because he's the best option available. Nanase's done fine, he just wants to focus on getting into college so he asked to swap with someone."

Hiori also playing in singles simply means it's against the rules for the two of you to do doubles together.

"I see." It's been a dream for you to compete properly alongside Hiori, but there's nothing you can do about it, and you have plenty of opportunity as a first year. "It's fine, we have the next two years left."

"Yeah, we'll play together eventually. Plus, I'm looking forward to singles too. It's a win either way, Nanase can play and study and I get to learn more."

"Mhm, we're doing everyone else an honour."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're the strongest. We should at least give others a chance before we go dominate the country."

Hiori blinks. "I can't believe you."

"C'mon, you know I'm right." You tease and prod, but deep down believe in. As long as Hiori's by your side, you feel as though nothing appears to be a challenge. "We'll give them a chance this year."

"I can't with you." But Hiori grins. "We'll win either way."

You nod, high fiving him in agreement. "Also, this is the highlight I was talking about." You had finally found the moment you were talking about, before discussing strategy; pointing the phone at him.

"Fine. He does look good though. Really good." You raise an eyebrow at Hiori staring for a bit too long, to which he shoos you away and mutters something about you influencing him negatively.

Why did I have to be separated from Hiori...?

You stare at the front without a thought, disappointed and still hungry (It's not your fault your mouth had better things to do), and dreading history. Your head goes back to rest on your arms, preparing for another long, nice nap before training.

"I thought you were a good student."

Rin comments, seating at his usual spot next you, a bit of sweat framing his face with his hair.

"I'm smart. There's a difference."

"A smart person would be listening."

"A smart person doesn't need to listen to a teacher waffle on about dead people and whatnot."

"There's more to history than dead people—" He's silenced by a familiar scold from the front.

"Itoshi, how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?" You swallow down laughter, but don't bother concealing the proud grin on your face. "And y/n, you haven't even opened your book." Now it's Rin's turn to smirk.

"Sorry sir." Confident but not arrogant, you apologise, earning a mumble but sir returns to his lesson anyways. You'll do the bare minimum of pretending to take notes, you open up your textbook, then your pencil case. A two thousand yen note falls out.

You know exactly where this is from.

"Idiot."

"Fucking bastard." You mumble back.

You'd wrestle your way to his bag and shove it right back into his wallet, where it belongs, but with your teacher already sick of your shit you resort to something else.

With an annoyingly loud (but not too loud) rip, a page comes out of your notebook.

Take your fucking money you idiot.

its yours i owe you

I never said you needed to pay me back, did I?

and i never said i cared about that

I'm going to punch you.

sure have fun in detention and never competing

To be honest, he had you there.

You're a debt sardine.

Rin stares at your with disgust, as he continues to scrawl and pass the sheet to you. Quite aggressively, too.

what the fuck is that

Like a debt shark But reversed Since you keep thinking you're in debt And sharks are pretty fucking cool so you're not a reverse debt shark

Sardine isn't the right fish. At least those are yummy. If Rin were a fish he'd be dry, obnoxiously salty and bad for your skin (eating him would make you break out).

you sound like a kindergartener

And you sound like a debt sardine.

Rin's left fist tightens, lividly.

then your just a sardine no debt a miserable sardine

Of course he would. Of course Itoshi Rin would make such fatal mistake.

*you're just a sardine

He slams his fist against the table, and sir does the same with chalk against blackboard.

"Why are you like this?"

Hiori punctuates his words with light pants, whereas you don't find the breath to, thanking god for the final lap reaching it's conclusion.

"Not my fault he keeps trying to pay me." He gives you a moment to pant a bit. "I'm going to shove this right up his ass if he doesn't stop." As annoying as it is, bill remains in your pocket, you grip it from outside with frustration.

"You sound happy." Kurona murmurs. "I've never seen someone so insistent to not be paid back."

You grab him by the shoulders and gently shake him. "I told him it was my treat. It's not a treat if he pays me back."

Kurona agrees with a hum and a nod. "I guess that's irritating. At least you have good reason. Reason."

Kiyora peers over Kurona, doing a cross arm stretch with his racket in one hand. "It's a free two thousand yen. If you don't want it I'll have it." He eyes your pocket, and you instinctively turn your right thigh away.

"If I do anything other than return it then he wins—"

"Two thousand yen is two thousand yen."

"He called me a sardine—"

Kiyora doesn't counter, he's too busy stifling a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah—"

"Whitebait suits you more. Sardines are too big for you."

He's lucky you don't have your racket, nor a shuttlecock. "Come here you little shit, you're only five centimetres taller." You lunge forward for a (gentle) kick but he dodges, delivering a flick to your forehead.

"Five centimetres is five centimetres. That's massive, no?"

Kiyora's fast, probably the fastest in the club. You counter it by pouncing on him. "Not even average."

He yells. "Coach, it's attacking me again."

"Kiyora, good luck fighting whitebait then." Coach Akiba doesn't bat an eye, checking if each net was set up correctly.

"Coach are you agreeing with him?" The betrayal. She's strict yet gets along well with everyone, but you never expected her to side with Kiyora.

"If it'll get you off of him yes, c'mon, you're here to practice. Go join wrestling if you want to jump on other boys." She calls everyone else other (in other words, Kurona, Hiori, and Nanase) and you release Kiyora.

"For someone so short you weigh so much..."

You shrug. "I like food."

"And I'd like it if you guys would shut up because I don't want to run anymore laps." Hiori says, not very quietly. "Hurry up you idiots."

Coach shoots a glare, that's more than enough for you and Kiyora to scramble towards everyone else.

"Right. Now that we're adjusting our playing order, we're going to get Hiori and l/n to try out different pairs." You and Hiori share a glance. "Play a set, write down who wins, then swap. I'll do drills with whoever's not on. Sounds good?"

Strong and united, a confident 'yes' echoes in the gymnasium.

"Hioriiiin I'm ready to off myself and go see jesus."

He ignores your whining, swallowing a large gulp of energy drink. "You're not even religious."

Hiori stares at you with disappointment, while you lie on the gym floor. You muster up the strength to roll over onto your stomach. "So it's you and Nanase, me and Kurona..."

You roll back around, sitting up and accepting a drink from Hiori's. "Called it. They're the most balanced options too."

Nanase's tactical and defensive style compensates for your impulsive offense, which makes up for his fear of risk taking. Getting into nationals should be in the bag, you cover Nanase's weaknesses and he covers yours.

The only worry is singles.

"Good job y/n, you did great. Great." Kurona pats your back, settling down next to you to stretch. "Summer really sucks, doesn't it? My hair feels all sticky 'n gross." He eyes his braid, holding it up with his fingers in disgust.

You lean forward to touch your toes. "You too, Kurona. I hate you for making me run so much though." The amount of trickshots he had under his sleeve was impressive, you'd sell a kidney to do them half as well as him, or at all. "Only two months until qualifiers start..."

"We'll be fine." Nanase joins the small circle of you, Kurona, and Hiori. "Haven't known ya long but ya improving a lot already."

"What are the opponents like?" Hiori pushes against Kurona's back after he asked. "How come our school's never been to nationals?"

"I've never been to qualifications. Before you two it was just the three of us."

"Actually?" You whip around to Nanase. "Then it's also Kurona's first time competing for a place at nationals."

Nanase nods. "Before Kurona there were a bunch of third years. They got close but Kamakura High beat them in semi finals."

"Are they the powerhouse of our province?" If that's the case then they would've went to nationals at least once in recent times. There should be something online to analyse if you dig around hard enough. You pirate plenty of shows, footage of national comps shouldn't be that bad.

"Exactly. We lost 3-2. Coach only put on the best members." Nanase takes off his headband, about to wring it out for sweat before deciding that'd be too gross for now. "There was a really good player that was my age though. He played in doubles, he's definitely going to be a big threat now."

"What his name, name?" Kurona pulls out his phone. "We could find something about him online."

"Ryuusuke? Ryuuji? It's been a while I've completely forgotten." Your senior scratches his head.

"Eh. We can ask someone else no?"

"y/n, ya know I'm the only person left from the club since three years ago."

Your jaw drops. "Actually?"

He nods. "Actually. I was the only first year that joined. That's why I was relieved that we just had enough to enter a competition thanks to you guys."

Silence prevails for a while. Kurona stares at god knows what in the distance and Hiori fiddles with his fingers. Nanase seems fine though, smile remaining without falter.

"Is our sport really that unpopular?" Hiori's brow furrows. "I know soccer and volleyball are massive but we only have the bare minimum. Which is like, crazy."

"And Kiyora had to go home early." Kurona adds.

"If we don't do well it'll be the end for us." You vocalise what everyone's been thinking, an uncomfortable truth. The school won't bother with a team that's barely counted as one and doesn't produce any results.

"That gives us more reason to train hard, doesn't it?" Nanase still grins without a sign of it fading soon. "Bare minimum or not I'm grateful to have you guys here, I want to the best we can for my upperclassmen's sake.

You slap your cheeks, to which Hiori flinches out of surprise. You jump to your feet. "Nanase's right, we have to make the most of what we've got. I'll destroy Kamakura High and that Ryuuji guy."

Nanase chuckles. "Pretty sure it was Ryusei."

"Ryusei's the energetic one on our soccer team." Hiori corrects. "But yeah, you're right. No point in sulking. Why'd you stand up to say that though?"

You shrug. "It just happened."

Hiori laughs, a giggle cascading into almost wheezing.

"Shut up." He doesn't, you're ready to tackle him.

"Oh, Coach!" Nanase waves to her, and never mind, tackling Hiori will be for another day. "Is everything okay?"

She hurries to where the four of you sat. "Just a couple of phone calls with other schools."

"About national qualifications?" You can't name anything else it could be, maybe joint training.

"You could say that." She glances at her watch. "I'll have to lock up soon, you all ready to go?"

"Yeah, we just finished with stretching." Everyone else nods in agreement, you stand up and they do the same. "Thank you for today."

"Good work today, take it easy and rest plenty on the weekend, okay? Get home safely."

"I don't like where this is going."

Hiori complains, but follows you to the classroom anyways.

"What are you on? Now is perfect. They're still in the middle of a practice match." And you're spot on, you can see them play from the window, tiny dots chasing around an even tinier dot; black and white blurring into grey.

Nanase and Kurona were long gone, going their respective ways while you went on your little side quest; returning the money.

"You look like you're trying to rob him." Yet here he is, accompanying you as you make your way to where you sit together. "You guys are lucky, the view's nice from here."

"Yeah but to look at the view I have to look at Rin, to look at Rin means to declare war against him." Rin had left his stuff on his table, so had Isagi, the muscular friend of Isagi and the hyper friend of Isagi (you never learnt their names).

Hiori nods, definitely to get you to shut up rather than out of understanding. "What's this?" He grabs the sheet of paper near the bottom of your desk, opening it. "Oh my."

Without looking up from Rin's bag, you reply. "That's what I was talking about. When he got yelled out then sent out."

"I can see why he's so angry all the time now..." Hiori skims through the 'conversation' you and Rin were having in class. "By the way, won't he know if you just put it into his bag again?"

"That's why." You pull out his lunchbox, wrapped in fabric. "I'll slip it into the fabric. So he won't notice until he gets home."

"Should I be impressed or disappointed at the amount of effort you put into this?"

You pack up Rin's stuff. "Disappointed. At Rin, not me." There you go, it's as if you never snooped around. "C'mon, let's get out of this place."

Hiori nods, readjusting the strap of his bag on his right shoulder in the hallway.

"Gimme that." Hiori tries to protest, but it's easy to take away from him. "My bag's lighter than yours anyways."

"But still—"

"Nope. You pushed yourself a lot during training."

"I wonder who's fault that was." You both know it was you; always aiming for any neglected areas of the court, forcing him to run and dive everywhere. You shrug, rushing ahead of him anyways. "Thanks though." He rolls his right shoulder a few times before catching up.

"No worries." It's not heavy, not remotely if it's for the sake of him. "By the way, didn't coach seem off today?"

"Yeah. But I'm not sure if I've known her long enough to make that sort of observation."

Good point, maybe you'll check with Nanase. "That's true."

"You look awfully happy." Hiori comments simply. "Was returning his money that important?"

"Nope! I just feel excited for qualifications. I mean we finally have a coach and have a team now. High school's so good."

It's thrilling, even if it's a bare necessity for any athlete it's a luxury in your eyes. Gourmet you've never tried, grandeur that you couldn't afford.

And there's Hiori.

You stare at the roof in awe, for no apparent reason; just caught up in fantasy. Scoring a beautiful match point and moving onto nationals, screaming in triumph and running into Hiori's arms. "I'm going to soar higher than ever and I get to do it with you."

"I like that." His pink lips curl into a smile, eyes squinting with joy. "We'll beat Kamakura High."

"Then to the nationals we go! Let's go get shaved ice today! We deserve it. Just because."

"Just because." Hiori echoes with a smile.

THREE | MASTERLIST | FIVE

pairing. itoshi rin x reader

synopsis. all itoshi rin ever wanted was a peaceful high school career, his plans go to ruin thanks to the school's badminton genius; entangling their lives—and emotions together.

contents. rivals to lovers, badminton player!reader, sports romance, fluff, high school au

a/n. malaysia v china has made me a shi yuqi fan (haven't watched him before but GOD DAYUM he's so cool and yes i'm projecting onto reader). also i tried to depict the kansai dialect the same way english manga does (idk what i'm doing)

taglist. @yuzurins, @silly-ez, @chigirizzz, @kaiserkisser, @httpshujii, @saesins , @yoimyas , @saetorinrin, @hxniplayz , @certaindreamchopshop , @rroxii , @jar-03m, @celestair , @satoruukisser , @kaitfae , @biaonww , @hellothere9597 , @its-ur-pillow, @saesofficialwife, @miyanaranagikenmal-intp , @popponn , @kascar-chronicle , @junberrry , @sereniteav , @raphsimp, @lectris00

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localragingraccoon · 4 months

Text

Imagine being the older one for once. Like Price is the new private who is head over heels in love. You're his superior who has to deal with all his shit. He is practically begging on all fours for you to give him a chance even though you are almost 20 years older than him. He is determined, that's for sure, but he's also pretty clueless that you've got a soft spot for him.

The only reason he realizes is because one of his squad mates knocked some sense into him. He stands there shocked for a second before sprinting down the halls of the base to find you. Once he gets there he is blabbering so much you can't understand a single thing he says. Eventually he calms down enough to get it out as you stand there chuckling. He has no shame and doesn't get the slightest bit embarrassed when you start laughing. Until you admit that you felt the same, for months, and he never realized it.

He feels a little silly before he starts getting all giddy again. He'll have the goofiest smile on his face the whole day. He was so excited he forgot to ask you out which he realizes in the middle of the night when he quickly jumps out of his bunk and breaks curfew to go find you and ask in the dead of night because God forbid he wait until morning.

You wake up when he is knocking on your door as you open it to see him standing in his briefs. Of course he forgot to get dressed in his rush to find you so you hurry him into your room so he doesn't get caught breaking curfew standing in the halls in just his underwear. That's when he officially asks you out. In the middle of the night, standing in the middle of your room in just his underwear.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod fanfic #call of duty mw2 #captain price #john price #price x reader #price x you #price x y/n #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x you #price x male reader #price x female reader #john price x male reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 2 years

Text

Say you'll still be by my side

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Summary: Eddie made it out of the Upside Down, barely alive. He’s in a coma now but you refuse to let him go.

Warnings: Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Trauma, Scars, Light Angst

Available on: AO3

A/N: Another Fix-It but this time with the reader taking care of him. The Duffers have to pry him off my cold hands if they want me to let him go because there’s no way this is happening any time soon. Hope this gives you as much comfort as it gave me while writing it. Eddie is alive and I accept nothing else.

“I can’t believe we did it!” Robin said and hugged you while your eyes were fixed on the bloody ground in front the villa. Was that really it? That…easy?

You hugged her back, but your mind was already wandering towards the two people who were supposed to distract the bats. It must have worked because you didn’t see a single one.

“Let’s get back to the others quickly,” you suggested and she let go of you, your eyes finding Steve’s and he gave you a nod.

There was this feeling in your stomach and a painful tug on your heart. The four of you quickly made the way back to the trailer.

They would be fine. They promised they’re not heroes, promised they’d run as soon as it got bad. You would have stayed with them, but Eddie absolutely refused to let you join the ‘Bait Party’ how he had called it.

He had been the bait and yet, he had been so worried about you.

Letting go of his hand as you split up had been the hardest thing you had done in your entire life.

As the trailer park came closer, your steps became faster without even realizing it until you broke out into a full jog.

“Y/N, wait!” Steve yelled after you, but you didn’t hear him. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you felt sick in your stomach.

As you broke through the tree line, you could hear someone crying and your stomach dropped. You looked around frantically until you saw Dustin, holding someone in his arms.

No.

You sprinted over to him. “Dustin! Eddie!”

He looked up at you as you basically fell to your knees next to him, his eyes red and puffy, tears straining his face.

No. No. No.

Eddie was in his arms, not moving, blood covering his face, the bats lying dead all around them. His body was covered in bites and scratches, his clothes were painted in red and it made you so, so sick.

“No,” you whispered in disbelief and Dustin wanted to say something but only violent wails came out of his mouth.

You took Eddie’s head and put it in your lap, moving the hair out of his face, wiping the blood of his cheek. It was only a very faint movement, but you felt his breath on your hand. He was unconscious and barely breathing.

“He’s alive,” you whispered, and Dustin looked at you with big eyes, his wails stopping. “We need to get him out of here.”

Dustin seemed to need a moment to actually realize what you said and then nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, he will be fine.” You were convinced of that. You needed to believe that, or you'd break apart right here, right now. There was also no way you’d let Dustin take any kind of blame. He was too young for that.

The other three came through the tree line and Steve immediately came running as soon as he saw Dustin’s face, taking him into his arms and then looking down at you and Eddie.

“Is he…?” he carefully started to ask but you shook your head.

“Can you carry him? We need to get him to a hospital,” you said and swallowed, tears in your eyes. The way he lay there, bruised and bloodied, it broke your heart into a thousand pieces.

Your heart was beating in your chest and despite the anxiety eating you alive inside, you tried to stay calm. Hoping that if you were calm around Eddie, he would feel it somehow.

Steve nodded and let go of Dustin, Nancy placing an arm around the young boy instead to comfort him.

Your friend crouched down next to you, and you tried to lift Eddie up on his back so he could carry him better.

It worked, somehow. You stayed by Eddie’s side the whole time, taking one of his hands in yours. “I’m here, Eddie. I won’t leave you.” It was only a soft whisper in the darkness of the Upside Down but you were sure it would get through to him.

Dustin explained what happened as you were on the way to the portal, and you didn’t know if you were sad, angry, worried or everything at the same time. He wasn’t supposed to play the hero, but you understood why he did it.

The anxiety inside of you made it hard to breathe. He had to be okay.

---------------------------------

The doctors didn’t give you a lot of hope.

‘If he makes it through the next two nights, he might live.’

Eddie was too strong to die, you were sure of that. He couldn’t. You needed him more than anything in your life. He was your home and your heart and there was no way you’d let him go.

They warned you the hospital costs were high, especially for a criminal like that and you wanted to punch them in the face right there. Nancy was already on it, talking to the government about making the murder charges go away.

The medical costs were something you would worry about later; you’d pay them on your own if you had to. Your parents would understand. Hopefully.

In the end, he was in a coma to let him recover from the blood loss and so he wouldn’t feel the pain. The wounds weren’t deep but there were so many of them. Attacked by wild dogs was the excuse. The doctors looked like they didn’t believed you but you couldn’t care less, they would never understand.

This town was fucked anyway.

Your days were filled with visiting him at the hospital. After Vecna had opened the portals through Hawkins, everything was a mess but all you cared about was him and Max. Every time you went to get a coffee, you also checked on Max who was in a room nearby.

She had always been like a little sister to you, especially after losing Billy, but you couldn’t split yourself apart, so you were thankful that Lucas was here for her every day.

At the beginning, the nurses kicked you out at night. No visitors allowed bullshit. Sometimes you sneaked back in. After Eddie was declared innocent, thanks to the whole government relationships you had, the nurses accepted you here around the clock. They know they couldn’t keep you away.

Suddenly it was okay. It made you angry, but you didn’t want to project any bad energy to Eddie, so you always swallowed your anger when you entered the room.

You were always holding his hand, letting him know you were here. You talked to him, sang to him, playing his favorite songs after basically bringing all his cassettes that were intact from his trailer. Sometimes you read to him from your favorite book, the one that he wanted to read just because you told him it was your favorite.

You told him a lot, about yourself, about your friends, about what was happening in Hawkins. All you wanted for him was to wake up and you had heard talking to a person in a coma would sometimes trigger something in them.

There was not a single day that passed where you didn’t tell him you love him. Placing kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his hands but you never got a reaction back.

He just lay there, eyes closed, his body bruised and battered and sometimes you weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. It hurt so much and it felt like a part of your soul was missing.

You frequently brought him flowers, sometimes you bought them, sometimes you just picked them randomly. It was important for you to let him know that someone had been here in case you weren’t present when he woke up.

You had no doubt that he would, one day.

Every time the nurses changed his bandages, you stayed in the room even though they always told you to get out. At this point you could probably change them by yourself from watching them so much.

The wounds were bad and nasty and some of them were even infected. They looked disgusting and would for sure leave some scars all over him. Nothing compared to the little scars he had before from falling off a bike or getting into a fight with someone.

Every time you saw the bat tattoo on his arm it made you sick. He really needed to get that replaced at some point, so you asked the nurses every time to cover it up with the bandage. They did it and you were grateful for that. You were sure if you had to look at it for too long, you’d break down crying.

Twice a week you shaved his beard, the small stubble that was growing. You knew he didn’t like his beard, so you made sure he didn’t wake up with one. One day, you’d ask him why he didn’t like it, he hadn’t told you yet and the curiosity has always been there. You assumed it might remind him too much of his father.

“Please, wake up, I need you.”

It was the plea that followed you through your everyday life now. You needed him so much and not hearing his voice was breaking your heart. The rare times you were at home you listened to the mixtape he made you where he had recorded himself singing songs that he had written for you.

It was the only way to hear his voice at the moment. You didn’t know how long you could do this anymore.

On the day where Hellfire would normally be, you’d bring D&D supplies to his room. You rolled some dice and talked about your characters and new campaign ideas. If he had a list with things he loved most, you were first, his guitar second and D&D was third.

He had promised you to teach you how to play the guitar one day. You kept reminding him of that, saying he couldn’t leave you until he taught you how to play Master of Puppets.

Days became weeks and sometimes there was this little voice in the back of your mind that told you he wouldn’t wake up anymore.

Things you didn’t want to hear. Your anxiety speaking.

You wouldn’t lose hope. He would wake up one day and even if it would take years, you’d be here for him. Moving on was not even an option.

Eddie was your entire life; you couldn’t let him go.

Wayne told you that he couldn’t pay for all the bills after so many weeks, but you just shook your head, telling him you would take care of it. At first, he refused but he loved his nephew like a son so in the end, he gladly took the offer.

It took some time to convince your parents as they hadn’t been fond of Eddie before but now with him in a coma and you barely at home, they realized how much he meant to you, so they agreed. Grateful wasn’t even enough to describe what this meant to you.

“You’re going to wake up,” you whispered to him that night. No matter how long it would take. You believed that he was strong enough to battle whatever was going on inside of him. There was no way he wasn’t able to defeat whatever was holding him captive inside his mind.

After you and Wayne, it was Dustin who came by most. The boy felt so guilty about everything that had happened, but you reassured him that he couldn’t have done anything. Eddie would be fine, no matter what. Dustin was too young to take any guilt inside of him.

The two of you grew even closer when you were sitting in the hospital room, talking to each other about your memories of your Dungeon Master. You hoped he could hear how much Dustin adored him.

“Your hair has gotten longer recently,” you told the boy, and your eyes went towards Eddie, then back to Dustin. “Got inspiration?”

Dustin chuckled and looked a little embarrassed. “Maybe?”

It was clear as day that he was growing out his hair so it could match Eddie’s and you thought it was really adorable. Steve was mostly acting like a babysitter and like a mother to Dustin, while Eddie was a big brother or father figure.

Eddie was a role model for Dustin, they were the same in a way and it was heartwarming to watch. You prayed to God that you could see their interaction again soon.

“He’ll wake up,” you promised Dustin and took his hands in yours, looking at him.

“I know. I just wish he already did,” he sighed, and you gave him a small smile. You understood that.

“On the bright side, your hair has more time to grow,” you teased and tugged a little on one of his long locks.

“Oi!” Dustin laughed and shook his head, eyes finding Eddie’s unmoving face again. “I miss him.”

“Me too,” you admitted and turned towards Eddie. It hurt to see him like that. Even after all this time, you couldn’t get used to it.

Spring turned into Summer and while the gang tried to figure out what the portals were and where Vecna went, the town slowly started to believe that it hadn’t been just an earthquake, starting to make conspiracy theories that the government was behind all of it.

But all you cared about was Eddie.

You didn’t give a shit about the town. You barely cared if any Demogorgons came to eat you alive because life isn't worth living without him anyway. All you wanted was to hear him say your name again.

It had been a long day at the hospital again and you could barely stay awake. You were holding his hand, your face on top of the bed and sleep was slowly washing over you. It was so hard to keep your eyes open and the last few months had left traces on your body and mind.

Coming here every day, caring for him, worrying about him, it was physically and mentally exhausting. Some of your friends from school had asked if you were sure about this, that you should take a break and stop completely but there was no way you’d leave him alone. He needed you. No matter in what dark place his mind was in the void of the coma, he wouldn’t be alone.

Your dreams were filled with memories of you and him. Epic adventures during Hellfire. Him and you hiding from everyone at the beginning of your secret relationship. The first time he told you he loved you. Introducing him to your parents and dealing with their wrath. Running away together for a week without telling anyone. The first time he truly made you his.

While your dreams made you smile in your sleep, you didn’t notice the squeezing of your hand at first. Your dreams were deep and beautiful, and you didn’t want to wake up to a world where he couldn’t tell you that he loved you.

“Y/N.” Your name was a hoarse whisper in your dreams, and it made you smile even more. You missed him saying your name so damn much.

It took a long moment for you to realize that it hadn’t been in your dreams. Slowly but steadily, you woke, not wanting to leave the memories of him in your dreams but when you opened your eyes, you saw him looking at you.

At first, you thought this was still a dream. His brown, tired eyes were fixed on you, his hand squeezing yours and he was smiling a little. This had to be a dream.

“Y/N,” he said your name again and as soon as it fell from his lips, you knew this was real. Tears shot into your eyes and immediately started to fall. You couldn’t believe it. He was awake after all that time.

“Eddie,” you choked out and jumped out of your chair, hugging him. He let out a huff of pain and you almost pulled back, afraid to hurt him more but he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

“Don’t let go,” he begged with a rough voice, and it must be so hard for him to talk.

“I never did,” you said and buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears straining the pillow behind him.

The way he hugged you told you that it had been the right choice.

As soon as you were able to breathe again and tears stopped, you moved away, looking at his face. He was also crying; his bottom lip wavering and you placed a soft kiss on it.

“I’ll get a doctor. I must call the others. I-” You started babbling and he laughed weakly.

“Calm down,” he said with a soft smile, and you raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before returning the smile. Hearing his voice felt so good, your whole body was warming up and it still felt like a dream.

“I need a doctor to tell me you’re actually awake.” You sighed and placed another kiss on his lips. They moved slowly against yours, as chipped and broken as they were but you didn’t care. You needed his lips on yours. The soft movement of love.

After you pulled away it looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t, so you just smiled at him before leaving, looking for a doctor.

It was the middle of the night, so you had to look for quite some time to find one that was available but as soon as you told them, they immediately went to check up on Eddie. This time, they didn’t let you into the room as three doctors were swarming him, calling it a miracle and all of that.

Bullshit.

Miracles didn’t exist. Eddie was just so strong he got back here all by himself.

Normally you’d call at least his uncle, but he was working at the moment and there was no way to reach him. Your friends would be asleep and could wait until the morning.

Maybe it was a little selfish of you but right now, you wanted it to be you and him, at least for a little while.

The doctors left his room and told you briefly he looked fine, the few tests they did on him were positive and that they would do more in the morning. He’d need a long way of recovery to get back to a normal life but all of that didn’t matter to you now.

He was awake. After months.

When you entered the room again, he smiled at you weakly, and you sat down at your usual spot.

“You should rest,” you told him, looking at his tired eyes but he just shook his head.

“They told me I was in a coma for months. I think I’ve rested enough,” he said, and it made you laugh. Always so stubborn.

“How’s the pain?” you asked but he just shook his head.

“I barely feel anything. They said it will take at least a day for all of it to come back. Can’t wait for the pain.” He grimaced and you took his hand in yours, placing a kiss to the back of his hand.

“I missed you. So much,” you told him. He just nodded, looking deeply at you. It probably didn’t really hit him yet that he had been gone for so long. It must be so weird for him.

“I know.” He was quiet for a moment. “I…heard everything. Well, maybe not everything but a lot. How you were here every day. How you told me some very embarrassing secrets about yourself. How you talked with Dustin.”

Tears were gathering in your eyes again when he told you what you had hoped. He had known he wasn’t alone all this time. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks again.

The way he looked at you made you weak and God, you missed this.

“Knowing you were here every day, it made me fight even more. I wanted to come back to you, so badly.” Well, there goes your plan with not crying because those words had you bawling.

He looked at you so softly as he raised his arm, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“You made it. You’re back,” you whispered between sobs, and he nodded at you. You didn’t even know if you said it to him or more to yourself.

“It’s going to be okay now.”

--------------------------------------

Everyone was so relieved to see him awake and talking, it warmed your heart. The next day you had immediately called his uncle who came by within a couple of minutes, dead tired but just wanting to see his nephew.

Briefly after that you called your friends and they barely fit into the room, bringing him balloons and flowers and all that shit he would normally hate.

Not now.

Now he was just happy to see everyone alive and happy for him. Well, except Max. He asked about her and Lucas took the time to explain. A pained expression was on Eddie’s face afterwards but then he said if he was able to wake up, she would too. You had also explained to him that the cops were not after him anymore, that everything was taken care of.

In the end, not much changed for you. You were still here day and night and didn't want to leave him alone. You were with him through all the treatments and tests he had to go through. He was always so exhausted at night, but you told him you were here for him, watching over him and nothing bad would ever happen to him again.

During the night he would wake you up from time to time. Not on purpose but it was the way his body jerked, how he whimpered and sometimes even screamed. When you finally asked him what all of that was about, he just went quiet for a long time.

“The bats. They follow me in my dreams. They rip me apart again every night,” he admitted, and you felt like crying for him. Of course, the bats. The trauma was sitting deep in his bones and mind, and you weren’t even sure how to handle that.

The next day you bought him a dreamcatcher and tied it above his bed.

“Isn’t that quite superstitious?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow, but you just stuck your tongue out.

“I chose it with love and love will keep the nightmares away, okay?”

In the end, they did. Or he simply started to come to terms with what had happened to him, but he woke you up not as often anymore and you wondered what he was dreaming about instead.

The first time he was able to take a shower he didn’t want you there and it hurt a little.

“You sure? Do you really want me to get an old nurse instead of sexy me to undress you?” you teased, and he groaned as he was sitting at the edge of his bed.

“I just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his greasy hair and you waited for him to finish, your hands on his legs. “I don’t want you to see.”

“See what?” you asked confused, you were quite sure you knew his body quite well at this point in your relationship.

“The scars,” he whispered and then it dawned on you. He was ashamed of all the bitemarks and scratches the bats left behind. It broke your heart to see him like that, thinking that it was something to be ashamed of.

You took his face in your hands and lifted it, so he had to look at you.

“Eddie Munson. I was here the whole time. I saw the bites turn into scars every time the nurses changed the bandages. I saw how infected they were and how they healed. They’re not something you need to hide from me,” you told him with a stern voice, and he smiled slightly at you.

“But they’re ugly and all over me. I hate them, I can’t even look at them,” he admitted before you kissed him, deeply, pouring all your love into it.

“They just prove how brave you were back then. They’re battle scars and that’s pretty metal if you ask me.” You grinned at him and then put your forehead against him. “They prove that you’re a hero. My hero.”

That was enough to make him get up from the bed and accept your help. You walked with him to the small shower in the bathroom, helping him out of the hospital clothes.

When you got a full look at his naked body for the first time, you realized how bad it actually was. Especially his stomach and chests were covered with bites and tiny claw marks but also his legs and arms, even a part of his neck. Scars that would never fade away.

“Don’t look at me like that, please,” he begged, and you noticed how he was watching you run your gaze over him while leaning against the cold tiles, his legs shaking a little.

“What do you mean?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“With pity,” he muttered, and you slightly hit his arm where you knew there were no wounds.

“I’m not looking at you with pity, Munson! I just haven’t seen your naked body in a long time,” you told him with a wink that made him laugh. “Can you stand alone?”

“I can try,” he replied but it was all too wobbly and not safe enough in your opinion.

It was a split second where you decided to get in with him, fully dressed, just holding him, and washing the places he couldn’t reach.

You made sure to touch every single scar on his body, wanting to show him that you weren’t disgusted by them or anything, placing kisses on the ones that you could reach with your mouth while holding him steady.

You weren’t quite sure because of the water pouring down on you but it looked like he was crying. Your heart broke for him, again. You couldn’t express the emotions that were truly inside of you because that would mean you had to explain your love for him and words were not enough for that.

He had been so innocent in all of this and yet, he had suffered the most next to Max. It wasn’t fair and if Vecna showed up again, you’d personally make sure to rip his head off.

“I need to get this covered,” he said as you walked out of the shower, drying him, and then shrugging out of your wet clothes.

You followed his gaze to his arm where he just looked at the bats and you nodded. He was shaking.

While he was asleep after the shower, you already started to draw a new motive, one that would cover it up well enough and had a meaning to you both.

He cried the next day when you showed it to him and you promised him, as soon as he was out of the hospital, you’d find someone to get new ink under his skin.

Recovery was a long and hard road for him. He even admitted that sometimes he just wanted to give up because everything hurt and he couldn’t do this anymore.

Every single time you reassured him that he had been strong enough to pull out of a coma after everything and he would sure as hell be strong enough to get back on his feet.

Even though he didn’t seem to see his own progress, you did. It was better every day. At some point he was even able to play D&D with you at the small table of his room, out of his bed. It was so good to see him as a Dungeon Master again, but you also noticed how he left out monsters he used to love simply because they reminded him of the Upside Down.

Eddie asked you multiple times how Hawkins looked, and it was so hard to explain to him without him being able to see it. You always said that it looked like hell, but you’d figure everything out and he should just focus on his recovery. Everyone would be safe. You needed to convince him as much as you needed to convince yourself with your words.

You knew that he was afraid that things were crawling out of the portals would hurt him again. He was terrified and you understood that; you would be too after everything he had endured. Hell, every normal person would be.

Weeks into his recovery, he started walking on his own again, without help, but wasn’t allowed to leave his room. Dustin had brought his Walkie Talkies so you could talk to each other whenever you went out to run an errand for him. As soon as his appetite had come back, he had been craving different things the hospital wouldn’t let him eat.

Sometimes it was pizza, sometimes just something small like pretzels. The nurses were adamant when it came to his diet, so you were basically smuggling all the different foods into his hospital room. Seeing how he devoured them with the appetite of a teenager during a growth spurt made it all worth it. It was a good sign.

He had been so slim and weak after the coma, him getting his weight and muscles back was such a wonderful thing to see.

When the doctors finally told him he would be released in a week you were ecstatic for him, but he seemed to be bothered by something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him and tilted your head while he was just looking out of the window as soon as the doctors left.

“My uncle said he lives in a motel for free because he’s working for them after our trailer got ruined.” He sighed and turned to look at you. “I really don’t want to live in a motel.” A frustrated laugh left him, and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” you said and put a hand on his cheek. For a moment you pondered how to tell him until you grinned. “You’re going to live with me.”

He frowned at you, clearly confused. “With you?”

You nodded. “I talked to my parents. You can come live with us, your uncle too. They know how much you mean to me, and they also know your uncle is the only family you have left. He still needs some convincing but I’m sure if you ask him then he’ll agree.”

You saw how his brown eyes turned glassy, tears gathering in them.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said and leaned forward, placing a kiss on your lips. “I don’t know how I deserve all of this. Deserve you.”

You felt the little sting in your heart, despite everything that he did for you and the town, he still didn’t believe he deserved any of the good things that were happening to them.

“Because you’re a better man than you think you are,” you breathed against his lips, kissing him again before wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you more than anything, so please stop doubting yourself all the time.”

He and uncle moved in with you as soon as he was released from the hospital.

Eddie lived in your room with you, there was no other option you had accepted.

Wayne was offered the big guest room at the end of the hallway, but he chose the small bungalow out in your yard, not wanting to disturb family life too much, just grateful to have a normal roof over his head. He promised to get himself a new trailer as soon as he had the money, but your parents just smiled at that. They would let him live in the bungalow as long as he needed to.

The first night you shared your bedroom with Eddie was also the first night he made you his again. It was slow and full of love, and it made you cry. In the end, you had to take the lead because it was too much for him, but it was all worth it. Just his hands on your naked skin and him inside of you proved how right you had been about staying with him during all those months. He made you feel so alive.

Afterwards you let your fingers run over all his scars again and again like you had done during the last few weeks too. It had been a slow and long process but now he was slowly starting to accept them. They were a part of him and his history and one day, he’d be proud of them, you were sure.

The next day you woke up early to prepare a few things. When you came back to the room, he was still asleep.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you whispered into his ear before biting his earlobe softly.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled and turned away from you, but you just laughed, ruffling his hair a little until he looked at you.

“I’ve got a surprise.” A big grin was on your lips and your words got his attention.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up and letting out a big yawn while stretching.

“Remember I promised that as soon as you’re out of the hospital, we’re getting those covered?” you nodded at his arm where he wore a bandage around the bats. He kept the bandage on because he couldn’t stand to see the bats. “I found someone, and we can visit them right away.”

His whole face lit up and he basically jumped at you, tackling you to the bed with joy.

During the whole procedure, he didn’t look at his arm once until the tattoo artist told him that it was done. The beautiful new motive was covering the bats and he had to hold back tears, making you emotional too.

“I love it,” he said and smiled at the inked man in front of him before turning to you. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” you told him.

As you were making your way back to your place, he couldn’t stop staring at it. All the weeks before, he couldn’t even look at his arm and now he couldn’t take his eyes off.

“It’s fucking perfect,” he muttered, and you smiled at him before taking his wrist, making him stop in his tracks.

“No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you,” you told him, and you didn’t even know why you had the urge to tell him this now. It just felt right. “No matter if Vecna comes back or what the portals are going to do, I’ll always be by your side.”

He smiled widely at you before stepping into your personal space, pulling you into a strong hug. “And I’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

The words were sweet but also hurt at the same time. The last time he protected you and the rest of the gang, he almost died. You couldn’t go through this again.

“Just promise me you won’t leave me behind. The next time I want to stay with you, let me. I don’t want to be separated from you again,” you choked out, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

He winced a little at your words but nodded. You had told him before that you were mad at him for running out of the trailer like that, basically trying to sacrifice his life.

You had told him that there was no shame in running, repeating his words from a lifetime ago.

“We’ll face that fucker together, I promise,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss there. “There’s no way I’ll let go of your hand again.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t stop the rest of the tears escaping.

You’d love this man until your last day.

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