#kind of set up so that I can do a part 2 where you come back and we get that fun dynamic
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match one [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]
synopsis: y/n's struggling with harry's coaching before the first tournament and harry's feelings control him more than he controls them
word count: 10.2k
contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, fluff, harry being a boy and not being able control himself around y/n
this is part 2 of the game, read part 1 here
. . .
“Again,”
Y/N gritted her teeth and bounced the tennis ball on the ground before throwing it into the air with a straight arm and hitting it with the racket, watching as it pierced through the air to the opposite end of the court.
She heard a sigh come from the bench on the side of the court, “Again,”
She inhaled sharply through her nose to try and contain her temper as she repeated the same serve.
“Again,”
Y/N spun around on the heel of her New Balance trainers, her pleated, white skort twirling as she did. She crossed her arms and glared at the boy lying on his back in his school uniform which was now crinkled and unkempt after the school day. “You’re not even watching,” She replied for the first time after having done the same serve more than ten times already.
“I don’t need to, I know you’re not doing it correctly,” He replied, monotonously.
She clenched her jaw, “Well as my coach, aren’t you supposed to show me how I’m meant to do it correctly?”
“I can show you but it won’t change anything,” He said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs and sits up, “You already know how to do a flat serve, I’ve seen you do it. You’re just not hitting it hard enough. I can hear it in the way the ball lands on the other end of the court.”
“You could have just told me to hit it harder,” She retorts.
“Am I meant to play the game for you as well?” He quips which makes her blood boil.
This was their third training session, and Y/N had reached her limit. With her first proper tournament just three weeks away, she had hoped that seeking help from the best tennis player at Crestwood would elevate her gameplay.
However, Y/N was getting frustrated with each session being a monotonous repetition of drills she had already learnt herself. It grated on her nerves and she felt as though she was back to square one.
She was beginning to regret having enlisted Harry for his mentoring in the first place. Whenever they’d try to talk mutually to each other, it would just end up in an argument of some kind where they’d end up needing ten minutes to cool off.
Y/N had already qualified for the Academy Slam before she even asked Harry to coach her. There had originally been sixteen academies from the surrounding counties competing in the games and now there were only half and Y/N was one of them. She’d passed the qualifiers all by herself and maybe she could pass the games that way too.
“Again,” He said that one word Y/N was beginning to hate.
Who knew what she was capable of if she had to hear that word one more time.
Feeling a surge of anger, Y/N tossed the ball into the air and hit it with all the strength she could possibly summon. She watched as the ball made a fast and straight trajectory towards her target area which just so happened to be right beside Harry’s place on the bench.
He jumped up, a look of surprise on his face. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, eyes following the ball as it hit the fence.
Y/N's smirk wavered as he approached her, her surprise matching his when he spoke again. "Let's move on, shall we?"
By the end of the session, every inch of Y/N's body throbbed with exhaustion. She drained an entire water bottle in one go, her fitted polo shirt clinging to her damp skin. She had thought she'd engaged every muscle in her body, but the way her calves screamed at her with every step told a different story.
“Same time tomorrow?” Harry asked, standing above her and blocking the sunlight.
“I want to start training properly,” Y/N stated.
“We are training properly,” He argued.
“You realize you haven’t shown me a single tactic since you started coaching me right?”
“And?”
“How am I meant to win the first tournament if all I know how to do is basic drills?”
“Do you know how many times my coach made me practice flat serves before we could move on?” He asks but she doesn’t answer, “A month. I went home with blisters on my hands because I was doing them non-stop six hours a day.”
Y/N’s eyebrows raise, “You think tennis is just about being tactical then you’re not playing it properly. The only way you’ll ever be a good tennis player is if you master the techniques.” He explains, “I’ve seen you play Y/N. For someone who has never had professional coaching, you are one of the best players I’ve seen but you lack confidence in your technique. That flat serve you just aimed at me? One of the best flat serves I’ve seen in a while. If you can do that in every game, you’ll have no problem winning but if you want tactics? I can draw you a diagram and it’ll save two hours of my day no problem.”
Y/N tries not to show her surprise at his words. Instead, she takes them all in, “Shouldn’t we at least be analysing my opponent?”
She was playing against Vanya Maddison in her next game. She was tall which was a major advantage in the game but her spatial awareness wasn’t exactly on par.
“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.
“My speed?” Y/N frowned.
“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”
Y/N had no idea whether to take it as a compliment or not. She’d never heard Harry say anything good about her so was taken off guard by his words. “So are we still on for tomorrow because I have to meet Mitch in thirty minutes and if the answer is no at least I can actually plan on getting wasted tonight.”
Y/N took a moment to think. She had never expected him to say something positive about her, especially about her anger. It was a side of herself she often struggled to control, but hearing Harry acknowledge it as a strength left her feeling conflicted.
As much as she considered training on her own which would give her some peace and quiet, she wanted to see where her training with Harry would go. If he was right, maybe she’d actually have more of a chance of winning than she did on her own.
She stood up and put her gym bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow,” She walked past him, wanting to avoid the satisfied grin on his face.
“Y/N!” Harry called, she could hear him jogging towards her before she stepped out of the courts, “I wanted to give this to you.”
He placed in her hands a cassette tape with white masking tape on it with the words ‘Y/N’s theme songs’ scribbled onto it in black ink. “What is this?” She asked, looking up at him.
“When I was in Australia, I used music to help me get in the zone before a match. My coach told me to use a cassette tape because phones were too distracting,” He explained.
“You made this for me?” She frowned.
“What? You’ve never been given a gift before?” He chuckles.
Y/N looks down at the plastic in her hands. It’s not that she’d never been given a gift by anyone before- she and Sarah always exchanged gifts over Christmas and for each other’s birthdays- but it was rare for her to ever receive anything from anyone else. Her parents would often give her practical things at Christmas or transfer money into her bank account on birthdays.
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at her lack of reply but she cleared her throat, “I don’t have a cassette player,” She said but Harry quickly removed his backpack and pulled out a walkman.
“You can borrow mine,” He handed it over to her, “I won’t be needing it anytime soon since I’m not playing,” She noticed the downcast look in his eyes as he mentioned the fact he wasn’t currently able to play with his injury.
“Um, t-thanks?” She said, unsure of how to respond to his sudden kindness. It felt unusual.
“I picked a few songs that reminded me of you,” He smirks, “Don’t worry, they’re not all about a girl with an attitude problem.” With that he turned back around and walked towards the other exit to head to the car park.
She felt ease on her chest as the usual teasing remarks returned, “Asshole,” She called out to him to which he just put his middle finger up in reply.
. . .
After taking a long shower in the girl’s shower rooms in her dorm block, Y/N headed back to her dorm after changing into a white shirt and sweatpants. She could feel the strain in her arms and legs as she flopped down onto her bed.
Luckily Sarah wasn’t back from spending time with Mitch, so she took in the peace and quiet which came rare to her these days as all her mind had been on recently was the Academy Slam.
Her mind wandered off to Harry and his words from earlier. Y/N knew she was a good tennis player but it was the first time she had heard someone else tell her that. She wasn’t expecting it, especially not from her tennis rival of the past ten years.
Her eyes glanced at the cassette tape and the walkman she had placed on her desk before she headed off to the shower. Sitting up, she grabbed it and stared down at it for a moment before putting the cassette into the player and putting the headphones on.
She laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling of her room. Her fingers hit the play button and the first song began to flood her ears. The first few beats of Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ began to play and she immediately rolled her eyes. Then afterwards, ‘Fergalicious’ by Fergie.
She wondered how many songs Harry had managed to put on the cassette and how many were female anthems of empowerment.
The next song seemed to catch her attention even further when Gorillaz ‘She’s my collar’ began to play. The beat now permanently injected into her bloodstream along with the rest of the album from the number of times she had listened to it.
She wondered if Harry had known he had included a song by one of her favourite bands and whether he knew the meaning behind the song too. Maybe it had been a coincidence which was a thought Y/N had decided to settle on as she listened to the rest of the song.
‘Nothing to be justified yet
She the first I'm running with
She the one that get my collar
She the one I'm running with (she's my collar)’
. . .
The next day at school, Y/N sat in the library during her study period to study for her biology exam at the end of the week. Even though she was set on the scholarship, she still needed something to fall back on if she lost out in the next few games so she made sure she was still getting the best grades she could. It had also been ingrained in her to be the best in every class and she didn’t think that trait of hers would ever leave her.
“Y/N!” Sarah called, her voice echoing within the silence of the library.
Ignoring the irritated glances she received, she paced towards Y/N and sat in the empty seat beside her. Y/N smiled at her friend’s excitement. They were foils to each other and that’s what made them get on so well. Whilst Y/N had a black cat personality, Sarah was sunshine in a person which was probably why she was so perfect for Mitch who was equally as bright. “What’s up?”
“I need to ask you something and you’re probably going to hate me but Harry’s already said yes and-”
“Sarah,” Y/N placed her hands on her shoulders, “Breathe.”
Sarah did exactly that before continuing, “Would you do a feature with Harry for the school newspaper?”
Y/N frowned, “What?”
“The school newspaper? You know the club I’ve been part of for the past two years? They want to do a feature on your training for the sports section and I told them I would ask you.” Sarah explained.
“Oh I don’t know about that-”
“Pleeeassseee,” Sarah gripped her arm that was resting on the desk and batted her eyelashes.
“You know I’d do anything for you Sarah but I don’t know if I have the time and my focus is on my next game,” Y/N replied.
“Harry’s already said yes to it,” Sarah interjected.
“You asked him before me?”
“Well actually,” Sarah hesitated, “Luke, the boy who’s writing the article, asked him this morning,”
“Why didn’t he ask me?”
Sarah gave her a pointed look, “You’re not exactly the most approachable,” Y/N’s frown deepened at her words, “So will you do it?”
Y/N sighed, considering it before giving Sarah an answer. The last thing she wanted was for someone to be asking unnecessary questions in time that could be used to train for the first round of the competition but Sarah was her best friend and she knew how much the school newspaper meant to her and her university applications too.
“Alright,” She relented, “I’ll do it.”
Sarah squealed, receiving another round of vicious glares from other students in the library. Her arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, “Thank you,” She pulled away, “They’ll come by tomorrow afternoon during practice, is that okay?” Y/N nodded a response.
. . .
It was raining outside.
Y/N’s eyes stared out the window as she bounced a tennis ball on the hard floor of the gymnasium and wondered if the weather foreshadowed the next hour.
“Will you sit down?” Harry muttered, “You’re giving me a headache,”
“He’s late,” Y/N says, “We could have been practising,”
“Do you ever just do anything else?” Y/N shot him a glare at his sarcasm, “I get this is important to you but don’t you just want to, I don’t know, have fun?”
Y/N walked over to her seat right next to his and straightened herself for the interview the school newspaper had organised for them. Sarah had told both her and Harry to dress smartly for the occasion which, according to Harry meant a designer sweatshirt and trousers whilst Y/N had gone for a dress and pumps. It wasn’t overly smart for either of them but enough to make it seem like they had made an effort.
“The fact that you’re even suggesting that tells me you have no idea how important this is to me,” Y/N responds, monotonously.
She hears a scoff from beside her, “What?”
He turns to face her, his face rather too close, she notices three moles on his right cheek that she hadn’t ever seen before, “I think I know better than anyone how important this is to you but I also know from experience how important being in high school is with people your own age.” She forgets sometimes that even though he was whisked away to fulfil his place in the Australian Open, that his time of being a kid was cut short, “I don’t go out of my way to coach just anybody,”
“What do you mean?” She frowns but before Harry could reply, the doors to the gym open and in scrambles a sixth year with a messenger bag and a tripod with a camera dangling from his neck.
“It means,” he leans forward, murmuring, “if you had half the belief in yourself as I have in you then you wouldn’t need me at all.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Luke’s voice echoes as he steps towards them and places all three legs of the tripod on the ground and scrambles to screw his camera to it.
“What’s with the camera?” Y/N asked.
“O-oh, we’re recording the interview so I can write everything up later and we’re going to need your pictures together afterwards,” Luke explained.
“You want us to take a photo together?” Y/N frowned.
“Did Sarah not tell you?” Luke replied.
“Calm down, love. It’s just a photo,” Harry murmured and she tried not to react to the nickname he had used for her.
Once everything was set up, Luke sat across from them with his laptop on his thighs, questions already typed out, “So, you two have known each other for a while now?” Luke asked as he sat across from them.
As Y/N was about to tell him how they didn’t exactly know each other on a personal level but knew each other through tennis, Harry spoke up, “Since we were both in third year. I was eight and Y/N was seven but we’ve been in the same class since we were infants.”
Luke nodded, “That must help a lot in your partnership,”
Harry chuckled lowly, “Something like that,”
Luke types a few things down in his computer before turning his attention to Y/N, “Um, Y/N what made you turn to Harry for his coaching other than the fact he won the Australian Open?”
Y/N frowned, what more reason did she need to give? “Well, the fact he won is a big reason as to why I approached him,”
“But isn’t he injured?” Harry stiffened beside her. The way he asked made it sound like he was defective, unusable.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes but I’ve seen Harry play games with a dislocated shoulder. He’d just pop it right back in and start playing again. His current injury doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s one of the best tennis players I’ve seen at Crestwood.” Y/N ignored the looks from the two boys. She knew she’d have to compliment Harry at some point during this interview, especially if they needed to show a united front for the games.
“And do think the same about Y/N?” Luke asked Harry who now seemed irritated by him.
“I think,” Y/N was prepared for a backhanded compliment but what she got was something entirely different, “Y/N has all the potential in the world to go for what she dreams of and I hope to watch her do it all even if that means I’m watching from the sidelines.” This time it was Y/N’s turn to glance at Harry, taken aback by his words.
Luke spoke again, “You know some people are calling you the underdog in this tournament?” Y/N froze, it was the first time she had heard of it, “all the other women competing have had professional coaching and the school invests heavily in their tennis players.”
Y/N cleared her throat, “I didn’t know that but I have every intention of proving them wrong,” Harry bumped his knee with hers but she ignored it.
“And What do your parents think about you doing this before leaving exams?” Luke asked.
Y/N ignored the sting she felt at the thought of telling her parents what she was doing and the looks of disappointment she envisioned, which had been gnawing at the back of her head since she qualified. She answered confidently, "They're happy for me and excited to see me in the final."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows as Luke leaned in, his expression curious. "You think you'll get to the final?"
Harry scoffed, “Are you insinuating she won’t?”
Luke backpedalled slightly, sensing he’d struck a nerve. "I didn't mean to suggest that at all. It's just that some people doubt the capabilities of those who haven't had professional coaching."
"Hey Luke, do me a favour and invite those people to the first game in three weeks' time. Let them witness firsthand what it's like watching a player as skilled as Y/N, without any professional coaching," Harry's frustration was palpable, catching Y/N off guard with his assertiveness. Typically, she would be the first to break in such situations but it seemed Harry already had.
Luke’s face warmed as he realised he overstepped, “R-right, let’s move on.” He scanned through his list of questions to find something more light-hearted to break up the mood, whilst Y/N straightened her shoulders, thankful they’d gotten to the final round of questions. “What do you both like to do outside of training?”
“Together?” Y/N cringed, trying to picture spending time with Harry in a normal setting.
“Not necessarily,” Luke shrugged.
“My best friend is dating her best friend so we’ve been spending a lot more time together recently. Normally, I play guitar or recite poetry whenever I’m not coaching Y/N to volley properly,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the lies that left his mouth.
“I study,” Y/N stated.
“That’s it?” Luke’s eyebrows creased.
Her cheeks turned slightly pink, “I’m top of the class in all of my classes, that doesn’t just happen without hard work.”
She could feel Harry’s eyes on her and for the first time, she turned her head to catch his eyes. She noticed the frown on his lips and something in his eye that looked a lot more like concern or sympathy than the desire to tease her about her lack of social life.
“Well, I think that will be enough,” Luke stood up and grabbed his camera, “Do you mind if we take a few photos now?”
Y/N and Harry stood from their seats, side by side and looked into the lens of the camera. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from forcing a smile as Harry did the same, “You’re standing too close to me,” Y/N spoke through her teeth as the camera flashed.
"Look who's talking with their giant foot squashing my shoe," Harry retorts, a playful glint in his eyes. Y/N inhales sharply, her gaze dropping to her foot to see what he's referring to. But before she can react, Harry smoothly slides his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side with practised ease. Their eyes meet, and just as the camera flashes, capturing the moment, Y/N side steps out of his grip with an annoyed huff.
“Okay, that will be all,” Luke smiled.
As Luke packed his things away, Y/N and Harry stood awkwardly side by side without saying a word. Y/N glanced out the window and saw the sky had cleared up and the sun was setting. She needed to get back to her dorm to study for her French exam tomorrow as well as binge-watch tennis matches on YouTube which she’d been doing a lot recently.
“Did you really mean that?” Harry asked, catching her attention, “All you do is study outside of school?”
Y/N looked at him, “I hang out with Sarah some days but yeah, I mostly study. I don’t really have a lot of choice and I’m not naturally smart.” Harry’s head tilted to the side like he was secretly questioning her in his head, “What? Aren’t you meant to crack a joke about me being stupid or something?”
Harry's eyes softened, his voice gentle. "I could never think you're stupid, love," he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. She found herself speechless, unable to figure out what had gotten into him recently.
He pulled out his car keys from his back pocket and motioned his head towards the gymnasium exit, “C’mon,” He urged, “I wanna try something out and before you ask, it’s nothing to do with tennis or studying.”
Y/N’s feet stayed glued to the ground as he walked away and expected her to follow. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms, wanting to refuse his invitation so she could get back to her dorm. But curiosity got the better of her and she followed a few paces behind him as he led her to the empty car park.
Harry pressed the button on the car keys and the lights flashed on a black Audi hiding in the corner, “What are we doing?” She asked.
“Have you ever driven a car before?” He wondered, looking at her with a hint of mischief.
“Never,” She replied and was bewildered to see him open the door to the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day, love,” He smirked.
Y/N’s eyes widened, “N-no! Harry, I'm not driving your stupidly expensive car.”
“C’mon,” Harry chuckled, “Don’t be chicken.”
She scoffed, “I’m not being chicken, I’m being sensible. If I crash that car, I don’t even think my parents will have enough money to fix it.”
“My parent’s will,” He grinned, cockily, “Get in,”
“No, I’m not driving that car.” She insisted.
Five minutes later, Y/N sat in the driver’s seat of Harry’s Audi with her fingers over her eyes as he instructed her on how to start. “Are you crazy?” She whimpers as he switches the engine on.
“Stop worrying, I’ve got my hand on the break.” She looks down to see his hand already wrapped around the hand break, “Just stay calm and do what I told you to do. Clutch down, first gear and then ease your foot gently off the clutch.”
“You’re supposed to be teaching me tennis, not driving laps around the school parking lot,” Y/N argued.
“Think of this as a team bonding exercise,” He shrugged, “Okay now foot down on the clutch,”
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” She strangled out, placing her shaky hands on the wheel.
“Relax,” Harry chuckled, “You’re being dramatic.”
“It won’t be so dramatic when we end up in a tree,” Y/N retorted as she carefully felt the pedals and pressed down slowly on the clutch. Feeling the car rise, Y/N gasped and removed her foot.
“Calm down, it’s just because you put your foot on the clutch,” Harry was trying his best not to laugh at her, “Okay, now do it again.”
Y/N squeezed her hands on the wheel and repeated her actions, moving the gear stick “Okay, now carefully raise the clutch,” Harry instructed and as she did, he lowered the handbrake and the car slowly began to move forward.
“Holy shit,” Y/N wailed, “We’re moving,”
This time, Harry did laugh unable to stop himself after seeing her reaction, “Make sure you turn the wheel or we really will end up in a tree,”
Y/N did as she was told and turned the wheel slowly, “Okay, I’ll move into second,”
“Harry no!” She gasped but put the clutch down so he could move gears.
“Atta girl,” He beamed.
Y/N’s worried expression soon turned into shock and then excitement as she moved slowly around the car park, “I’m driving Harry!” Y/N grinned and Harry swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“You are,” He praised, “There’s nothing you can’t do.”
After switching between first and second gear and Y/N complaining that her feet were aching from how tense she was using the pedals, Harry offered to swap places and show her what it was really like to go out on an evening drive.
“Harry!” Y/N choked on a laugh as he went all the way up to sixth gear down the empty streets in the middle of nowhere, “Slow down,” She squealed.
Harry glanced at her, grinning when he saw how wide the smile was on her face. He pressed his finger on the button to wind down all the windows, “Oh shit I love this song,” He turned the volume up on the stereo as Beyonce’s ‘Love on Top’ started playing, blaring loudly through the speakers of his car.
“Baby it’s you! You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” Harry screamed the lyrics of the song and Y/N’s laughter sounded through the entire car as her hair blew behind her. “Sing it, baby!” He cheered, neither of them realising what he had called her.
“I’m not gonna sing it,” She shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as the engine revved.
“It’s the only way I’m gonna slow down,” He teased as the build-up to the chorus played.
Y/N giggled as Harry began to sing solo to the chorus again, giving her a look that had her rolling her eyes before she screamed out the lyrics alongside him, “When I need you, make everything stop! Finally, you put my love on top!”
Their laughter merged together as the song played out. Harry slowed down the closer they got back to town and cast a sideways glance at Y/N who was brushing her wind-swept hair with her fingers. “You okay?” He asked, seeing the glow on her face.
“Yeah,” She bit her lip, “I’m okay. I just don’t get to do stuff like this… ever really.”
He nodded in understanding. Harry had met Y/N’s parents a few times before. His parents were frequent visitors to their country club so he knew what they were like but he had no idea of the extent of the pressures they had put on Y/N to do well. It reminded him of his own parents and the last thing he wanted to do was allow someone to feel the same way he did whenever his parents were too hard on him.
“Wanna pull in somewhere to get something to eat?” Harry asked. It was getting late and they both had school tomorrow but he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let her go- not when she was having so much fun.
“Okay,” Y/N nodded.
He pulled into a dessert shop that was still open. Y/N followed him inside and to a booth in the corner. Harry ordered both of them bowls of soft-serve ice cream and Y/N even asked if she could have a strawberry milkshake to go with it. “I shouldn’t really be eating,” She told him.
“Hmm I heard drinking strawberry milkshakes improves your footwork. They served them all the time in Australia,” Y/N shot him a look that told him she knew he was bullshitting her but it made him smile.
“Are you nervous about the game coming up?” They’d been training non-stop every evening and Y/N was quickly improving everything she had already learnt on her own. After considering Harry’s words a few days ago, she knew Harry was right. He had been good for her technique and she felt even more sure of herself than she did at the beginning.
“No,” She said coolly, “I don’t have time to be nervous.”
Harry scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second.”
The waitress came over and placed their desserts in front of them, along with a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “Mitch says he’s going to throw a party at my place if you make it through to the semi-finals.”
“A party at your place?” Y/N quirked a brow.
Harry sighs, “He came up with the idea of throwing a party and then just kind of decided it would be at mine.” He explained.
Y/N nodded and took a sip of her milkshake. It had been so long since she had had something so sugary and sweet. She hummed before realizing she was being watched by the boy opposite her, “Just so you know, even though you bought these desserts and taught me how to drive, doesn’t mean I like you.”
Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling and dimples carving into his cheeks. Y/N’s heart stuttered but she pushed the feeling down, “Okay, tomorrow you can go back to hating me again and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen.”
“And you can do the same,” She says.
Harry gives her a look, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t put a label on, “I don’t hate you Y/N.”
She frowns, “You’ve always hated me,”
“No,” He shook his head, “Never.”
“But you’re always making fun of me,” And she always did the same.
“Because it’s the only way I get to speak to you.” He admits.
Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had always assumed Harry had hated her since their rivalry had gone on for so long. She didn’t know what to say, confused by the sudden revelation.
“Ew,” It came out before she even had time to think, “Don’t be nice to me, it’s making me uncomfortable.”
Harry seemed to deflate but quickly placed a smile on his face, “You make me uncomfortable and you’re singing, by the way, is awful.”
Y/N scoffed, "At least I don't sound like a dying goat." Despite the return of their familiar banter, her heart seemed to continue to flutter under Harry's earnest gaze, stirring a mix of emotions within her that she’d never felt before.
She didn’t know what was going on with her but the last thing she needed to think about was her emotions when her biggest goal to date was right before her.
. . .
Three weeks had gone by far too quickly for Y/N’s liking.
“Again,” Harry drawled.
Y/N gritted her teeth and repeated the backswing technique Harry had shown her but the angle was all wrong and the ball ended up going completely off court.
“Fuck,” Y/N spat, throwing her tennis racket on the floor and squatting, balling her hands into fists on her head.
Harry sighed, walking over. “You’re nervous about tomorrow,” He stated like he didn’t need her to confirm despite the fact she had constantly told everyone she wasn’t nervous about anything.
“I just need to win,” She mumbled.
“Get up,” Harry ordered.
Y/N did as she was told and stood up. He grabbed the racket from the floor that she’d thrown across the court like a toddler throwing their toys out a pushchair and flipped the racket between both of his hands. He handed it back to her and grabbed his own.
“I want you to mirror my actions,” He says and stands a few steps away from her.
He steps forward, tossing the tennis ball into the air before swinging his racket with both hands, expertly landing it in the left corner of the opposing court. Y/N tracks his every move, mimicking his actions as if she were his shadow.
Y/N’s ball lands slightly off target and Harry bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at the scowl on her face. He walks towards her and comes up behind her. Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels his fingertips press gently on her arm.
“You need to straighten this arm more,” He advises, his fingertips sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps as he straightens her arm out. “Calm down,” he murmurs, his mouth near her ear, “I can feel your heart beating.”
Y/N seems to lose every ounce of oxygen when he places his hand flat against her back where he can feel her heart beating, “Breathe,” He says, “You will win tomorrow, I will make sure of it.”
The warmth that flooded Y/N’s body quickly left as Harry took a step back, “Try it again,” He nodded towards her racket.
Y/N sighed, tensing her muscles again after Harry had practically managed to turn them into liquid. She tried to ignore the flutter in all of the pulse points in her body that were screaming to make contact with that new presence and swung her racket, landing the ball exactly where she wanted.
“There y’ go,” He murmurs, almost as if he was saying it to himself. “I think we should call that it for today,”
“What?” Y/N frowned, “The game is tomorrow, I need to practice.”
“Y/N, we’ve been practising for half the day already. You’re going to wear yourself out if you carry on,” Harry tells her.
“Fine,” She huffed but Harry gave her a knowing look.
“Come to my place,” He offers.
“Why would I do that?” She goes to grab her sweatshirt on the bench and pulls it over her head. It was getting colder now that the sun was going down.
“Because I know you’re just going to come back here once I leave and trust me, you don’t want to do that.” She opened her mouth to refuse but he continued, “We can watch Wimbledon on TV and order pizza.”
She wondered how he knew that Wimbledon was one of her favourite movies and pizza was her favourite food. “Is it the DVD exclusive?” Y/N asked.
Harry’s lips tilted upwards, “Of course,” Y/N nodded, following him to his car so he could drive them to his apartment.
Y/N remembered the last time she was in Harry's car three weeks ago. It was the first time Y/N truly enjoyed being in his company and the first time she had allowed herself to have fun and relax.
The day after, they resumed their usual arguing as if the previous night hadn't occurred. However, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by a surge of unfamiliar emotions swirling within her.
Despite the bickering, she kept noticing things about Harry—like the way he smiled and talked. It made her feel weird like there was something more between them that she hadn't noticed before.
The air was silent between them as the radio played lowly in the background. Harry turned into a block of apartments that looked far too expensive for a student to afford all by themself. “This is where you live?” Y/N asked, her eyes widening as he pulled into a spot.
“For now,” He says.
Y/N trailed behind Harry as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made their way to his apartment. When he swung open the door, flooding the space with light, Y/N couldn't help but notice the spaciousness of the apartment, as well as its emptiness.
“I haven’t had time to unpack,” Harry said, walking to the kitchen after kicking his shoes off, “Do you want anything to drink?”
“I’ll just take a glass of water,” Y/N’s eyes darted to all of the boxes that covered the floor.
She walked to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter, “Are those your trophies?” She asked, seeing the metal cups in an open box.
Harry smiled, “Yeah, I’ve kept all of mine even the ones that didn’t count.”
“They all count,” Y/N grins, walking over and pulling one out, “The battle of the sexes trophy.”
Harry smirked, walking round to stand beside her, “I still remember the look on your face when they handed me that trophy. If looks could kill, love, I don’t think I would be here.”
“It was a big deal to me okay?” Y/N replies, “I seemed to blame you for all my losses when I was a kid.”
Harry’s expression softens and his head turns to look at her, “Will you blame me if you don’t win tomorrow?”
Y/N’s smile falters, “No, I’d blame myself. I think if I lost this, I don’t know who I would be anymore. Tennis is my life.”
Harry’s eyes glint underneath the soft lighting of the kitchen, “God,” He whispers, “You drive me crazy y’ know that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you think you could love anything more?” He asks, ignoring her question.
“I can’t think of anything, if I did I’d have to love it an awful lot.”
“Okay,” He nods like he’s accepting a challenge.
Y/N narrows her eyes, “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” He shrugs, “But I want you to know-”
Before Harry could finish his sentence, the door swings open and the shrill sound of his mother’s voice fills the air. Y/N stands straight and she notices Harry tense up, taking a step in front of her, he pushes her behind him.
“Harry,” His mother sighs, “How are you darling?”
“Mum,” He replies, curtly, “What are you doing here?”
“Your father’s running late home so I thought I would come by to see how you were,” She says and then looks behind him.
Y/N doesn’t need Harry to introduce her as she steps forward and holds out a hand, “Hi Mrs Styles, it’s nice to see you again.”
"Y/N?" Anne gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "You've grown so much, you're beautiful." She reached out, taking both of Y/N's hands in hers and giving her an appraising look.
Y/N's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Styles," she stammered, feeling a mixture of nerves and warmth.
Anne smiled warmly. "Oh, call me Anne," she insisted before turning her attention to Harry. "I didn't know you two were such good friends."
Y/N and Harry exchanged a quick glance, both unsure of how to respond.
"I'm her coach," they both blurted out simultaneously, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Anne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed, her gaze flitting between them. "You're coaching?"
Harry nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he confirmed quietly.
"But Harry, your injury," Anne interjected, concern evident in her voice as she glanced down at his leg. "You're not meant to be—"
"I'm fine, Mum," Harry interrupted sharply, his tone making no room for argument.
"Harry, you know you can’t be playing-"
"I said I'm fine," Harry's voice rose, his frustration evident as he cut her off, causing Y/N to jump at the sudden outburst.
Anne's concern softened into a resigned sigh, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and understanding. "Alright, Harry," she relented, her tone gentler now. "Just promise me you're taking care of yourself."
Harry's features softened, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "I promise, Mum," he said, his voice softer now, more subdued.
Anne nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. That's all I ask."
As the atmosphere relaxed, Anne turned her attention back to Y/N, her smile warm and welcoming. "Well, it's lovely to see you again, Y/N," she said kindly. “Tell your parents we’ll be stopping by in the spring.”
Y/N returned the smile, her earlier nervousness dissipating in the warmth of Anne's acceptance. "It was nice to see you too, " she replied sincerely.
Harry glanced at Y/N, a softness in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. After seeing his mother out following her very brief visit, Y/N finally mustered the courage to ask, "What was she talking about?"
Harry's expression turned grave, his features shadowed by a sense of burden. "It was nothing," he replied.
"Why can't you play?" Y/N pushed, her concern evident in her voice.
"Y/N, I'm telling you to leave it alone," Harry warned, his tone firm.
But Y/N couldn't let it go. "If it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" she insisted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Because it's none of your business, that's why," Harry snapped, his words cutting like a knife.
"Nothing I do or say has anything to do with you, so go back to hating me because it's a hell of a lot easier than what I have to deal with."
Y/N's heart sank at his harsh words. With a deep breath, she crossed her arms, her resolve hardening. "You know, now I remember why we never got along in the first place," she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. With a sharp turn on her heel, she made her way to the front door. "You're such an asshole, Harry."
"Y/N," Harry called out, his voice tinged with regret as she stormed out of his apartment towards the elevator. "Y/N, come on, don't be like that."
"Go suck a dick," she shot back, stepping into the elevator before Harry could stop her.
As the doors closed, Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Let me drive you back, at least," he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the closing doors.
"Fine," Y/N huffed, her tone clipped with annoyance.
The car ride back to her dorm was tense and silent. When Harry pulled into the front of her dormitory, Y/N moved to open the door finding the silence far too uncomfortable. Then, out of nowhere, Harry's voice broke the silence. "I can't play tennis anymore," he confessed, his words heavy.
Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat. "What do you mean you can't play anymore? That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, her disbelief evident in her voice.
Harry's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I mean I can't ever play tennis again," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling with shock.
"I tore my ACL during practice for the French Open. I—" Harry's voice trailed off, unable to continue, “It was so bad Y/N and I was in so much fucking pain and no one would listen to me. I went through multiple surgeries and rehab but the doctors sat me down and said I couldn’t play unless I wanted to fuck up my leg for the rest of my life.”
“Harry…” Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears.
Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of Harry's words sank in. She glanced over at him, seeing the pain etched in his features, and felt a surge of empathy wash over her. It was a devastating blow for someone who had dedicated their life to the sport they loved.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with genuine sadness for the boy beside her.
Harry managed a small nod, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, “That’s why I had to come back here. My father can barely look at me and my mother won’t leave me alone. At least here I can be around people my own age but when I’m at home, it’s fucking suffocating Y/N.”
Y/N didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine losing the one thing she loved above anything else in the world and have to re-construct everything she had ever known to find something else to love just as much.
“I don’t expect you to say anything but I’d appreciate it if you showed me a little mercy,” He spoke.
“Why would you offer to coach me then? Would that not make things worse?” She asked.
He looks at her, really looks at her, like there was something on the tip of his tongue he wanted to say but couldn’t, “I figured it would alleviate the pain.”
“But I saw you play, I watched you and you beat me,” She exclaimed.
“Yeah and it hurt like a bitch afterwards,” He shook his head.
Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wondered why Harry had been unwilling to play against her during the training sessions and now she knew why. She felt awful, her heart was hurting for him.
“I don’t want you to feel pity for me and I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m tired of being treated like a broken toy and I think it would kill me inside if you looked at me differently.”
Y/N stayed quiet, facing forward and collecting her thoughts before saying, “Thank you for telling me,” She murmured, “And it doesn’t change anything. You’re still an asshole,”
Harry laughed and then his pinky brushed the side of her hand, “You will be everything tomorrow.” He whispered.
Y/N’s heart fluttered at the soft edge of his words, “You think so?”
His eyes softened, “I believe in you, more than anyone in the entire world.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath and looking out the window. The tension had settled and now a newfound respect lingered between them.
She would win tomorrow, for herself and for him.
. . .
It had been a while since Harry had been to a tennis tournament. The last time he was on a court for an official match was well over six months ago, it was a challenger match he participated in during his training for the French Open before his life took a vast turn.
He sat in the stands with everyone else from Crestwood who had come to watch the first game. Although Crestwood Academy invested more in the football team than any other sport, the turnout had been pretty good and nearly every seat was occupied by a student or teacher.
On the opposite side was Eaststone Academy who seemed to have invested heavily in their merchandise for Y/N’s opponent. Everyone was either wearing a t-shirt with Vanya’s name on it or carrying a sign with supportive catchphrases written in bold marker.
Harry craned his neck in hopes of seeing Y/N preparing herself somewhere outside of the court but couldn’t find her anywhere. He’d sent her a quick message this morning and asked her if she needed anything but she insisted she wanted to be alone.
“Fuck, it’s good we got in the queue early,” Mitch came by with an anxious Sarah, holding two cokes in his hand. They were both wearing navy shirts and sweatbands around their heads, Sarah was holding a sign that had Y/N’s name on it.
“She’s gonna hate you for that,” Harry tried not to smile.
“Oh I already know,” Sarah said, “She watched me make it last night and then almost ripped in half when I asked her if I should bedazzle it.”
Harry’s expression changed into one of concern, “How was she?”
“She’s nervous but she insisted she was okay,” Sarah rolled her eyes, “You know how she is.”
He did, which was why he was willing to accept the fact she wanted to be by herself even though he was desperate to drive over there with strawberry milkshakes just so he could see that smile he had been dreaming about for the past three weeks.
Suddenly, Eaststone Academy stood from their seats and cheered as Vanya Maddison came onto the court. “I’ve never seen such long legs,” Sarah gasped, saying what both Harry and Mitch were thinking.
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as the people around him stood on their feet. He glanced down to the court and his eyes fell on Y/N as she walked onto the court with a dip between her brows and her tennis bag over her shoulder.
She was wearing a white, pleated skort and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. Her hair was slicked back as tightly as possible into a braid and her white runners were tied up on her feet. He noticed she was wearing earbuds in her ears and then found the walkman he had given her clipped to her skort. He smiled at that, wondering which of the many songs he had put together she was listening to.
“There she is,” Sarah pointed and then waved to get her attention.
Y/N held a hand over her face to block the sun and looked up at the crowd. When she caught sight of Sarah, she offered a friendly wave before her eyes landed on Harry. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and then walked to her seat on the other side of the umpire.
“C’mon,” Harry murmured, feeling his palms sweating at the sight of her.
“She’s got this in the bag, H.” Mitch puts a hand on his shoulder.
Through the speakers, the umpire calls out the start of the match and everyone falls silent as both players walk to opposing sides of the court. Y/N bounces on her feet and swings her racket backwards and forwards as though warming herself up before the match starts.
When the first serve came, Y/N's reflexes kicked in. She returned the ball swiftly, keeping the rally going with her quick movements, remembering what Harry had taught her. Each exchange became more intense, but Y/N stayed determined, chasing down every ball.
When Vanya hit the ball for the other corner, Y/N ran towards it and returned the ball swiftly, earning the first point with a well-placed shot. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N gained an early lead.
“That’s my girl!” Harry clapped his heart in his throat.
But Vanya wasn't about to let up. With determination in her eyes, she fought back, winning the next two points with powerful serves and precise shots. The score was now in Vanya's favor, and the pressure was on for Y/N.
“Fuck!” Y/N released a growl and hit her racket against the floor before storming off to her seat. Harry was tempted to walk down and help her but he needed to let her see what she was capable of on her own.
Her anger was radiating from her, “I’d hate to get on her bad side,” Mitch said.
Harry couldn’t seem to reply as he leant forward with both his elbows on his knees. “C’mon, c’mon, you can do it.” He mutters, thinking of the first bit of advice he had given her.
“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.
“My speed?” Y/N frowned.
“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”
Y/N rolled her shoulders back and stood on her feet. She walked back to her line on the court and bounced the ball up and down on the ground before throwing it up in the air and hitting it with a flat serve, exactly the way Harry had taught her. Her anger radiated from her as she slammed the ball with her racket and hit it with such force it went flying to the other end of the court but not before bouncing inside the square right by Vanya’s foot.
Harry stood to his feet and pumped his fist into the air, “Holy shit!” Mitch exclaimed as Sarah cheered beside him.
They were now at match point and Y/N had to win this next round if she wanted to win the entire game.
The tension thickened in the air as people sat on the edge of their seats to see who would come out on top. This time, it was Vanya’s turn to serve as she launched the ball into the air and hit it with her racket to Y/N’s side of the court.
As Y/N unleashed powerful serves and precise shots, Harry found himself captivated by her every move. With each grunt of exertion, each flex of her muscles, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Despite the shifting heads of the spectators around him as they followed the ball back and forth, his gaze remained fixed solely on her.
Every aspect of Y/N's play had him in a trance—the way her muscles rippled as she sprinted across the court, the intensity in her expression as she anticipated Vanya’s next move, the graceful sway of her hair with each swing of her racket.
But as Harry watched, something stirred within him. A warmth spread through his veins, igniting a fire deep within him. Suddenly, he felt a tightness in his shorts, a physical reaction to the raw power and determination radiating from Y/N on the court.
"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered under his breath, his heart racing as he glanced down and saw the undeniable bulge in his shorts. Panic surged through him, his mind reeling with embarrassment.
"What's wrong?" Mitch's voice cut through his thoughts, and Harry quickly lowered his drink to conceal his arousal.
“N-Nothing,” Harry forces a smile, “I need to use the bathroom.” He doesn’t wait for Mitch to respond as she pushes past everyone to get away from the crowd.
He walks quickly over to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was thirteen years old after experiencing girls for the first time again. Was it wrong to rub himself off in the middle of a tennis match when all he was looking at was the girl who played his favourite sport better than anyone he had ever seen, dominating the game with her anger and intensity like she was a complete animal?
He couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind and his cock seemed to ache the more he thought about how beautiful she was on the court, completely in her element, anger and passion emitting from her. Every grunt and groan she made as she hit the ball with so much fervor had his head spiralling.
He looked down and tried to will it away, he needed to get back out there to see her win the game. He thought of every disturbing thing he could possibly think of and even took out his phone to google the quickest way to get rid of an erection.
The excited yells of the crowd told him someone had won and he prayed he would return and see Y/N with the medal around her neck.
After about ten minutes of taking deep breaths, he finally felt composed enough to leave his car. With a flustered face, he made his way back toward the court, silently praying for some kind of cosmic intervention to erase the embarrassing moment from his memory.
As he turned the corner, he spotted Mitch and Sarah engaged in conversation with Y/N, who was proudly wearing the gold medal around her neck. She had won - he knew she would.
Y/N's eyes lit up as she noticed him, a wide smile spreading across her face as she proudly displayed her medal. Unable to resist, he grinned back in response.
Sweat glistened on her skin, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and delicate strands of hair framed her face. At that moment, she radiated beauty, and he couldn't deny the sudden surge of emotions that had slowly been weaving themselves into the fabric of his feelings ever since he had returned to Crestwood.
If the past fifteen minutes were anything to go by, Harry knew this was more than just a game of tennis.
He was in trouble.
. . .
People cheered as Y/N entered Harry’s apartment with Sarah at her side, holding beer cans in the air and patting her on the shoulder as she sifted through the crowds of people. S&M by Rhianna played over the speakers as the apartment that was previously empty was now filled up with student’s from Crestwood.
“There she is,” Mitch’s voice yelled over the music, “Crestwood’s very own Serena Williams,”
“I wouldn’t go that far Mitch,” She chuckled, unable to stop herself from smiling so hard after the excitement of her first win.
Y/N’s eyes scanned the room as she went in search of the one person she wanted to see whilst everyone fell into conversation around her.
That’s when she saw him, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup in his hand. His hair was a tangled mess, and his body was adorned in a loose, white shirt, its u-neck revealing the inked pair of swallows beneath his collarbones and gold chain around his neck. On his legs, he wore a loose pair of black trousers.
Y/N held back a smile as she made her way over to him until she realised who he was talking to.
Her face fell as she saw the angelic blonde, tanned and glowing like she’d just come back from a holiday somewhere south of the equator.
Harry’s face lit up as Y/N approached until he realised what was going on.
“Hey,” He smiled, trying to distract her.
“Where were you?” Y/N snapped her gaze towards him.
“What do y’ mean? M right here,” He spoke, “You were incredible out there.”
“Who’s this?” Y/N ignored him, folding her arms and looking at the girl he was speaking to. Y/N knew exactly who she was but felt the need to act as though she had never seen her before.
Harry hesitated for a moment before introducing her. “Y/N, this is Astrid.”
Astrid flashed a dazzling smile at Y/N, her demeanour friendly yet confident. “Congratulations on the win today, Y/N. I’m looking forward to our match in the semifinals.”
Harry's reaction was immediate. “What?” he stammered, clearly taken aback.
“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, surprised. “Y/N and I will be facing off in the semifinals.”
Y/N grit her teeth and forced a smile, the two girls eyeing each other up and down as Harry’s eyes darted anxiously between them.
Now that Y/N was into the semi-finals her next opponent was Astrid Anderson, one of the best junior, female tennis players in the county.
Who just so happened to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend.
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Isabell and the Lads CH 2: The Healing Process (2.6)
Masterpost
Wordcount: ~1.7k
First Part | Last Part | Next Part (eventually)
---
A rhythmic tapping rouses her from her sleep.
Her eyes peel open to find a familiar darkness surrounding her. She could almost convince herself she is back home and that she isn’t living out her biggest nightmare. Almost.
“Isabell?” Zeke’s voice, though gentle, shatters the dream of her being back in the walls, where she belongs. “Are you up?”
“Yeah, I’m up,” she calls out groggily. She must have been in a pretty deep sleep if his footsteps didn’t wake her up before he got to her, she doesn't like the thought of a human being able to sneak up on her.
Isabell sighs, raising her arms in an attempt to stretch, and she’s met with aching ribs and sharply protesting limbs. So that’s how it’s gonna be. As gently as possible, she maneuvers herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She has to pause here, the pain in her body has officially caught up with her. She thought there was a chance she could sleep all of this off, but as it stands right now, everything just feels worse. She takes another breath, deep enough for her ribs to flare their complaints. She’s been awake for maybe thirty seconds and she already wants to cry.
Instead, she grits her teeth and stands out of the bed, testing her leg. She doesn’t need to put much weight on it to know that it is not happy. She’ll need to stay off of it as much as possible if she ever wants a chance to get out of here.
Her shelf is still nice and dim, with only a bit of light slipping in around the edges of the curtain. So, the main lights must be on out there. Turning her attention to the curtain wall, she can see Zeke’s monolithic shadow in front of her.
“I’m coming,” she says, hoping he’ll just wait for her. She doesn’t want to see his massive fingers pull back the barrier separating them.
She’s trying not to think about it, but all of this is truly only the illusion of safety. At any point the human could decide that he’s tired of waiting, that he’s tired of her. Every single moment she’s putting so much trust in him. Trust that he’ll be patient, trust that he’ll be kind, trust that he’ll be gentle. It’s trust that she simply does not have, but she has no choice.
She hobbles her way out to the open part of the shelf, clinging to the wall as much as possible in an attempt to avoid putting too much weight on her leg. She’s really going to have to do something about that.
She blinks, her eyes adjusting to the full light of the room. Her breathing catches, seeing Zeke’s massive form kneeling in front of her, his eyes trained on her. Even though she’s been interacting with these humans, seeing them, especially for the first time again, sparks an intrinsic fear inside of her.
Don’t get caught. You’ve already been caught. They can see you. Run. Hide. Escape.
She shoves the thoughts aside. This is her situation. She can’t fix it right now. The humans are helping her.
The rational thought quells her fear meager amounts at best.
“Good morning,” Zeke says, his eyes scanning over her. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’ve been better,” she says, leaning heavily against the wall. “Um, thank you, by the way. For… setting this up for me.” She gestures over to her ‘room’ behind the curtains.
“Of course. I’m glad we could find something that worked for you,” Zeke responds with a small smile gracing his features. “I was going to make some breakfast. Do you want to come out to the living room?”
Does she want to? Does she want to willingly put herself in the palm of his hand? No. Not really. Does she agree anyway, of course. That’s what the human wants, right? At this point, it’s more dangerous to disappoint him.
She nods numbly, and Zeke’s hand rests on the shelf in front of her. She feels as though she’s watching her own actions from behind her eyes, as if she were instead watching a screen. The only way her mind can rationalize a willing interaction with this human is to just disconnect herself completely.
Sure, the humans have been nice so far. But every single moment she spends with them she has to fight every one of her instincts. Her brain’s wiring just won’t stop telling her that she’s in extreme danger. Don’t get caught, don’t get caught don’t get- she’s already been caught. She needs to play by a different set of rules now. But it’s been a lifetime of fear, well deserved fear. One or two reasonable conversations with a human isn’t going to magically undo all of that.
She takes a hesitant step forward, still pushing against the wall of the shelf for support, when the hand in front of her shifts. You were taking to long. He’s run out of patience. She jolts, expecting the hand to lurch forward and snatch her up in an unforgiving fist. Instead, the massive fingers curl in on themselves, and the hand moves in the opposite direction. She looks up, finally connecting the hand to the human, and meeting Zeke’s gaze curiously.
“Sorry. I just- You know that you can say no to me, right?” His brow furrows, his green eyes taking her in. When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “I don’t want you to say yes just because you feel like you can’t say no. That isn’t… that’s not consent. I mean,” he looks away, searching elsewhere for the right words to say, “yeah, before neither of us had much of a choice about anything. It was an emergency situation, and I’m really sorry about all of that. But now you have your own space here and- I’m rambling,” he shakes his head, looking back to her, “I don’t want you to say yes to me just because that’s what you think I want. And I really don’t want you to say yes to me because you’re afraid to say no. That’s… that makes me,” he hesitates, “that makes me feel really gross,” he admits, shaking his head once more.
She hadn't considered his feelings in all of this.
Her being afraid of him makes him feel... gross? How is that even possible. She'd always been under the impression that humans relished in the fear they caused. It never occurred to her that he might be just as uncomfortable interacting with her as she is with him.
Is it possible that she's been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she's completely missed the nuance of emotions from this impossibly large being? It is just easier for her to write off everything from them as fearmongering and manipulation so she doesn't have to consider that they aren't really all that different after all?
But still, this fear that is so deeply interwoven into her being. She's had horrific run-ins with humans. She's seen their cruelty, the inflated ego of having something smaller than them that they can dominate. She's never seen a human like Zeke. Kneeling down on her level, going out of his way to help her feel comfortable, telling her how he feels? This doesn't fit in the box of humans are scary and irrational beings that she has sequestered in her mind. This simply makes no sense to her.
Even if, and it's a big if, she were to take this human at face value, and she were to let herself trust him, it's not like she can just turn her fear off with the flick of a switch. Maybe she doesn't want to be afraid anymore. But can she really turn her back on the one thing that has kept her alive all this time?
She stays hidden because she's afraid of getting caught.
She goes out borrowing because she's afraid of starving to death.
Everything she's needed to do in life, she's done because of fear. Every choice she's made has been based on what outcome she's more or less afraid of.
Now to just say, 'no, fear, I don't need you anymore.' It feels impossible.
She feels herself slipping into a circle of thought. Be afraid, but don't be afraid, but you should be afraid, but you shouldn't be afraid, but you've always been afraid, but you don't have to be afraid anymore.
She will have to try to unpack this later.
Zeke continues, “you can say no, you can obviously also say yes. It’s- I mean, that’s why I’m asking. I want to know what you want. Okay? Do you want to go out to the living room, or would you rather stay here. It’s up to you.”
She looks up at him cautiously. What does she want? She tries to do the mental gymnastics required to figure out what he wants her to want. This has to be some kind of trick, right? What does she want? A human shouldn’t be concerned about that. She fits in the palm of his hand, and he cares about what she wants? Here she is again, trying to fit Zeke into a box of what she understands humans to be, and failing miserably.
“Um, I want… um, N-no. No, I’d actually like to stay… here,” she feels as wound up as a spring, her shoulders tense rigidly. I just told a human no. She looks up at him wide-eyed, terrified she’s made the wrong choice.
Zeke just nods indifferently. It doesn’t seem like he’s upset or disappointed at all. If anything it looks like he relaxes a little bit. “Alright,” he says standing. “I’ll bring you some breakfast soon, okay?”
“Pancakes?” She asks, remembering the warm fluffy clouds he made for her yesterday.
“Yeah, I can make that happen,” he responds. She can’t see his face, but he sounds amused. He could even be smiling, a rarity from him.
With that, his footsteps retreat off into the main part of the apartment. She takes this time to drag herself back into her room. Zeke had been kind enough to put a little electric candle in the middle of the room for her. She flips the switch and the warm light flickers gently in the space. Off to the side, he had left her a bundle of craft supplies. By the time he comes back with pancakes for her, she’s crafted herself a crutch. So, even though she’s still hobbling around, she’s at least doing it with some proficiency now.
#g/t#g/t writing#g/t stories#my writing#isabell and the lads#i know yall probably want me to update literally any other story but this is where the ideas are right now#featured: zeke saying consent is key#and isabell fighting with her fears#hopefully the pay off for all this slow burn stuff will be worth it lmao
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Death At The Hands Of A God
Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst
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It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.
That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.
Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.
He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.
Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.
He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.
He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.
Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.
He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.
Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...
He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.
He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.
Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.
You had said his name.
Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.
It hit your throat.
Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.
There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.
What had he done.
Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.
"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.
You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—
No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...
Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.
He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.
The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.
Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.
There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.
It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.
You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.
He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.
But first...
It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.
Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.
His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.
#genshin impact#sagau#genshin venti#sagau impostor au#genshin angst#my attempt at imposter au cause why not#I didn't realize there was like no dialogue until editing whoops#kind of set up so that I can do a part 2 where you come back and we get that fun dynamic#don't know if i will tho#also hi#it's been a minute#how you guys doing#school sucks that's how I'm doing#despite that I'll probably be posting another oneshot tomorrow#not as sad thankfully#anyway yeah this was more just a self challenge to see if i could do imposter au without breaking the characterization I've got going rn#luckily he's just so full of trama that i can make constant references to that to help tie things together#anyway lantern rite how we feeling
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UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.
1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.
2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.
So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.
Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.
He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.
Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.
Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.
I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.
He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.
I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.
OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.
Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world
PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox
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❝ PERSONAL STREAM (A Little Too Personal..) ❞
word count: 1.9k
warnings: subbot! cis male reader, domtop! cis male kamo choso, camboy! choso, slight dumbification?, praise kink, reader referred to as a size queen (term is used for a man), mention of edging (choso), mentions/descriptions of manhandling
prompt: congratulations! you just won a solo fan call with your favorite camboy! hope you have fun watching him getting off to you being just the goodest boy ever :)
notes: a gift for and and idea from @sooniebby I jus made it into a choso fic. I've been holding it off for a while now, I think. this isn't as good as had wanted it to be but it's fine regardless. not beta read, sorry not sorry
fem aligned dni
you can’t believe it.
you actually can’t believe what you’re reading right now.
in your email inbox, something you barely ever check unless needed to, had a message from the user of a porn website (not your proudest moment) that you signed up on just to watch his videos, telling you that you won this month’s drawing. you had to stand up, walk around, eat breakfast, and come back to your computer to see if it was still there. if it was still real. you swore you’ve never felt so excited yet so scared in your life.
to know that, somehow, you won that solo fan call, to know that he’ll be jerking off for you, to know that no one else can see him but you, talking to you, and- shit. you were getting hard. you looked back at your computer screen. the email is still there. you’re not crazy. you feel like you are though.
the roll of the cheap gaming chair you bought from amazon sounded muffled in your ears as you backed away from your computer, getting up to get ready for the day with that email still lingering like an itch on your scalp that you can’t seem to satisfy. you need to get to work.
your co-workers noticed the blank stare in your eyes as you slipped on your chef coat and pants, hands on autopilot as you tucked hair into your hat and tied the apron around your waist. it smelled of fresh detergent since they just washed your uniform. your friend had to even point out that you cut your finger when dicing onions because you were too out of it to even notice. or was it that working in the food industry made your fingers numb to the sensation since it happens so many times? ... huh.
when you got back home, you opened up the email again. it’s still there. it’s still real. did you want it to be fake? part of you says yes but the majority of you hoped not. i mean, you’ve been following this guy for.. what, months now? lord knows how much money you’ve sent to him. he wants to start the call at 7pm on discord.
you thought he might use something else other than that app but he was probably just using an alternative account and he most likely changes his user after every raffle. if you were him, you would do the same thing.
...
you should probably take a shower.
it was 6:40 and your hair was still damp with water, towel resting on your shoulders to catch any stray droplets from getting your shirt wet. you kind of wanted to back out. the fear of being one to one with the camboy you’ve been fantasizing about for a long while now was scaring you a bit.
fingers fidgeting with the paper stars littering your desk and your foot rapidly tapping against the floor, you watched the seconds go by on your desktop. your dominant hand reaches for your mouse and highlights his username to copy it and paste it onto the add user section, sending the friend request to see that he accepts it not even 2 minutes later. ...was he getting ready?
your webcam was sitting on your desk, not properly hooked onto the top of your computer. it was plugged in but you hardly ever use it so it just sits where it is. should you set it up? ..no, you didn’t feel like it. your mic was completely ready though, as always. you and your friends would always play together on call, so it was your most used piece of equipment.
4 minutes.
your stomach twisted in anxiety.
choso sighed as he applied lotion all over his torso, all too used to the way he prepared everything during streams and bonus videos locked behind an even bigger paywall. this sidegig he was doing felt like a chore sometimes but money was money, and by god did this account make him a lot of it.
lots of women flocked to his account, entranced by the way his voice stuttered whenever he close, his hips that instinctively jerked because his hand wasn’t able to move any faster, and the whimpers that teared into the mic when he came all over his hands and milked himself for all that he’s worth. they mostly talked about how perfect his dick looked but that was an average comment in his chat.
he saw the friend request notification pop up on his computer and figured he’d at least get his cock hard before the call even started. he put on some random porno in the background, stroking himself with little care and when he got half-hard, he figured that would’ve been enough. he accepted the friend request and close the tab with the video playing, looking over to see that he had 4 minutes until he would start the call.
fingers moving expertisley across the keyboard, he made sure to tell you that the first 30 minutes of this session was free, any longer and you would have to start paying up. you replied with a very short, “got it.” and left it at that. you seemed to type out something more before it quickly went away, causing choso to raise an eyebrow. were you scared?
35 seconds.
choso was getting tired of waiting, so he began the call. unbeknownst to him, you freaked out when you heard the ringtone rumble through your speakers, hesitating to accept the call. in the end, you did anyway because you didn’t have to pay for this private session for 30 whole minutes.
the half-curse’s hand went back to his dick, stroking it with barely any passion behind his movements. however, he wasn’t expecting to see the face of the winner from the drawing within 5 minutes of the call, teeth biting into his fist as his other hand’s fingers worked himself open. choso swore he was no longer half-hard, dick twitching to life in his hands, pre already leaking from the tip of his cock.
he was used to mostly knowing that women were behind the screen and heavily suspected that you might’ve been one- but fuck, to know that another man was getting off to his voice, his cock, drove him wild.
maybe he’ll get rid of that 30 minute rule.
you didn’t mean to turn your webcam on.
you could feel your stomach sink when you could see yourself on full display for the camboy in the discord call. it was too late to turn it off now. whatever. you only live once.
“aren’t you just the cutest?” you aren’t sure why you flinched but the way his voice carried those words certainly got you feeling things, “how about you turn your mic on too, yeah? wanna hear your pretty voice.”
shakily, the hand you were biting on reaches for your mouse and you click unmute. your fingers that were inside you accidentally pressed against your prostate, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. you don’t want to get a noise complaint from the neighbors... again. the first time having to explain that to an officer was embarrassing enough.
“good boy,” he grunts into the mic, bucking his hips up with a loud smack coming from his end of the call, “jus’ the sweetest little thing, aren’t ya? betcha’d be just absolutely adorable if i were to fuck you stupid. it hasn’t even been 15 minutes and you’re drooling all over your pretty fingers.”
you didn’t even notice that you’ve been panting so much that spit began to run down your chin, too absorbed in the way the camboy’s dick spilled even more pre over his massive hands. fuck, just how strong could he be? could he manhandle you? yank your head back using your hair as a handle while blowing your back out? shove you down on his cock because you simply weren’t riding him fast enough?
“you got a dildo on you, baby?” he asks you, his hand slowing down to a stop. his words pulled you out of your abundance of fantasies to shift your focus back into reality, vision a little blurry from the tears resting on your eyelids.
you managed to fumble out a small, “mhmm..” just loud enough for him to hear and he tells you to grab it. in a slight daze, you reach into one of your many desk drawers to pull out the toy that sat in its box, already cleaned from its prior use.
“do a favor for me, yeah? put it in nice and slow, imagine it’s my cock stuffing you full. how big ‘s your toy? five- six inches?” he sure likes to ask a lot of stuff, you notice.
“‘s seven..” you mutter, wincing when you push the toy inside your hole, stretching you full and your mind goes numb.
he chuckles, deep and breathy and shit- “so you’re a size queen? that’s what they call it, right?” he starts pumping his fist around his cock again, albeit slower than before. you would take a bet that he was edging himself, “that’s it. such a good boy f’me.”
legs quaking in place, you managed to get it all inside you. sitting on it was much harder on your chair than you anticipated, the current position you were holding getting uncomfortable. cautiously, you lifted your hips, wrapping your hand around your own dick and giving it a few strokes while breathy moans left your lips, slamming yourself back down on the dildo. your eyes widened in surprise as the tip of it pressed against your prostate, a loud whimper echoing throughout your room.
“fuck-! you’re so cute, mmph- k-keep going, baby. i’m getting close- ah!” you could see that his hand was moving much faster than when you last looked up at your camera, quick breaths and filthy pleas paired with the desperate thrusts of his hips.
stumbled cries left your lips when you began to keep up with his pace, fingers getting sticky with pre as you continue to stimulate yourself. through blurred tears, you could see his hips rut one last time before a stifled moan left his throat and his fist was coated with his cum, dripping onto his pants.
he winces at the overstimulation from just shifting his hand to let go of his softening cock, grabbing a tissue to clean himself up while watching you bounce up and down your toy. you could even say he was jealous. even so, he could tell you were pathetically chasing your own orgasm, breathy sighs escaping from the confines of your lips. eyes closed in slight shame yet concentration, your thumb came up to the tip of your dick and rubbed, causing a yelp to slip through and your eyes opened once more.
however, you weren’t expecting to see the gorgeous face behind the creator of all those inappropriate streams you’ve watched the second your hips slammed back down on the dildo.
“[name]..”
ropes of your own release spilling out of your dick, it finally registered in your head that the camboy was willingly letting you see this. your thighs quaked not only in nervousness but also in fear that you might get a boner again just from how handsome he was. his face was pale although dusted with a bright hue of red covering his cheeks, eyebags signaling a lack of sleep, he had some sort of black line going over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, and slightly messy black hair tied up into short ponytails. if he wasn't attractive to anyone, he was at least attractive to you.
his pretty and slightly plump lips opened to speak once more, “do you.. wanna meet up in person..?”
“h-huh...?”
#x bottom male reader#bottom male reader#male reader#x male reader#sub male reader#dom male character#top male character#jjk x reader#jjk x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#choso x reader#choso x male reader#jjk choso x reader#jjk choso x male reader#gay#mlm#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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You need more free art.
I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.
You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.
We all need more free art.
So what am I going to do about it?
This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.
I'm going to do this:
1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.
This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.
Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.
2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.
Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.
Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.
I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.
2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY
To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.
On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.
You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.
3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS
Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).
The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.
4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE
I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.
tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!
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If It All Fell (2)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)
a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.
Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾
Series Masterlist
~~
Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning?
Was it significant?
From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud.
You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed.
Did they move it for a reason?
Did they think you wouldn’t notice?
Was this even your bedroom?
You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls.
So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing.
And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be.
You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet.
The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click.
“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?”
Do you remember?
It was unintentionally cruel.
You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar.
Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation.
Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode.
Maybe you were going to explode.
It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you.
“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?”
Do you remember that?
You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull.
Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.”
There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door.
They would pace one way, and then the other.
“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.”
“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.”
The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.”
A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you.
They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor.
You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of.
“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.”
She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top.
A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it.
More tears left your throat feeling thick.
“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know.
“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.”
You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?”
Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.”
~~
You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor.
The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.
“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily.
The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job.
You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that.
“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again.
She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others.
Which was why you had suggested a lunch.
You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion.
You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years.
But you didn’t know them, not really.
And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence.
“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door.
“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable.
Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes.
Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—”
“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.”
As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.”
Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet.
“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles.
“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.”
“To not overwhelm me.”
“Precisely.”
Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?”
Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?”
“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?”
“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.”
“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke.
Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.”
You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone?
It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her.
That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.
Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings.
Azriel.
He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained.
Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head.
A throat cleared.
You snapped your head up.
“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”
“I do,” you softly interrupted.
Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”
“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.”
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.”
“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.”
You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from.
You should say something.
Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family.
Were they still your family?
You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.
There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help.
What if you were stuck like this?
What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—
“That dish is your favorite.”
Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target.
“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained.
You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him.
“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”
“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.”
You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study.
Did they shove them back there on purpose?
“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.”
Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered.
He took a bite of salad.
“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.”
The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own.
“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.”
You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.
“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.”
Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”
Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness.
But Azriel.
Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went.
He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one.
“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak.
At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.”
And then he was gone.
Part 3 ☾
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel angst#acotar
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)
In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.
Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
"Damn it!"
The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.
"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."
You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.
"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"
"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"
"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows.
"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.
"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.
"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette.
You swallow.
Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves.
"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago.
"No."
That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.
Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.
Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?
You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess.
Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick.
"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."
"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"
You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture.
"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"
"H-huh? What for?"
You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity.
"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."
You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.
"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.
"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"
"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly.
The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery.
The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.
Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details.
"Wakasugi has been taken."
A chaotic murmur ensues.
"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."
Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh.
If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family.
"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching.
"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds.
"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.
"What did you say?"
Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.
"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."
"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.
There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.
"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job."
He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.
"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.
"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."
The tall yakuza smirks mockingly.
"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."
Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.
"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him.
Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.
"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.
"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."
No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.
He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats.
He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects.
"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.
If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.
"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."
The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes."
Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already.
The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant.
"Where's everyone?"
"They ran away."
"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.
"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."
He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.
"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.
"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"
"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."
He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.
"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"
Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's.
"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"
"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out.
But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin.
You grimace a little at the mental image.
The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.
You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips.
"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.
"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."
He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.
"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.
So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.
"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."
"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.
Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie
(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)
#female reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#male yandere x reader#yandere yakuza#yakuza x reader#yandere fic#yandere imagines#yandere imagine#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere mafia#mafia x reader#original work#original character#yandere boyfriend
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can we see more of dad ghost ♥︎ im obsessedLMAO
“soft around the edges”
aka when ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team
(a little part 2 to this fic. part 3 here.)
Soap doesn't share the Lieutenant's secret with the rest of the force.
Things go back to normal after that brief, bizarre encounter with you. When their break is over, Ghost carries on the typical dry humor and sharp orders, pretending that Soap never had dinner at his cozy home and met his pregnant wife.
Though, MacTavish does notice little differences in his stoic superior turned new dad. Ghost is shockingly, and ever-so-slightly, nicer. His language is still foul. But he's a little less rough around the edges: compliments Soap a bit more, tells him to shut the fuck up a little bit less.
It's not something that any of the others notice, of course, which is why they are all so baffled when they finally do figure out about Ghost's secret family.
It's two years later when they are disbanding at a base in the UK that you accidentally reveal yourself.
It's truly an accident.
Whenever you pick him up from the military base, Simon instructs you to wait outside. Says he doesn't want to put you at any risk. But you have a knack for not listening to him. You missed him so much during the past four months, and the two-year-old in your arms was old enough to start asking where his dad was, so you figured you could wait for him inside this time, hidden away in a corner.
Your plan might have worked if it weren't for the swell of your belly making it difficult for you to hold the squirming toddler.
He recognizes his dad even with the skull mask on.
Immediately starts to yelp for him, kicking his little feet around, and giving you no choice but to set the toddler down for a second. But your son is growing so much, and he's got his father's determination.
It's definitely riveting for Soap and the team to witness the whole thing unfold.
At first sight, the waddling two-year-old boy doesn't faze them. There were usually family members and little ones waiting at the gate. Gaz and Price are saying their goodbyes when they both notice that the toddler running around is coming in their direction. Or more specifically, in Ghost's direction.
Soap knows right away what's happening.
Watches with raised brows.
For the rest of the team, this is the first time they witness Ghost's demeanor shift to something so soft and peculiar. His mannerisms give everything away before the kid even reaches him: a typically-unfazed Ghost looks around frantically, probably wondering how the hell his son even got here, until he spots you waddling sheepishly after him.
Oh, fuckin' hell.
You give your husband an apologetic look that says I'm sorry and help me at the same time.
“Can’t believe what I’m seeing," Gaz mutters, watching as Ghost bends down to pick up the small child.
Tell me 'bout it, Soap wants to say. But he's already gone through the initial disbelief two years ago, so now, he simply watches with knowing eyes.
He can't say he didn't spend some time the past two years wondering what kind of parents you and Ghost had become. He knew bits and pieces of his past and hesitantly wondered if Ghost had carried on that behavior.
But now he witnesses the Lieutenant scoop the toddler in his arms, making him look so small against his broad chest. “I��ve got ya, kid.” And he is tucking the boy's head underneath his chin and pressing his masked nose to the top of his hair.
Then, the toddler reaches a small hand to his mask and pats it, perhaps harder than he realizes, but Ghost simply shakes his head and patiently wraps his much larger hand around the curious little one’s.
Ghost is soft and gentle and anything but angry, even though you worried that he might have been.
Everything seems to sink in for the team when they see you finally reach your husband. Your mouth moving to rush out apologies:
"I'm sorry, Simon, I know you said to wait outside. We just really wanted to see you and I tried to hold him and-"
And Ghost might have been frustrated on another day. But on this day, he’s just relieved to see you again. It's apparent to all of the eyes watching that this brooding man, with his deadpan eyes and a trademark mask, is utterly and unabashedly in love with you and the little family you have gifted him. Finally able to fully relax as he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles your neck, something you could never imagine him doing in public like this a few years ago.
“S’okay, love,” he tells you. “Can’t be mad, can I? Not when I get to see you two.”
You’re carrying his second child and he hasn't seen you in months and he simply doesn't give a fuck at the moment.
To his team watching, the Lieutenant seems like another person.
They're watching Simon, not Ghost.
"That's his girl, then?" Alejandro finally asks, as they have been frozen in place. Watching in curiosity and bewilderment.
“Wife seems like,” Gaz says. Shooting Soap a curious look, he adds, “Did you know anything about this?”
“Hell,” Soap shrugs to feign innocence. “Didn’t know a thing-“
But, of course, you’re soon waving over at him and smiling before your husband can stop you. “Hi, Johnny!”
Guilty and caught, Soap offers a small wave in return before shaking his head. “Christ, alright. May have ran into them awhile back.”
“And you didn’t tell us, MacTavish?” Gaz scoffs.
“Not my secret to tell,” Soap shrugs again and watches as Ghost caresses your pregnant stomach. He leans down to whisper something in your ear and you smile coyly at him, planting a little kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. Ghost is somehow able to hold you and your son firmly against his chest and still have more room. Must be what had the two of you realizing that a fourth family member was needed.
Soap hears the snide remarks as your family leaves and is out of earshot.
Looks like Ghost keeps himself busy on leave.
You think he helps with the diapers?
The kid’s even got his eyes.
Reckon he takes the mask off during sex?
Finally, Soap groans out, “Haud yer wheesht. That’s enough.”
“Sergeant’s right,” Price, whose own surprise has faded into something more stern, quiets the members of the team who are still lingering. “That’s your superior you’re gosspin’ about. Show some respect and bugger off.”
But once the Captain is gone, Soap allows himself this one quip (because, he’d been so good at not sharing what he’d seen for two years).
It’s a quiet one that he mentions only to Kyle.
“He takes her shopping an’ carries all the bags. Saw it myself.”
#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod#call of duty#fanfiction#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghost#fluff#simon ghost riley x reader#fem!reader#dad ghost
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Hi mae! I love eveything you write!! Kind of in a similar vein to doctor!remus i wanted to request poly!marauders where they are emt’s and they respond to a call where reader is injured and when they arrive to help reader is just super flustered and shy because there are three very sweet and attractive and charming men she doesn’t know taking care of her
Thanks lovely!
part 1 | part 2
Cw: car accident aftermath, concussion, blood, and definitely some smutty implications but nothing that would fluster your grandmother, also maybe don’t read if medical inaccuracies will piss you off because I can almost guarantee this is riddled with them (I am but a girl)
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words
Someone else must have called emergency services, because the first thing you hear is sirens. Your car is smoky—that can’t be safe, can it?—and you ache, and the shaking of your hands makes them frustratingly inefficient at undoing the buckle of your seatbelt.
The sirens get louder and then stop. The ruckus you can hear but not see outside of your smashed windshield increases, and there’s a warm wetness on your face, getting in your eyes. You reach up to swipe at it. The door next to you opens.
“Hi.” A curly mop of hair attached to a smiling face pops in your driver’s door. “How we doing?”
You inhale shakily. “All right.”
His grin goes lopsided, brown eyes skimming over your form. “Well, at least you’ve got a good attitude. We’re gonna get you out of here in just a second, but first can you tell me what’s hurting you?”
You blink. Things seem to be moving oddly slowly. Every inch of you trembles. “Is my car going to blow up?”
The paramedic’s eyebrows raise. You hear something on your opposite side but can’t be bothered to look. “We don’t think so. Are you asking because of the powder?”
He must mean the smoky stuff swirling about your car. You try to nod, but it hurts, and the man puts a gloved hand to your neck to stop you.
“No no, don’t move,” he cautions.
“That’s just powder from the airbags,” a voice on your other side says, and the paramedic makes a small sound of protest when you turn your head to find it. There’s another one leaning in the open door on your passenger side. He’s got fluffy brown hair lighter than the first’s and a large scar on one side of his face which stretches as his eyebrows bunch. “Can you tell us what hurts, please?”
“My head,” you answer, bringing a quivering hand to your breastbone. “A—and my chest.”
“No pain in your neck or back?” The first, darker paramedic asks, and when you confirm he nods approvingly. “Well, some of that might come later, but that’s good enough for now. All right, sweetheart, do you think you can stand?”
“Yeah,” you say, sounding uncertain even to your own ears. He grasps your forearm in one hand while wrapping another around your back, helping you out of your seat.
As soon as you’re through the door there’s another set of gloved hands on your opposite arm. You look up to see a third man, slighter than the others, helping the first carry you a short distance to a gurney.
And daylight is something else. Your head and chest hurt worse than before, but it doesn’t help that you very nearly stop breathing when you take in the sight of the three paramedics who have surrounded you.
“Can you tell us what you remember from the accident?” The second one, the one who’d come through your passenger door—you can see in the sunlight that he has more scars than just the one, though he’s no less beautiful for it—asks. There’s a gentleness to the set of his brows as he frowns at you, pressing something to your forehead.
A policeman makes to approach you, and the curly-headed one turns, taking on a sternness that doesn’t suit him as he wards the other man off with a hand and a few quiet words.
“Hey.” The scarred paramedic brings your attention back to him. “Do you know what happened?”
“I…” Fuck, you can’t tell if you’re woozy from whatever’s happening with your head or just the attention from the three of them. They’re moving you, other people and cars passing in your periphery as they wheel the gurney towards an ambulance. “I wrecked my car?”
The third paramedic laughs, the sound sharp and crisp despite the general fuzziness surrounding you. He’s got longish, inky black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “It’s not a trick question, dollface. And the state of your car isn’t really what we’re worried about right now.”
“Sirius,” the scarred one chides. You think distantly that Sirius is an odd name. Unique and pretty-sounding. “Do you remember if you fell asleep, love?”
You want to shrink away from his attentive stare, but his hand on your forehead holds you in place. “I’m not sure,” you say. “Was there—are the people in the other car okay?”
“Pretty sure she was just waking up when I got to her,” the first paramedic says, curls bouncing slightly as he stations himself by your feet and helps lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance. “Yeah, sweetheart, everyone else is alright. Might be a bit sore tomorrow, but signing refusals of treatment as we speak. Do you feel sick?”
Actually, maybe it’s the speed of the conversation that’s making you woozy. “No?”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he jokes. “That’s okay, just let us know if you do.” He flashes you another dazzling smile.
You think you might return it, but then light hits your eyes and you wince instead.
“You’re okay,” the dark haired one—Sirius, you remember—reassures you. “I’m just going to shine this in your eyes really quickly. Try to keep them open for me?”
You do your best, and he works swiftly as promised, flashing the bright white beam into one eye and then the other before clicking it off with a gentle pat to your knee.
“Definitely concussed,” he says to the other two. Excellent.
“Okay, I’m just going to close this up for now,” the scarred one explains, voice low and soothing as he removes whatever he’s been holding to your head. “It looks like you’ll need stitches, but I need to stop the bleeding until we can get those done, yeah? It might feel like little pinches.”
“Okay,” you say, voice embarrassingly shaky from the tender way he’s holding your head in his hands. “Thank you.”
He smiles. The effect is dizzying, scars pulling taut as the severity melts from his features. “You’re welcome, lovely,” he says softly. “How’d this happen, then? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?”
You try to remember. “I guess so. I’m…not sure.”
“That’s okay,” Sirius promises you. “James, can you check out that chest pain while I get a pulse?”
The first one, who hasn’t seemed to stop smiling despite what you consider a fairly grim circumstance—though you imagine it might be run-of-the-mill in his line of work—steps to your side. The three of them move around each other so fluidly, like they can anticipate the other’s movements. Practice, you suppose. “All right, darling,” he says, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a self-assuredness you can’t relate to, and your face warms in response, “do you mind if I move your top down a bit so I can have a look?”
You feel suddenly lightheaded. You try to nod, but the scarred one tsks at you, holding your head still with lithe fingers as he works on your cut. Thankfully, James seems to catch your meaning anyway. He’s exceedingly gentle as he wraps his fingers around the neckline of your top, pulling it into a V in the center of your chest. You follow it down with your gaze. The red line that stretches diagonally across the flat of your chest feels somewhat anticlimactic considering the deep ache that emanates from it, but James hisses sympathetically.
“Ow,” Sirius agrees. “Yeah, looks like the seatbelt got you.”
You try very, very hard not to think about how they’re all looking at your naked chest, all speaking to you so kindly, all touching you in their different ways. If you think too hard about any of it, you might actually die.
“Tell me if this hurts, alright?” James looks at you before pressing down lightly with his palm.
You start to gasp from the pain but then that hurts even worse, and your face scrunches in agony.
“Sorry, sorry.” He removes his hand hastily, putting your top back in place. “All done with that, love. It hurts when you breathe in, huh?”
“Yeah,” you affirm croakily.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says again, touching your shoulder with an apologetic smile. You’d never been mad, but you go ahead and forgive him anyway for looking at you so sweetly. “I’m going to feel if your ribs are broken, okay? I won’t push down again.”
You don’t have the breath to give an assent and he doesn’t wait for one, slipping a large palm under your shirt—what you wouldn’t give to have that happen under different circumstances—and feeling about your sides tenderly.
The scarred paramedic’s touch lifts from your forehead. “Okay, that’s all set. Let’s get you out of here, hm?”
“You driving, Rem?” Sirius asks, and you notice he’s finished taking your pulse but hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist soothingly.
“Mhm,” the scarred one—Rem—replies, putting away some supplies. “Did you confirm she’s in shock?”
“Yup.”
“Start an IV,” Rem instructs, and Sirius scoffs like yeah, I know and waves him off. You almost laugh at the easy familiarity of it.
“Why do you think I’m in shock?” you ask as Rem hops out the back, presumably going to the driver’s side.
Sirius softens. “Your pulse is a riot, pretty girl. Plus, you’re shaking like a leaf and you’ve gone a tiny bit blue” —he taps your lips with his forefinger— “right here.”
You could pass out now. That’d be alright with you.
James straightens, having already run his fingers probingly over both your sides. “Alright, we might have a couple of small fractures, but nothing too dire. Can I see your arm, love?”
You give it to him unthinkingly, but tense when he starts feeling about the soft crook of your elbow with overly kind fingers. You’d think the effect of his touch would have diminished after he’d finished feeling you up underneath your shirt, but evidently not.
“You’re okay.” Sirius mistakes your shyness for nervousness about the IV, wrapping his fingers around your chin and turning you gently to face him. His cupid bow flattens when he gives you a small smile and a shorter piece of his dark hair has slipped free of its confines, brushing his cheekbone. “You’re okay, doll. Jamie’s a pro, yeah? Just keep your eyes on me.”
Well, if he’s gonna insist.
#poly!marauders#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the marauders#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction
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And they were roomates
(Captain John price x F!reader)
Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: angsty (very minimal), smut, jealousy, possesiveness?
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8!!!!!
------------
When you get to the restaurant he has a large hand resting on your lower back. This spot is in the most crowded part of the city, meaning the ride was a bit over half an hour. He opens the door for you, stepping aside to let you in first. You sigh at the heat that radiates from inside as you step onto the hardwood floor of the very extravagant restaurant.
“John, I don't think I’m dressed for this kind of place.” You should’ve asked where you were going, god why didn’t you ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks confused, he looks down at you noticing the way you slightly sink into his side.
“I mean I’m underdressed for this place.” You whisper up to him, he looks around then back to you not seeing the problem at all.
“I actually think you're overdressed.” He says winking at you, making you look away bashfully.
“John, I'm serious.” His eyes remain on you admiring the way your hair falls just above your collarbone, how you have your gorgeous legs on display for everyone to see. He simply doesn’t know what you’re on about.
“You look beautiful, cut it out.” He says softly kneading at the meat on your hip, you pass up the long line of walk in groups and wait for the hostess to return which she quickly does.
“Reservation for John.” He says in his usual deep tone. Every so often you swear he lightens it for you.
“Okay follow me.” She gives you both a wide smile and collects two menus.
John follows her and leads you through saying his ‘excuse me’s to the servers you pass by, keeping you tucked firmly to his side. Although it’s an intimate spot it’s also bustling with business inside. You realize this place is probably hard to get a reservation at as the walk in line piles up.
Once you’re sat and given menus she lets you both know your server will be with you shortly before leaving.
“Have you been here before?” You ask as he glances over the drink menu.
“I have actually, Laswell and her wife got engaged here.” He smiles and remembers the very eventful night. Him and some old friends had hidden in a booth so they could watch it all take place and ended up getting caught in the end.
“How long has she been married for?”
“Nearly a decade.” You sigh with a smile. You want that. You want that terribly.
“Hi, can I get drinks started for you guys?” The server asks, John orders himself a scotch as you decide on what you want.
“I’ll just get an iced tea.” You say before looking up. But when you do you’re surprised to see an old friend.
“Adam?” You say with an awfully wide smile.
“I knew that was you.” He says leaning in for a hug that you gladly reciprocate.
“I’m so happy to see you.” You exclaim, last you heard of him he was in America. You wonder when he got back to the UK and how long he’s been back for.
“Me too, it’s lovely to see you. Anyways I’ll be back with your drinks.” He leaves as quickly as he came, stopping by other tables to check in.
“How do you know him?” John asks, you notice his gruff voice has an interesting pitch to it.
“Childhood friends.” You reply.
“Ah has it been awhile?” He asks curiously.
“A long while, he moved to the states and now he’s back I guess.” You shrug not really knowing what else to say.
“interesting.” You notice the way his eyes slightly trail your old friend as he walks around.
“Okay, do you know what you're going to get?” You ask him to regain his attention.
“I think so, you?” You nod your head also looking over the menu once more before making your final decision.
“Here you guys go.” Adam says setting the drinks down at your table.
“Are you ready to order?”He asks, keeping his eyes firmly on you. You don’t notice it but your very watchful date does.
“No actually, could we have a couple more minutes?” John says, catching your attention as you give him a puzzled look.
“Yeah, take all the time you need, by the way I heard from your sister not too long ago she told me you and Brian broke up. I was shocked, truly we all thought you guys would get married .” He says turning back to you.
“Well they didn’t.” John says lowly beneath his breath. You and your old friend look at him for a second before you reply.
“Yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You reply a little awkwardly in remembrance of the breakup. Brian had also been a childhood friend and a highschool sweetheart.
“You were always too good for him.” you can't think of an appropriate way to answer that so there's a second of silence before he takes the hint. “ Okay then I’ll be back in a bit.”
“He’s flirting with you” John says once he walks away.
“You think?”
“You don’t.” He feels like he just watched the man’s pupils turn into hearts at the sight of you.
“Are you jealous?” you ask, trying to read his expression.
“Of the childhood friend, or possibly family friend that's flirting with you, no.” He feels like it’s childish but in the end he’s just a man.
“John.”
“Please doll, don’t.” You can't believe your eyes as you watch his jaw tick.
“Okay.” you try to suppress the smile that makes its way onto your lips. John has absolutely nothing to worry about but nonetheless is pent up.
He changes the topic and asks you about your next painting project, what you think it’ll be and where you think you’ll put it. You ask him about his own work, where did he meet his task force or rather how until Adam is back for your order.
You guys go back and forth on whether princess diana's death was an assassination or simply a horrible accident you say it was an assassination while he calls you crazy till your food is brought out to you.
There’s still light conversation between bites and sips. He’s not jealous, he tells himself, just bothered, bothered that you’ve known that man longer, how he knows your sister and had recently spoken to her, how he looks at you like you're more than friends.
When dinner finishes up you offer to pay out of kindness and he just laughs shaking his head. When the check comes and he reads it he notices how your items have been paid for and prays dearly to remain collected.
“Did they double charge you or something?” You are confused at the subtle scowl on his face.
“More like undercharged, do you see your friend anywhere?” He says looking around and you do also.
“No.”
“It looks like all your items are paid for.” He’s clearly upset and although you sort of understand why, you can’t completely understand.
“It’s probably just a nice gesture John.” Why did he have to do that?
“Doll I’m a man, I know what this means.” He sighs, jaw clenching.
“Okay but we’re old friends.” You say trying to calm him down but failing miserably.
“Oh you don’t say.” He says pressing his lips together.
“Let's just forget about it, come on.” You softly plead.
“I’m not leaving without paying for your meal.” And he means it. When your unfortunate friend comes back around to collect the check, John's talking before he can get a word in.
“I’m sorry but I’d like to pay for these items.” John says to him with a husky deeper, irritated tone.
“I thought I’d treat an old friend.” Adam says looking to you while John’s holding onto every inch of his patience.
“I’d like to treat my girl if you don’t mind.” Adam looks back to you for whatever reason but your eyes are stuck on John like you're in a trance.
“Okay sir I’ll um I’ll rerun this.” He says walking away. It’s awkward silence and he’s still breathing in an unnatural pattern. But my girl, my girl, my girl. Is all you could think about.
“Here you are sir.” He says handing back the check. John gives it a quick glance before placing his card inside and handing it back.
When he comes back around to give John his card back and a receipt for a signature you guys both get up to leave.
“It was nice seeing you, maybe we can hang out soon?” Adam says facing you.
“It was nice seeing you too.” John patiently waits for you to join him at his side.
“Maybe I can get your number?” The tone is one you’d only identify as flirtatious. You shut your eyes for a second realizing John was right but regardless of that he has nothing to be jealous about.
“I'm sorry if you hadn’t noticed but I'm actually here on a date and I think that would be a little inappropriate.” You say politely while walking away. Once you're next to John his hand is around your waist as he is now the one trying to suppress a smirk. You walk out into the cold air huffing as you tighten your hands around yourself.
When you get to the car John opens your door as he always does, waiting for you to sit before closing it. He gets in quietly turning the key in the ignition as the car hums to life, you look towards the window and out into the city, in another life you're definitely a city girl who sits at bars with friends and smokes cigarettes on fire escapes. As he’s driving he can’t help but notice the pout on your face. He fears he upset you in some way as your eyes stay on the road.
You can’t help but feel like he’s upset with you for not shutting it down sooner. His silence only leaves room for your mind to take over. This is the common dance between you two. He feels bad for how his jealous tendencies may have affected your first date and you feel guilty for letting this man openly make a pass on you infront of John.
“Doll.”
“Hmm.” You reply not looking towards him. You’ve entered the long highway that leads home. The city is now in the rearview mirror getting smaller and smaller. With his right hand he caresses your chin turning you to face him.
“What’s with this look?” He asks softly as his eyes bounce from you to the road. The hand that’s on your face makes its way to rest upon your upper thigh.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, I’m genuinely asking.” He says a little confused.
“I truly didn’t think it meant anything.” He sighs realizing you're overthinking, that’s why you're quiet.
“Don’t let that bother you, it’s okay.” He reassures you.
“I just don’t know what kind of man sees a woman who’s clearly on a date and is still so bold. Although when it comes to you I fear I’d be the same way.” John says and you scoff with a small smile looking away.
“I would, you're gorgeous, a gem. But my gem.” You can’t help the rise of warmth to your cheeks. You realize John is always complimenting you, always making sure you know how valuable you are. Does he not realize how you feel about him?
“And how do you think I feel about you?” You say in a tone close to a whisper. His eyes search yours wondering where this is going.
“Getting jealous over a man who doesn’t compete with you and never could is beyond me.” You continue when he doesn’t respond.
“John, you're the most attractive man I’ve ever met, and I’m gladly all yours. My mind is too full of john price to think about anyone else” He groans quietly at the admission, not quite enough for your sensitive ears to pass up on though.
“Yeah?” He says shifting in his seat as your words go straight to his cock.
“Yeah.” You gaze at him with the widest eyes, his hand clenches and unclenches around the steering wheel as he tries to remain gentlemanly.
You unbuckle your seatbelt causing him to turn his head at the sound. You’re still about five minutes away from home so he's slightly confused. Though all that dissipates when you lean up against the center council placing a hand on his thigh grazing over the growing erection he knows you know is there to plant a kiss on his cheek then one on his lips before sliding back into your seat.
“Thankyou for dinner.” It’s laced with seduction.
you approach home at a faster speed than usual. He’s out of the car the second it's set in park rushing to your side to help you out. You can’t read his current expression as he practically drags you inside.
“Are you alright?” You ask, he scoffs at your audacity, fumbling with the keys to get the door unlocked. He’s ushering you inside quickly so the heat doesn’t escape from inside the home. You remove your boots by the door as John locks up. When you look up he's closer than you expected and his eyes are staring at you hungrily.
“Have I ever told you that you have a staring probl-“ his mouth is on yours before you can finish. There’s no easing into the kiss this time. He’s forcing his tongue in your mouth taking you by a welcomed surprise. He lifts you up like it’s nothing, hoisting you firmly around his waist.
His lips drag messily down your neck as he pulls your sweater down further, any and all access to your skin available to him he wants to taste. You’re pressed up against a wall one second and then being walked towards his room another. He’s impatient and it's unlike him, yet he’s never felt more like himself.
Your hands are in his hair pulling up his mouth to meet yours. His pants are so strained in the crotch area that he’s bucking his hips unintentionally searching for any kind of attention. You've grown embarrassingly wet in a matter of minutes, being turned on doesn’t describe how you feel. Your skirt has become scrunched above your bum from all John’s touching and kneading.
“Please.” You whine. He meets your lustful stare, smiling at how submissive you’ve become from just a little touching.
“What do you want?” His voice has dropped octaves and his accent sounds extra thick as he says it in the short space between you. When you refuse to answer he presses more into you sparking friction so intense and so needed that your eyes shut softly.
“What is it, hmm?”
“You John, I want you.” You admit, you’re truly trying your best given what you want sounds too raunchy to speak aloud.
“Well I’m right here, gonna need more of an explanation.” He’s trying his hardest to not just give you it all.
“Your fingers.” You can’t look at him as you say it. But the smile that forms on his face is so large and proud.
“Don’t be an ass.” You say watching as your words definitely go to his ego. He knew you had a thing for his hands as he often caught you glancing at them when you got the chance.
“You’re making my greatest wishes come true, why can’t I just be happy about it.” You smile now as his lips return to yours. He walks more down the hall this time you believe he’s heading into his room until your backs pressed up somewhere else. You open your eyes confused looking around before you notice you’re up against the candlelight painting, before you can question him he reads your mind.
“Don’t think I ever told you how much I love this one.” He says as he begins to remove your top. You raise your hands for him as he throws it to the floor beside you. You feel his hips stutter a bit when he sees the black Lace bra that adorns your chest.
“You’ll be the death of me.”
“Promise?”
His hands waste no time in finding the space between your thighs as he rubs an experimental finger over the damp spot that’s soaked through your tights. He nearly drops to his knees for a taste when he realizes just how wet you are.
“Is this all for me?” he asks, pressing more firmly into the area.
“Yes.” it lacks that poised tone you always have. He grips the thin fabric and rips it in the crotch area and just like all tights, once one thread becomes undone the rest basically tears itself. He peers down looking at your matching panties clicking his tongue. His eyes go immensely dark at the sight of your arousal smeared on your plump thighs. He pushes your panties to the side shamelessly dipping a finger into your glistening cunt. Your back arches off the painting at the new sensation, mouth dropping a bit In anticipation. You hear how wet you are as he slides a finger up and down through your folds simply getting familiar with you, committing this to memory.
“Please john.” you whine. His eyes find yours as his index finger begins to prod at your sopping entrance. He watches your face intently as he slides it inside, groaning at the way you clench around the single digit. His fingers are thick and coarse and your newest obsession. He can't get enough of the look of pleasure on your face as he begins to pump it in and out of you. You've sucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep your moans mostly muffled trying your best to make little noise but that just doesn’t work for him. He leans in sucking it into his own mouth before kissing you deeply as you try your hardest to reciprocate. He begins to introduce his middle finger slowly easing it inside next to his other, your mouth falls open as a sound of pure pleasure escapes at the stretch.
“D’s that feel good?” he asks breathlessly as the nearly painful erection in his pants twitches. You can't bring yourself to answer as your eyes fall to the hand that’s delivering you this feeling of ecstasy. He too watches in awe as your arousal leaks into his palm.
“S’good all yours john.” you cry out as he presses his thumb to your clit. He can feel you getting close by the way his fingers are fighting to keep pumping inside your tight hole. He keeps the pace as he places sloppy kisses on your breasts sucking a little roughly on the soft tissue and watching the little bruises that immediately arise.
He watches you in admiration, this is a paramount moment in his life. He curls his fingers towards that spot that makes you mumble incoherently, creasing your eyebrows in diversion.
“John, I'm close.” you're not close you’re practically there and he can't wait to see how pretty you look coming on his hand.
“Come on doll.” he wishes his eyes were cameras, he wants to keep the look on your face as you moan out his name forever. How your hands are holding onto his shoulders for dear life as if he’d drop you. And the way your long eyelashes flutter close. You're a dream, an absolute spectacle. His fingers continue to fuck you through the intense feeling, making sure you’re more than sated.
He waits for your breathing to slow as he pulls his fingers from you. You whimper at the empty feeling. Your eyes that are struggling to fully open don't miss the moment he sucks them into his mouth gathering every ounce of spilled arousal. He moans loudly around them and you feel that switch come back on as quickly as it did the first time. He takes you to his room kicking the door open and setting you softly onto his bed. He removes your panties discreetly tucking them in his pocket as you still struggle to fully regain awareness.
“May I?” He asks kindly, leaning down as he begins to hook your thigh around his shoulder.
“Oh John I never you don’t-“
“You never what?” He questions in absolute disbelief.
“You know this.” You gesture down to him with your hands, slightly embarrassed.
“I won’t if you don’t want me too.” He wants a taste desperately, truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if you deny him.
“It’s not that I don’t want you too, it's just don’t feel obligated.” He laughs and you feel the air of his breath fan against you.
“You're the one doing me the honor here, if you don’t like it just nudge me with your hand.” You nod nervously at him as he gains some focus onto the matter at hand.
He’s eye to eye with the most mouth watering sight on the planet. You’re perfect in a way that would seem unachievable if you weren’t a living testimony that it is.
He opens his mouth laying his tongue flat against your folds, your hips buck unintentionally and he moves to grip your hips and hold them firm.
One taste and he’s sure you will truly be the death of him. He immerses himself in you, lapping at everything you're willing to give. You moan softly as your hands find their way into his hair. It’s good, better than anything you could’ve expected. His beard burns the inner part of your thighs and that mixed with the way John has his eyes on you while his tongue finds ways to make your back arch off the bed is mesmerizing. You try your best to not grind down onto his face every time his nose makes contact with your clit. You wonder if he can breathe, deciding he probably can’t by the way his face is snug against you, the ungodly sounds of slurping and grunting is making you woozy all around.
“tastes so good, all f’me.” He says as he eats you out. It’s muffled into your folds, like if it wasn’t meant for you to hear. You feel that familiar build up of something hot and liquidy poor into your lower belly. A hand of yours kneads at your breast adding to the overwhelming senses of pleasure, with your other hand you pull on the locks of John’s hair, when he looks up he can’t contain it, the way his cock senselessly grinds into the mattress begging to be touched, he removes a hand from your hip carefully sliding it down the bed to release and stroke his aching red cock. He watches you lose yourself in pleasure as he fucks you on is tongue, your needy cries are melodic too him, they make him hungrier than ever before as he fucks his fist in fervor imagining the day he can split you open with it. Before he can think correctly he’s spurting loads more than he thought was possible onto his hand and dress shirt. The groan that he pours into you sends an intense feeling through your body, like thrashing waters that pull you under and keep you there before letting you back up. You don’t mean to, didn’t even expect it so soon but once the vibration hits you your clamping down onto his face. He doesn’t seem to mind, just continues to lick and prod at you letting your hips move slowly on his face.
“John I’m-” you try catching your breath.
“You better not say sorry my love.” He can’t comprehend that this is real life. He tries to drink up all of what’s left of you before you push him away from over sensitivity.
You lay there breathless and heavy as he climbs above you planting a kiss onto your lips. You moan softly as you taste yourself from his mouth. When he pulls away you look at him with his wet beard and glistening stache.
“What about you?” You say looking down towards his now unbuttoned pants.
“Finished about five minutes ago.” He says smugly.
“What?”
“What can I say doll, you're divine.” He’s not even phased by it and you’re in complete shock. He presses his weight down into you once more for a kiss then gets up and heads into the bathroom, you’re not sure what he’s doing till he comes back with a warm cloth and cleans the mess you made up. You’re unfamiliar with your partner doing aftercare but it’s nice.
“D’ya want a pair of boxers or sweats, and a shirt or sweater.” He says while going to his dresser.
“Boxers and sweater.” You answer quietly, you’re spent, as sleepy as can be. When he approaches you with both those things he helps you dress and opens the comforters for you to get inside. He himself is dressed in pajamas as he scoots in next to you pulling you firmly to his chest. You scoot impossibly close and intertwine your legs with his, your face is in the crook of his neck inhaling him as you fall asleep. He doesn’t want to lose this moment so quickly though so he tries his best to keep himself awake for as long as possible just to savor having you in his bed entangled with him physically and mentally. Although it doesn’t last as long as he’d like it’s enough to get him through the hard nights, his eyes drift closed as he too falls asleep.
——————-
I too am ashamed of myself🫶
Comments and re-blogs are greatly appreciated (if you do know spiritually I’m giving you a forehead kiss) ❕
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PAC: Your First Kiss With Your Person
Notes:
This PAC Contains:
General Info On The Kiss
Setting The Scene
The Kiss
Extended Edition Covers:
You During The Kiss
Your Person During The Kiss
The Aftermath
✨ This reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨ (General Disclaimer at the bottom)
Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂
PILE 1
General Things
Could be very early in the relationship… during the ‘get to know you’ stages. There’s a lot of attraction and tension between you and this person. I think this could be someone you either meet through a career or online. It’s fast paced but intense, a quick back and forth. But it’s good because it’s an exchange where you both are on the same level or matching energies. It’s welcomed, but it feels very interrogative, like ‘does this person fit the bill of what I’m looking for 👀’ rather than a chill get to know you. It feels like a new environment too, as in both of you are out doing something new together for the first time. It doesn’t seem like there’s any anxiety around the questioning, just kind of throwing every and anything at the wall to see if it sticks. Scorpio or Gemini could be important placements for you or them.
Setting The Scene
When it comes to the location of the kiss it could be a festival of some kind, I’m get a fair, specifically a renaissance fair for someone, or something with that vibe for a few of you. It could also be an event around water and/or where there will be live entertainment. I think it’s definitely picked strategically by whoever plans this outing… I think maybe more so your person. I also feel like it could be their old stomping grounds as well or something being hosted by someone they know. There’s an opportunity to kind of learn from others during this event/setting also.
The Kiss In General
I think this kiss is going to be awakening or energizing. One that gives you a surge of energy. I also heard that you might be trying to best them at something too. It might be outside of one your comfort zones and there could be a lot of anxiety surrounding the kiss on someone’s part. If not anxiety, hearts racing. During a dance as well could be another likely scenario. One where it’s like "Okay, we’re dancing... I feel like a fool, Oh! you’re kissing me!"... Except the rest of the thoughts just fizzle out because you melt into it. People around you might cheer you guys on.
If you'd like to see the extended version of this reading which covers you & your person's feelings during the kiss as well as the 'aftermath' you can check it out on my Patreon here. Regardless, thank you for reading and take care! 💕
PILE 2
General Things
The cards are giving me fairytale-esque vibes... a dream come true. This could happen when you’re traveling, finding home or experiencing something life changing. This could happen at a time where you’re on a journey to finding yourself/ finding your way and I’m getting that your person is intent on wanting to show you they can be a part of that world. I think this person is hard to ignore, and honestly it could be hard to ignore whatever is going on between you two. There could be something about their eyes… maybe you avoid eye contact because it’s so intense and feels like you’re intruding? I think your person lights up your world. However, they could kind of know themselves and have all their 'colours' while you’re now finding yours. There’s something intimidating here about them.... very much you trying to convince yourself you two can’t be together. I’m also hearing “You’re my North Star”.
It could happen during a place that represents transition, in the location you’re leaving or at one of your homes (most likely yours). It’s like they want to offer you home and you’re resisting. You’re denying yourself entrance into the castle they have to offer. I think your head and heart aren’t aligning and in all honesty your person is tired of it and just at a point where they are begging you to let yourself be happy.
Setting The Scene
I feel like this is a nice setting. More lavish for some than others . It could be in the evening or at night. It should be a date? I don’t think you want it to be but it is… I mean I think you know it is but you're at a point where you're beside yourself pushing this person away mentally and throwing up walls. You guys could go to a show or some kind of enchanting exhibit too.
The Kiss In General
This could definitely be at night. I think the setting really depends on your interest. So it could be a concert, something related to music… but somewhere someone has the chance to get rowdy. Even a wedding or something where it’s nice but someone can likely get plastered and no one would really be surprised.
Okay back to the general kiss. I feel like it's a battle in a way. It’s impulsive. Emotions are running high. It’s about potential and fighting for what’s 'right'... Trying to wake you up. A climatic battle of trying to get out of your head so you can see what’s in front of you and just not what you’re dreaming of... what you think the cards (?) are telling you. I think this may be if you're constantly consuming tarot or other forms of divination and living your life by it.
If you'd like to see the extended version of this reading which covers you & your person's feelings during the kiss as well as the 'aftermath' you can check it out on my Patreon here. Regardless, thank you for reading and take care! 💕
PILE 3
General Things
You could be a little bit disinterested or distracted when you have your first kiss with your person. I think it might take you a minute or two before it registers in your head that you too kissed. It could be a kiss to calm you… like you’re brain is going a mile a minute and generally not being grounded.
I think you’re going to be in a comfortable situation when your person kisses you/you two share your first kiss. It could be in a situation where you’re both working on something together. Or they are helping you with something you’re working on. It’s someone who complements you beautifully. It could be a social gathering between close friends as well (but it still feels like a rather private moment, like everyone else is distracted as well and they sneak a quick kiss). If you’re a musician (or a music teacher, really anything related to that field) you could be composing or reviewing a piece and they kiss you. You could get pulled in many different directions mentally or come up with a lot of ideas but burn out on them quickly.
Setting The Scene
Oh my gosh-- Are you hungry or do you like food because all I can think of is food 😩
It could be a casino, family/friends game night, holiday dinner. You’re focused intensely on something in front of you. Your mind is calculating, unfazed by things going on around you. I’m also getting the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland... a 'smoky' or and environment that gives off psychedelic vibes.
The Kiss In General
I think the kiss is attention grabbing, not just for you but someone around you may kind of cheer or whoop but you might not pay them much mind. I think your person is like this is my time with y/n and I’m not letting their thoughts steal them away! I think they're accustomed to you being off in la la land. For some of you, you could be in the medical field or have a very scholarly profession that bleeds into your personal time. But the kiss always cuts through that. I’m hearing “ah ah ah” as well.
If you'd like to see the extended version of this reading which covers you & your person's feelings during the kiss as well as the 'aftermath' you can check it out on my Patreon here. Regardless, thank you for reading and take care! 💕
Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all
#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a card reading#pac reading#pick a picture#pick a pile reading#cozycottagetarot#cozycottagetarot readings#free tarot reading#tarotblr#pick an image#future spouse#pac tarot
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SUMMARY: Someone's picked a fight with Prefect! But he isn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore. Not on his watch. Part 1! Part 2 with Vil and Silver can be found here.
WARNINGS: Uhhh Prefect (you) gets hit in the face & your nose bleeds. also blackmail.
COMMENTS: I actually wanted to write this firstly for some of my moots! I was gonna write more of their favourites but it accidentally got too long to put in one post, so I'm planning on making a part 2 tomorrow. Anyway, @azulashengrottospiano and @i-like-forgs, enjoy!!
It must be raining.
You were just out in a storm. That’s all.
That would explain the crack of thunder that collided with your face and gave you a throbbing headache. The warm liquid blurring your vision and dripping out of your mouth and nose was just the rain, not some unholy mix of blood and tears. The chills that froze you where you stood was just humidity and the cold, not adrenaline and raw fear.
And yet, even with your desperate brain trying to come up with some reasonable explanation, the only thunderstorm you could see in front of you was a student you couldn’t recognise. Not with your head pounding like this. Not with the thunder in your ears.
There was something about the boy that scared you. That wasn’t uncommon - this school was full of terrifyingly promising mages. But the scariest thing wasn’t how he wielded his magical pen with deadly accuracy, or how strong he so evidently was.
It was just how much he seemed to be enjoying the mix of horror and pain, of blood and tears, that must have been so evidently and delicately splashed across your face.
His smile twisted as he raised his pen again, something in those cruel eyes of his setting off alarm signals in your aching head.
“This’ll teach you not to meddle where you don’t belong.”
The pen glowed, pure magic surrounding it as he prepared to shoot. His sadistic eyes were alight with entertainment. He knew what he was about to do. He didn’t care.
You squeeze your eyes shut and braced for the lightning.
A chuckle and an arm wrapping around your waist made your eyes snap back open.
“C’mon babe, gotta run!”
Pulling you by the waist, the boy broke into a run. You stumbled for a minute, but soon followed after. He released your waist but gently took your hand, tugging you along, urging you to be faster.
A stray spell flew between the two of you.
The boy looked back, an uncharacteristic flash of annoyance creasing his brow.
He caught your eye and winked.
“Split card!”
A second boy seemed to appear next to you. He was an exact copy of the first - the same stylishly ruffled orange hair, the same piercing emerald eyes, the same practiced, perfect smile.
The same red diamond under his right eye.
“Hey, keep ‘em busy for me!”
“You got it, king.” The second boy - the product of Cater Diamond’s unique magic - winked at you. He planted his feet, whirled around and started to cast spell after spell at your assailant.
The real Cater Diamond pulled you along, into the school building. Together you ran, through corridor after corridor, passing empty classroom after empty classroom.
Finally, he slowed to a stop in front of a classroom you’d never seen before. Glancing around and putting his finger in front of his mouth in a shushing motion, he grinned at you.
“In here.”
He held open the door for you, shutting it behind the both of you as you looked around. There were all different kinds of instruments and sheet music scattered around, along with an abandoned satchel. You saw at least one set of drums, along with two electric guitars and one acoustic, amps, even some microphones and music stands.
You supposed this was the Light Music Club’s room.
Cater winced, scratching his nape. “My bad, forgot it was so messy here. Whoever that was won’t find us here, though!” He grinned at you, his smile fading when he noticed the condition you were in.
He took both of your hands and, holding you as though you were made of glass, led you over to an amp. He gently pushed you onto it. It was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but that was not what you were focusing on.
How could it be?
Cater Diamond was standing in front of you. He glowed like the sun wherever he went, commanding your attention and leaving you blinded.
If he ever called you, you would gladly follow.
The light faded a little as he let go of your hands and stepped away. He walked over to the discarded bag on the ground and started rummaging through it.
“There’s gotta be something… aha, #jackpot!” Pulling out a packet of tissues, he made his way back over to you. Pulling out a tissue, he smiled hesitantly. “Do you mind if I…?”
You blinked. You had forgotten about the pounding in your head, which started to come back with a vengeance. Putting one hand to the side of your head, you gestured for him to go ahead.
He stood just in front of you, one hand cupping your face, the other gently trying to clean as much of the blood off as possible. He didn’t say anything as he went about his work, but there was a look in his eyes as he worked. One filled with kindness and empathy, soft enough to make your heart skip a beat.
He stepped back and, crossing his arms as though to survey his handiwork, he nodded satisfactorily. “The blood on your shirt will be hard to wash off, but the bleeding from your nose has stopped.” He gave you a strained - albeit gentle - smile.
You nodded and placed your hands in your lap, studying them instead of meeting the gentle emerald eyes you could feel searching you.
“Prefect…” he started, the hesitancy in his voice evident. He cautiously sat next to you and you glanced up at him. “Is- are you okay?”
You closed your eyes and leaned into him. He startled a little at your touch, then wrapped his arm around you. “I am now.”
“My my, what have we here?”
“What… the hell?!”
That voice… wait, it couldn’t be-
Blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the tears, you registered three things.
First, and most obvious, was that the thunderstorm was being contained.
Easily.
I mean, the new arrival held him as easily as a newborn kitten for goodness’ sake. He looked almost as twisted as your assailant, with pure glee in his yellow and olive-brown eyes, his wide grin revealing sharp, pointed teeth. He was evidently enjoying the student’s squirming.
“Got him! I wanna squeeze him ‘til he pops~”
The second thing you registered was the hand resting on your shoulder.
Looking up, you noticed another boy, practically a mirror image of the first. One hand was resting protectively on your shoulder, his other hiding his smile. He looked a lot calmer than the first, but his eyes - the exact opposite of his brother’s - betrayed him. The air around him was crackling with excited energy.
“Not yet, Floyd. I believe that Azul has something he wishes to say to him first.”
“Boo. Hurry up.”
Wait.
Azul?
Looking around, you finally registered the third - and final - new arrival. Azul Ashengrotto, the head of the Mostro Lounge, was strolling towards the boy. There was something about him that was different. His curly hair caught the sun, making the silvery colour feel akin to pure, vivid white, as though it was glowing. From this angle, you couldn’t see the face you’d studied so many times - his enchanting grey eyes, or the beauty mark just below his mouth.
There was nothing physically different. So what was wrong?
Ah, that was it. He was angry.
“Do not fret, Floyd.” He stopped in front of the boy, directly in front of you. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
“Wh-… what the hell is wrong with you?!” The student shouted, twisting and scratching at Floyd’s arm in a desperate attempt to free himself.
“Wanna find out?” Floyd squeezed the boy tighter and he yelped.
“No! No thank you!”
“Well, at least you have some manners.” Azul drawled.
“What do you want from me?”
“This won’t take long.” Azul fished out some photos from his pocket and showed him. “Do you know who this is?”
“H-… how did you-?!”
“Unimportant.” He waved off the question as though it was simply one about the weather. “However, I believe that it would be in your best interests to leave the Prefect alone now.”
“Hah… you’re trying to blackmail me?”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word. I am simply offering you a way out.”
“A way out?” The boy scoffed.
“Certainly. I believe if your mother saw these photos, you would be in a great deal of trouble, would you not? If I am correct, you promised her you’d be on your best behaviour this year. After all, one more incident could be enough for an expulsion, with a track record such as yours.”
“Hey-!”
“It’d be a shame for the school to lose such a promising mage. How about you meet with me in the VIP room tomorrow around 4 o’ clock tomorrow? We can discuss things in more… detail… then.”
The boy glowered but said nothing.
Azul sighed. “I’m a man of my word. As long as no harm will come to the prefect, no harm will come to you in the meantime.”
“Fine.” The boy spat.
“Very well, we have a deal then.” Azul took a step back. “Let him go, Floyd.”
“But he hurt Shrimpy! I don’t wanna~”
“Floyd. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”
Floyd complained loudly, but let the boy go. He smoothed his jacket, glaring daggers at you and Azul in turn. Then he whirled around and stormed off.
Three pairs of eyes now turned to you.
You blinked in return.
“Shrimpyyy~!” Floyd bounded over to you and squeezed you in a rib-cracking hug. “Did the bad man hurt you? Don’t worry, you’re with us now, Shrimpy!”
“Give them some air, Floyd.” Jade said and tugged Floyd’s shoulder, attempting to pull him away from you.
“Nooo-“
“Are you alright, Prefect?” Azul asked. He sounded worried.
Floyd and Jade exchanged conspiratorial smirks and Floyd let you go. There was blood on his jacket from where your head had rested against him.
The realness of what just happened began to set in. The pounding sensation in your head came back with a vengeance.
“I-…” the world began to spin around you, and Azul grabbed you, panic in his eyes. You felt your legs buckle and he caught you smoothly. “Sorry- I just-“
“It’s quite alright. I will stay with you as long as you need.” Azul reassured you, although you didn’t - couldn’t - miss the quiver in his voice or the pink dusting his face. He pulled out a handkerchief and put it to your face. You took it and applied pressure to your nose, angling your head downwards in order to stop the bleeding, as Azul hesitantly rubbed patterns into your back to help you feel better. The sensation made you feel warm.
With a smile, you realised it wasn’t storming anymore. The sun had finally come out.
♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
#Rhea's twst fics~!#twisted wonderland#Azul Ashengrotto#twst#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul x reader#Cater Diamond#cater diamond x reader#cater x reader#twst fluff#Azul twst#Azul Ashengrotto twisted wonderland#Cater twst#Cater Diamond twisted wonderland
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Hello! I’ve stumbled across your blog and i love it!! I see you’re doing the "sit on his lap" and was wondering if you could add Zoro & Ace and whoever else you choose! Thank you in advance ☺️
Sitting in their lap while they’re not paying attention - w/ Zoro & Ace
Content: Gender neutral reader, SFW
Notes* Thanks for requesting this and also letting me have a free choice, because I haven’t had the chance to write for Paulie yet. But he’s going to have some NSFW elements, so his will be posted separately right away!
Part three of this prompt. Read the other parts here:
1 2 3 4
Zoro
It’s impossible to catch this guy off guard
But there is one way
Zoro is known for his impromptu naps, and that’s how you need to get him
He’s very easily able to shoot up, awake in an instant, at any nearing enemy or danger
So you have to keep your mischief in check while you do it
He’s sitting up against the mast of the ship, arms folded and legs crossed over his ankles
You near him, kneel down, and wave in front of his face
No reaction
Robin is watching you do this from where she’s sitting and reading, amusement all over her face
Carefully, you seat yourself down and make yourself comfortable. You kind of feel like a cat while doing this
It takes you a second to get your legs comfy- you’re kind of sprawled out everywhere
But once you do, you watch his face for any sense of him waking
He doesn’t move, and so you push your luck and take it a little further
You carefully pick up one of his arms and put it around your shoulders, that way you can put your head on his shoulder with one hand on his chest
You’re kind of stuck here until he wakes up, but at least you’re comfortable in the warmth of his body heat
At one point, Nami stops and asks you something about ‘choosing the meathead’, but you’re half asleep at this point
You fall asleep before you get to see his reaction- His face and ears go red when his eyes open and he realizes he can’t move under you
He’d been ready to grab for his sword and attack, but he’d never met an enemy as cute as you were
He carefully stands, picking you up as he does while being careful not to wake you
You wake up hours after the sun has already set, lying comfortably on top of Zoro’s chest in the hammock, one hand on your back and the other behind his head
Slowly, you relax, and head right back to sleep
Ace
Ace is the insufferable type of boyfriend- and by that, I mean he would absolutely tease the hell out of you for anything you wanted to do with him- even if he wanted to do it just as badly
“Aww, you want a kiss? You’re going to have to jump for it.”
You still think you should have just swept his leg for that
But knowing this, you knew that to get into his lap without his annoyingly cute teasing, you needed to flip the script on him and get him flustered instead
So you waited for the perfect moment
Ace is known for his strange narcoleptic condition. It was always at mealtime
So you made sure to sit directly beside him today when everyone was called to dinner
Marco gave you a look when you rushed to your seat- he knew you were up to something, but he couldn't quite tell what it was yet
You just gave him a wink
Ace is chatty with everyone as much as he can be while stuffing his mouth full, as usual
And mid-conversation, that’s where he drops
Also as usual
You quickly move to catch his head before he falls face-first into his food, and then everyone watches and laughs as you maneuver him so that you can sit on his lap, facing him
Once you’re steady, you let his face fall into your chest
Marco sighs and shakes his head
Ace comes to just a second or so later, drool at the corner of his mouth and eyes heavy. His hat is knocked slightly askew, and he fixes it before realizing where he’s been drooling on
Blush paints his face as he meets your gaze
Smirk on your face, you coo at him and ask if he likes your body that much to be drooling all over it
He shakes his head with a low chuckle as the crew laughs
He’s got that look on his face that you were hoping for- complete surrender
He doesn’t know how to retaliate, so he just pulls you down for a kiss
Someone throws a dinner roll at the two of you and shouts for you to get a room
#one piece#harleywritesop#hwop#portgas d. ace#ace one piece#ace op#one piece ace#fire fist ace#portgas d ace#ace x reader#trafalgar d law x reader#law x reader#op law#law one piece#trafalgar law#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar one piece
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It's You - Choi San | 3 AM
Pairing: San x Reader
Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU
Series Rating: M (18+)
Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby)
Word Count: 2.1k
Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me
Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?
A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱
Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.
Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕
It’s You Masterlist 🐈⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈⬛ Main Masterlist
It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career.
There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.
“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.”
San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes.
“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!”
“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you.
“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.”
With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff.
You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.
“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head.
It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this.
But he can’t sleep here.
“San. San, are you awake?”
“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.
“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!”
San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to.
“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.”
You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.
It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.
San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.”
He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing.
“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…”
“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it.
“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”
“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!”
This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.
Like when you need to kick him out of your bed.
He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy.
So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.
His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober.
And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you.
If you reach that point.
“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks. “I like kissing you.”
You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”
“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same.
“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.”
“Then what time is it?”
Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him.
“It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again.
“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on.
But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.
“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!”
San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?”
Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since.
Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.
Doesn’t mean you like it, though.
“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “
The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom.
“Noona.”
You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again.
“She’s in early today, right?”
The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.
“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.”
He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?
Yeah, that’s probably it.
“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.
“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?”
And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance.
“Okay.”
San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.
“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly.
“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.
“Right, none of that.”
“Just cuddles?”
As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding.
“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.”
Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t.
You’re feeling suddenly inspired.
(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)
If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕
Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch
© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.
#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#san x reader#choi san x reader#san fanfic#ateez angst#choi san fanfic#fic: it's you
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The Kind of Girl You Take Home - Part 3
➪the one where bradley can’t get enough of you after making things official.
Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, unprotected sex, pda, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, pain kink, sex tape (kinda), dirty talk to the max, small breeding kink, age gap, bradley is even more whipped for you, here is a part 3 no one asked for mwah
Word Count: 8.2k | Part 1, Part 2, Part 4
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Thank you for 3.7k followers :')
“It’s not too late to turn back around and apologize for ditching them later, you know,” Bradley said as he parked the Bronco in the beach parking lot. “I’m sure they won’t miss us if we were to leave right now.”
You roll your eyes and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Not a chance,” you reply and lean over the center console so you can grip his shoulders. “You’re leaving for two months soon, everyone wants to see you before your deployment.”
Bradley sighed but quickly lightened up when you leaned further in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pulled away far too soon for his liking, he placed his hands on either side of your face and guided you back into another, much longer kiss. He groaned as he deepened it, one hand sliding down to grip your waist through your thin tank top. “Come on, baby, let’s just go home,” he nearly begged and you laughed as you pulled away from him.
“No, Bradley,” you say and place your palm flat against his mouth when he tries to kiss you again. “A few hours with your friends won’t kill you, then after that we’ll leave.”
“We’ll stay for two hours, max,” he told you as he opened the door and took your hand in his when you met him around the front of the Bronco. “Then I’m taking you home.”
“Bradley,” you warned as he led you down towards the sand.
“What? We’ll see them later at the Hard Deck, anyway,” he waved off your eye roll as he pulled you along with him. “They don’t need to take away any more of my alone time with you today.”
You shake your head and hold back a smile as you finally make it down to the beach. As soon as your feet touched the sand you were lifted off the ground and spun around. Your hand slipped from Bradley’s and you grip Jake’s shoulders as he embraces you, laughing as he wraps his arms around your middle. “Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned up at you. “Missed you.”
He sets you down and winks up at your boyfriend when Bradley gives him an unimpressed look. “You saw me a few days ago,” you pointed out and Jake just shrugged.
“I used to see you a lot more than that,” he responded as he backed away from you. “I can’t believe Rooster stole you from me twice now.”
“Seresin,” Bradley muttered as he pulled you back into his side.
“Bradshaw,” the blond said back before grinning at you again and walking towards the group of aviators that were further down the beach.
The two men still weren’t on the best terms after the quick bar brawl that occurred at the Hard Deck a mere three months ago. Sure, they spoke to each other while at work, but outside of work they avoided each other even more than before. They were somewhat friends back when Jake introduced you to Bradley, and had grown a bit close during the five months you two were unofficially together, but after Bradley fucked it up with you, Jake had completely shut down any chance of a proper friendship forming between the two of them.
It was unfortunate, as you and Jake are very close and now it was no secret that you and Bradley were head over heels for each other. Bradley wanted to try and mend the broken friendship between him and Jake just for you to be reassured that the two most important men in your life weren’t at each other’s throats whenever you aren’t around, but Jake never gave him the time of day.
Three months of that and it really pissed Bradley off, enough to the point where he stopped trying and now just accepted that the brief encounters he had with the other aviator at work and at the Hard Deck would be all that would happen between them.
“Fucking Hangman,” he muttered as he glared at Jake’s retreating form through his aviators. He was dreading this next deployment, simply because Jake will be there with him, and because he’ll be away from you.
“Hey,” you scold as you deliver a gentle nudge to his ribs with your elbow. He caught it in his hand and pulled your body back to his, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. Your words die on your tongue when he tugs you forward until your chest is pressed right up against his and your hands slide upwards to grip his biceps.
“God, I wanna take you home so badly right now,” he mumbled against your mouth before kissing you again.
“Hey, Rooster! Give the poor girl a break, man, and get over here. We’re just about to start another round of dogfight football,” Fanboy called out from his spot near the water.
You pull away with a teasing smirk, patting him on his chest as you back away. “Ooh, sounds fun,”
Bradley’s hands fall from their place on your hips and he bites down on his lip as you walk towards where Nat is sitting. He watches as you bend down and place your towel next to hers, not even giving him a second glance as you fall into a conversation with her.
“Bradshaw, let’s go, man, she’ll still be there after the game,” Payback yells over the chatter of the group.
Both you and Nat smirk at Bradley and he curses under his breath as he pulls off his white tee and tosses it at you. You catch it with a surprised laugh and stuff it into the tote bag you brought.
Bradley joins in on the game and ends up covered in sand and had initiated more than one dogpile during the thirty minutes he participated in. You chatted with Nat the whole time, but you couldn’t really be blamed for not being able to take your eyes off your extremely attractive and fit boyfriend.
You had to refrain from moaning at the sight of him when you were right next to his best friend, and that was a hard task in itself. Bradley caught your eye every once in a while and sent you a smirk every time. The urge to not jump on him in the middle of the game was even harder to resist.
When the sun loomed higher in the sky and heated up the whole beach, you decided to rid yourself of your tank top and jean shorts. After shoving them in your bag as well you settle back down against your towel just as you hear Fanboy yell, “Come on, Bradshaw, we were winning! Where are you even going?”
That made you look up and watch as Bradley begins to splash water on himself to wash away the sand from his body. You bite your lip harshly as you take in his wet skin and heat up from both the sun and the way Nat laughs from her spot next to you.
Once he is decently cleaned from both the sand and sweat, Bradley walks right past the group of guys and heads in your direction. “Alright, we lost Rooster,” Fanboy announced as he turned back towards the others. “Round three? Phoenix, you want in on this one?”
Nat sprung up instantly and took Bradley’s place, slapping him on the shoulder as she passed him. “Nice job at keeping your hands to yourself for over five minutes, Bradley,” she joked and he barely gave her an eye roll before he was towering over you and blocking the sun from your eyes.
You gaze up at him with a teasing smile. “Oh, hey,” you greet. “All done with the game?”
He grunts and moves so he’s sitting next to you on the towel. “Yeah,”
“That’s too bad,” you pout as you move over to make more room for him, but he just slides closer to you. “I was enjoying the free entertainment.”
“You’re the reason it ended early,” he said and you scoffed.
“As if,” you laughed. “You were busy beating Jake and Coyote and then the next second you’re quitting and walking towards me.”
He gives you a pointed look before raking his eyes up and down your body in an obvious nod as to why he stopped the game early. “Because you look like this,”
You glanced down at your red two piece and shrugged. “You’ve seen me in less than this, Bradley,”
“I know,” he rasped, moving even closer to you until his cold side was pressed to yours. You weren’t sure what caused you to shiver, his cool skin or the fact that he couldn’t seem to stay away from you today. “But you look so hot right now. It’s making me jealous that the rest of the guys get to see you like this.”
“God, you’re clingy,” you complain in a lighthearted tone and push him away from you, but it might as well have been a light tap as he barely moved an inch.
“I told you that you’d become sick of me,” he smirked. “Just living up to my end of the deal.”
Before you could reply with a smart remark, he was closing the distance and kissing you hard. His aviators pressed uncomfortably against your nose and you pulled away and tugged them off his face before kissing him again.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered as he kissed you deeply.
When he tries to pull you onto his lap you pull away and push at his shoulders. “No, you’re cold,”
“Then come in the water with me,” he suggested with a boyish grin.
“You’re wearing those in the water?” You nodded at his denim shorts as he stood up and held his hand out to you.
“Yeah, why not?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet. You placed his aviators over your own eyes as you looked up at him, lacing your fingers with his. “Would you rather me wear nothing at all?”
“Always,” you answer right away and he just smirks at you. “Let me get in at my own pace, Bradley.”
He hummed as he led you towards the water, and his lack of reply had you raising a brow.
“I’m serious,” when he glanced down at you and didn’t bother hiding his look of mischief, you stopped walking and begin to pull on his hand. “Don’t bother.”
But you were kidding yourself if you thought your strength could match his. Within seconds he had picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, making you yell out as you caught his aviators before they fell from your face.
“Bradley! Stop!” You nearly scream as he makes his way towards the water. “Please!”
Your pleads fell on deaf ears as he carried you closer to the water and the others were no help as they watched with grins at your misfortune. Even Jake wore a small smirk as Bradley grabbed his aviators from your hand and dropped them onto the sand without a care in the world. “They won’t help you, sweet girl,” Bradley said in a mocking tone.
“Bradley, I swear-” but you weren’t able to finish your warning before he was in the water with you still over his shoulder. You squeal loudly when you feel the cold splashes against your bare skin, and you briefly wonder how he was able to walk into the small waves as if they weren’t cold at all. “Oh, my God! Bradley.”
You were still pleading with him to stop, even as he was at waist level with the water. A few seconds later he was throwing your body into the cold water and you were met with his grinning face when you resurfaced.
Glaring up at him, you shiver instantly as you stand in front of him. “Stupid ass,” you mutter and splash him when he just laughed loudly at your insult.
He caught your hand when you went to splash him again and pulled your body against his. Instead of immediately pulling away from him you wrap your arms around his waist as his body is still somehow warm, even in the water.
You cling onto his warmth as the water splashes around your bodies, his heated skin soothing yours.
The others went back to the game after watching you get helplessly thrown into the water, so it just felt like you and Bradley at the moment. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he held you. “But now you look even hotter.”
You shake your head and nuzzle closer to him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,”
“You help me sleep at night,” he replied and you smiled up at him. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two months without you.”
“At least you’ll have Jake,” you offer and laugh at the emotionless look he gave you. “We’re swapping best friends for this one. Nat and I already have so many girl days planned, we’ll hardly realize you’re not here.”
Bradley scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he says. “You’ll know I’m gone when you’re trying to get yourself off without me there to do it for you.”
You gasp and look around as if you and he weren’t surrounded by water and way more than a couple of meters away from the shore. “You can’t say that to me,” you whine quietly. “Especially not in public.”
“You started it, sweet girl,” he shrugged as he gripped your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist under the water.
You throw your arms around his neck and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I will think about you every second of every day until you come home,” you tell him and hug him a bit tighter. “I won’t be able to sleep without you, either.”
He smiled at you and kissed you again, lifting one hand from your hip to caress the side of your face. “Good to know you still want me,”
“I will always want you,” you promise and press a kiss to his cheek and then another one to the skin just below his ear. “Tell you what, we’ll stay another hour here and then you can take me home and let me show you just how much I’ll miss you.”
Bradley pretty much spent the next hour in the water, even well after you made your way back to the shore. Your words, of course, went right through him and caused him to become hard, even in freezing cold water.
You willingly went with him when he finally got out and pulled you along the trail back to the Bronco after a brief goodbye to everyone else.
The whole ride back home he had his left hand tightly gripping the steering wheel while his right one touched every part of you that it could. You were both so needy for each other and it was evident by the way he barely had the car in park before he was tugging you inside and pushing you up against the closed front door.
His lips captured yours in a searing kiss as his hands gripped the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up as if you weighed nothing at all and pressed you harder against the wood, his bare chest pressed to your semi covered one. You had both passed on the idea of putting your shirts back on and left them in your bag that was still in his backseat. You had only managed to slip your shorts back on by the time he had pulled you up from the towel and led you back to the Bronco, but even those you had failed to zip up and button as Bradley was far too impatient.
He pulled you away from the door and carried you down the hall to his room. It was a trip he had made countless times before, and he seriously couldn’t believe he had almost let you slip away because of his commitment issues.
When he made the short walk to his bedroom by himself not too long ago after he returned home from his deployment, he felt so bad about himself and hated how he treated you. He hated not seeing your things in there and he hated sleeping alone, even if it was just for one night and he was drunk.
To think that it was no longer just his bedroom, but one he shared with you… the thought had his head swirling with need for you. Taking you to bed just felt so much better now, and while he would never forgive himself for how he acted towards you, he couldn’t be more grateful for the outcome of it all.
His shorts were still damp as he pressed his body against yours after laying you down in the middle of the bed. You didn’t care as he pressed kisses all along your shoulders and neck. “Bradley,” you moaned.
“I’m going to miss that sound,” he rasped as he sucked a mark onto the base of your throat. “Gonna miss you so much.”
He would probably miss you more than last time, seeing as he wasn’t sure if he had a chance with you after what he did. Now that he knew you would be here when he got back, he knew he would miss you twice as much. Especially since he would be returning to a home filled with both yours and his things.
“Just come back to me,” you whispered as he trailed kisses down your chest until his lips were pressed against the skin above your shorts. “That’s all I ask of you, Bradley.”
“You know I can’t promise you that, baby,” he murmured as he pulled the denim down your legs and dropped them to the floor. You whine softly, both from the feeling of his kisses on your inner thighs and from his words you knew were honest and true. You couldn’t ask him to promise to always come home, and you understood that, but it didn’t make it any easier. “But I can promise to always give it my all and to do everything I can to get back to you. I’ll do that every time. I always will.”
He tugs your red bikini bottoms down and drops them to the floor as well before you’re pulling him back up by his biceps. “Then that’s more than enough for me,” you promise and kiss him deeply. One of his hands slips down and his middle finger begins to gently rub circles onto your clit, making you moan against his mouth and pull him closer. “I love you so much, Bradley.”
His middle and index fingers run up and down your folds before slowly slipping inside. “I love you, sweet girl,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the love bite he had given you on your neck. “I always have.”
Bradley kisses all over your chest and nudges your nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini top with his nose. You whine quietly at the feeling and run your hands through his hair, bucking your hips up in time with the gentle thrusts of his hand.
“I always will,” he continues and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.
“Bradley,” you gasp when he uses his free hand to push up your flimsy top in order to wrap his lips around your hardening peaks. You take it upon yourself to arch your back and reach around to pull the string of the top, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
With your body completely bare, Bradley grunts deeply as he gently tugs on your nipple with his teeth, taking in the way your hands moved to cling to his biceps.
You were beyond soaked for him at this point and it could be heard with every fuck of his hand, and the sound only spurred him on. He still couldn’t believe that he had managed to get you back and that you still want him as much as he wants you.
His mouth travels downwards again and places kisses to various parts of your body before settling on your clit. You moan loudly and tug on his hair as his lips suck gently on your nerves in time with the movement of his hand. He curls his fingers inside you and the small pinch has you clenching tightly around him, your walls sucking his digits even deeper.
“Feels good?” He asks, knowing damn well that he was skilled with his mouth and fingers.
You still give in, though. “Fuck yes, Bradley, feels so good,”
He smirks against you before speeding up the pace of his hand and fucking his fingers into you. Keeping his mouth on your core, Bradley tilts his head back a bit and you knew right away what he was trying to get you to do without him needing to say it.
You tangle your fingers in his hair and tug a bit harder than before, feeling him hum in appreciation against your clit. “That’s it, baby,” he praised and kissed your inner thighs. “You know me so well, huh?”
“You’re mine,” was all you managed to get out, and the prideful grin he gave you had your legs trying to squeeze shut around his head.
“That’s right, sweet girl,” he agreed and leaned back down to your throbbing clit. “Now come on my fingers.”
“Fuck, I want to so bad,” you whine, out of breath from the pressure that was steadily building deep within you. “Want you to make me come.”
“I’ll get you off, baby,” he promised, smirking up at you. “Like I always do.”
“God,” you gasp as the coil snaps a bit unexpectedly. You had been turned on since he took his shirt off at the beach all those hours ago, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that you didn’t last very long. “Fuck, Bradley, fuck.”
He kissed the skin of your stomach as he slowly fucked you through your high, breathy praises leaving his lips as he stared up at you. “Good girl,” he murmured, placing an open mouthed kiss to your ribcage before hovering back over you. “My good fucking girl.”
You moan against his mouth when he kisses you hard, his mustache pricking the skin above your upper lip in the best way. “Bradley, please,” you beg against his lips. “Please, fuck me. I need it.”
He groaned loudly and pulled away so he could unzip his shorts. He practically throws them to the floor before he’s back on top of you, his mouth kissing all over your collarbones and shoulders. “I need it, too,” he confessed, settling in between your legs and teasing your wet folds with his tip. “I need you all the time. Gonna think about you every fucking second I’m gone.”
You whimper at both his promise and the sensitivity that shot through you at the feeling of his dick grazing your swollen clit.
Your lips were puffy as his met them in a searing kiss before slipping inside you with a sharp thrust. Moaning against his mouth, you wrap your legs tightly around him and grip either side of his face in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he grunts, fucking into you at a steady pace. “Still so tight for me, no matter how many times I fuck you.”
Your eyes blur for a second as you take in his words, and as your walls take him in general. “All for you,” you weakly murmur.
“All for me,” he repeated, rocking his hips against yours at a bruising pace. “All mine.”
He pressed his lips to the base of your throat and sucked another mark there, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to cover it up before heading over to the Hard Deck in a couple hours.
Even though damn near everyone knew that you were his, Bradley still loved seeing the physical proof of it.
Your needy whines spurred him on and made him want to please you in every single way he could. He kissed all over your shoulders and reached one hand down to grip your thigh as he wrapped your leg tighter around him. “I wanna stay here with you forever,” he rasped. “Just like this.”
“You can,” you manage to say as he fucked into you so good. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bradley. Always. I’m yours.”
Bradley grunted deeply, hiking your leg up higher. “You always know just what to say to me, sweet girl,” he commented as he slowed down a bit to prolong this as much as he could.
Yeah, you and he would need to get ready to go to the Hard Deck soon, but he would put a night like this with you over getting drunk with his friends anyday.
He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t fucking you quick and hard to ensure you weren’t late arriving to the bar like always. He was taking his time, loving on you in all the ways he would miss out on for the next two months after this.
Your walls noisily suck him in deeper, your previous orgasm providing him with all he needed to fuck into you hard and slow. Bradley’s eyes trail downwards, skimming past the two hickeys on your throat so he can watch the way he disappeared in you. “Fuck, look at that,” he said, more to himself. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?”
You moan and arch your back a bit, scraping your nails down his biceps.
He grunted at the sting. “There you go, baby,” he praised, cursing under his breath when he felt you clench down tightly around him. “Fucking claw me, give me something to remember you by for the next two months.”
“Bradley,” you cry out, wrapping your arms around him and digging your nails into the skin of his back.
He grinned at you, nudging your nose with his. “You were made for me,” he muttered, bracing both of his forearms on either side of your head. “Just for me.”
“Just for you,” you agreed breathlessly.
Bradley groaned at how submissive and responsive you always got when he fucked you like this. With each drag of him against your tight walls you were slowly losing yourself to the blinding pleasure that came with being filled so well. “I need more than just your scratches,” he concluded, watching the way his dick became more coated with your wetness each time he pulled out of you. “You should let me take a picture.”
You whimpered, leaning up to kiss along his neck. “Do it,” you encouraged his sinful idea with a teasing smirk.
He pulled away from your body with a deep groan as he reached for his phone. Keeping himself still buried within you, he points the camera downwards until it’s focused on your wet core.
He only was able to take one photo before you were giving him another idea. “Take a video, Bradley,” you purred, pushing on his shoulders. “Record how good you fuck me.”
Bradley exhaled harshly through his nose as he moved so he’s kneeling on the bed, your thighs spread wide and revealing your sopping entrance. He places one hand on your hip as he sits back and hits record, giving your drenched heat a slow fuck of his hips.
His fingers dig into your skin as he begins to thrust into you again, his eyes fixated on the screen of his phone as it captured the dirty act in top tier quality. “Look how wet you are, baby,” he comments as both you and him glisten as the lights reflect off your wetness. “Feel it?”
“Yes,” you answer and reach a hand out to wrap around the wrist of his that wasn’t holding the phone. “Feels so good, Bradley.”
He grunts as he gives another quick thrust, looking away from the camera and at the way your breasts bounced from the rough movement. “Say my name again,” he demands in his deep voice.
You moan as you comply, “Bradley,”
“Again, baby,” he requests, nearly dropping the phone when you tighten around him once more. “Who’s fucking you so good right now?”
“You,” you practically cry out. “You, Bradley.”
He moves his hand from your hip so his thumb can rub against your throbbing and sensitive clit, watching as your whole body shudders. “That’s right, sweet girl,” he muttered and couldn’t wait to watch this video once he stopped recording it. He knew he would be watching it on a nightly basis once he was stuck on that damn carrier for eight weeks.
“Bradley,” you gasped and reached for him. “Touch me, please.”
At the sound of your begs, he doesn’t bother stopping the recording when he drops his phone onto the bed next to you. He hovers over you and starts fucking into you harder than before, knowing that it wouldn’t be visible in the video, but your sweet sounds would definitely be heard. He could handle having to picture your body in his mind as long as he got to hear the sounds you only made for him.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your hands in his hair. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warned in a highpitched voice.
“I want it,” he nearly begs as he holds himself above you by his elbows. “Want you to come all over me, wanna feel it.”
“Oh, fuck,” you cry out and pull harshly on his hair as you come. “Fuck.”
Bradley locked his jaw as he held back his own orgasm, still roughly fucking into you as you try to come down from your high. “Good girl,” he said sweetly and your head spun as you weakly reached for his phone.
You grab it and angle it so the camera is capturing the image of him continuing to rock into you. You whimper at the sensitivity and open your legs wider so the video can really capture just how drenched you are for him.
Bradley groaned loudly as he leaned down to kiss you. You kiss him back and take your eyes off the screen, now blindly recording him as he fucked you hard and deep. “Come for me, Bradley. Inside me,” you requested in a quiet voice when you pulled away. “Knock me up on camera.”
You were on the pill, but your words still went right through him. He gave a few more deep thrusts before he was spilling into you, his seed reaching the deepest part of you.
He let out a throaty groan as he moved back so you can record the way his come spilled out of you when he pulled out. He took the phone from you so he could get a better angle, then nearly dropped it again when you reached down to swipe your finger through the mess. His phone followed your hand as you lifted it back up to your mouth and sucked the digit clean, giving the camera a sheepish smile afterwards.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped as he finally stopped the recording and dropped his phone back down onto the bed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to watch that when I know the real thing is waiting for me at home.”
You shrug and sit up, placing a kiss to his chest. “It will get you by while you’re away,” you murmur and lick a stripe up his neck. “I want you to think of me when you touch yourself.”
“There’s no one else I could ever think about,” he swore, wrapping his arm around your waist as you suck a mark on his shoulder. “Especially not after that.”
You grinned and leaned further up so you could kiss him. He deepens it by reaching up to angle your head for better access to your mouth. “We need to get ready,” you inform him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you crawl off the bed and wander into the bathroom.
Bradley sighs deeply, running a hand through his messy hair as he picks up his phone. He debates on whether or not he should play the video now, just to see if it came out alright, but he knew it would just make him hard again, and he actually did want to see Nat before he left for two months.
He ends up getting off the bed and dressing himself in jeans and a Hawaiian button up as he waits for you to emerge from the bathroom. When you do, he holds out one of his old tees to you. “Wear this tonight,” he suggests and you take it from him.
“What,” you laugh as you slip the shirt over your head. “The two hickeys you gave me aren’t enough to show that I’m taken? I have to wear your clothes now?” You were just teasing as you both knew how much you loved wearing his shirts.
“No,” he answered as he pulled you close to him. “I just like the way you look in my clothes.”
Truthfully, he wanted to erase the last time you wore his shirt to the Hard Deck. That was the last good night he spent with you before shattering your heart and nearly ruining everything you and he had. He wanted to replace that night with an even better one.
“Hm, okay,” you hum, leaning up to kiss him quickly before moving away to finish getting dressed.
-
“There you are!” Nat called as she watched you and Bradley enter the Hard Deck hand in hand. “Took you guys long enough.”
Bradley smirked as he thought about why you and he were late again. “We were a bit busy,” he said and loved how the physical proof of what made you late was in a file on his phone that was in his pocket.
“I don’t even want to know,” she cringed and began walking back towards the pool table. “Rooster, come over here and get your ass kicked in the next round.”
Bradley rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to your temple before standing on the opposite end of the table with Nat across from him. “That’s your specialty, not mine,” he grinned and looked over at you.
You smile and gesture towards the bar. “You want a beer?”
“Just one,” he answers and watches as you begin to make your way through the crowd of aviators.
He was getting flashbacks to the last night he spent with you before his latest deployment, and he wanted to take you back home and promise you that he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.
“Jeez, Bradshaw, you can’t keep your eyes off her for more than a second, huh? It’s your turn,” Nat broke him out of his trance by poking him with the tip of her pool cue. “She’s wearing your shirt, I see.” She adds when he finally gets into position and lined up his shot.
“You’re very observant, Nat,” he mumbled as he sank one of the solid colored balls.
“I’m just saying,” she held her hands up as she walked around the table. “You seem happier this time around. I guess that comes with finally making things official.”
Bradley couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face as he glanced over at you. Your arms were braced against the top of the bar as you waited for Penny to pour the beers, and you had a small smile on your lips as you stared at the floor. “I’m so in love with her, Nat,”
His best friend nudged his side with her elbow. “I know you are,” she said as he stood up and placed the cue against the table before beginning to make his way over to you. “Hey, that doesn’t mean you can just ditch our game! I was winning.”
But Bradley was already towering over you and taking one of the beers from your hand when you turned around. You jump slightly, nearly spilling your own beer as you look up at him. “I was going to bring that over to you,”
He takes a sip from the glass and shrugs, wrapping you up in his free arm and pulling you into his side. “It had been too long,”
“I was literally gone for less than a minute,”
“That just proves my point,” he replied as he pulled you towards the pool table. “I should be spending every second with you until tomorrow morning. Deployment rules.”
You scoffed. “You just made that up,”
He winked at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I won’t tell if you won’t,”
“Never,” you say and nuzzle closer to him. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Bradley presses his lips to the top of your head as Nat gets into position at the opposite end of the pool table. “I’m going to miss you, too, sweet girl. Every single day,” he swore. “The next two months are going to be so lonely without you.”
You lift a brow and give him a teasing smirk. “They better be,”
“You two are seriously so cute, I might actually throw up,” Nat muttered as she set down her pool cue. “So on that note, I’m going to get a drink. I’ll see you later, Bradshaw. Don’t get on that carrier without saying goodbye to me. I mean it.”
She pointed her finger at Bradley, who laughed and gave her a thumbs up. “Wouldn’t dream of it,”
You and Bradley stayed for about an hour after that before he caved and took you back home, where he spent the rest of the night loving you in every way possible and already trying to make up for lost time.
-
The next morning, after saying a quick goodbye to Nat, you and Bradley were off to the shipping dock once more.
It was hard to believe that the last time you were here with him was when you had given your heart to him and he had given it right back to you after damn near shattering it completely.
How he managed to get you back after that, he’ll never know.
It was clear that Bradley was also having a hard time standing on the dock and it was obvious that he, too, was thinking back to that awful day that almost cost him you forever.
He dropped his bag and turned to you when he was a few feet away from the ramp, his hands instantly finding their home on your hips. Yours come up to rest on his chest as you try to compose yourself as best as you could manage. “This is it, pretty girl,” he mumbled as he pulled your body close to his.
You nod and wrap your arms around his middle. “I love you, Bradley,” you whisper, unsure if he even heard you as countless other people sent off their loved ones around you.
He did, though. “I love you more,” he said back and kissed the top of your head, lingering there for a few seconds so he could inhale the sweet scent of your conditioner. When he pulled away, he was met with the sight of your teary eyes. “It’s okay, baby. We can handle two months.”
You shake your head and look up at him. “It’s not that,” you murmur, blinking away the tears as best as you could. “I was just thinking about the last time we were on this dock. Feels like it was yesterday.”
Bradley’s heart broke a bit at your words and he wanted to take you into his arms again, but refrained from doing so as he thought about his next move. His pocket felt heavy, even though the object was as light as a coin, and his heart quickly began to beat a bit faster.
His face heated up as he took one hand off your waist in order to rummage around in his pocket. “It’s not like last time,” he promised as his fingers felt the cool metal.
“I know, but still,” you trail off, furrowing your brows as he continues to feel around in his pocket.
“It’s not like last time,” he repeated in a breathy tone as he pulled his hand free. “Because you didn’t have this last time.” He held up a ring that reflected in the rising sunlight, the small object making your mouth part in a silent gasp.
“Bradley,”
“I’m sorry,” he said as he got down on one knee right there on the dock. He didn’t care about the many people rushing around him as he focused his full attention onto you. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Your eyes fill with tears once more as he takes your left hand in his. “Bradley,” you say again, at a loss for words as he held the ring between his thumb and index finger.
“I love you, and I love that you’re the one I get to come home to,” he says, him being the one to wear his heart on his sleeve this time around. “I hope I can return to you as your fiancé, if you’ll say yes.”
Your eyes widen and tears freely fall as you bend down to grab either side of his face. “Are you kidding me?” You ask with a laugh and kiss him hard. “Of course I’ll say yes. I’m saying yes.”
Bradley’s arms were around you in seconds as he stood back up to his full height, taking you up with him and lifting you off the ground slightly. Neither of you paid any attention to the smiling strangers around you as they witnessed your acceptance of the ring, your lips pressing together in a salty kiss. “Yeah?” He asked when he pulled away but kept you close to him.
“Yes,” you confirm and he took it upon himself to slide the pretty ring onto your finger. “God, I love you so much.” You say and jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him again.
He kissed you back as if this was his last time doing so, his arms caging your body tight against his. “I love you,” he says back, kissing you a couple more times as he sees people beginning to board the carrier next to him. “I gotta go, baby. But I’m coming back to you. I’m coming back to my fiancée.”
“Stop,” you whine against his mouth. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”
He grinned and peppered kisses all over your face. “Just know I’m going to be thinking about you every single second,” he swore as he set you back down.
You nod and grab his bag. “Be careful,” you beg as you hand it to him.
“Always,” he said as he took his bag and pressed a final kiss to your lips. “I love you.”
“I love you,”
-
“No fucking way,” Jake muttered as he threw his bag onto his bunk. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Bradley rolled his eyes from his place on his bed. “Cheer up, Hangman,”
Jake rolled his eyes as he sat down and ruffled his pillow. “How the fuck did we end up as bunkmates,” he muttered under his breath. “I was fine with being deployed with you, but not sleeping in the same room as you.”
Bradley wanted to bite back with some witty remark, but held off as he thought about you and how close you are to the guy beside him. For some reason you adored this guy, and he would just have to accept that Jake Seresin would always be in his life as long as he was in yours, and he planned on being with you for the rest of his days.
He already missed you so much. If he really concentrated and closed his eyes, he was sure he’d still be able to smell the vanilla perfume you wore whenever you left the house.
The same house he now shared with you, officially.
Man, is he whipped.
It hadn’t even been half an hour and he already craved you beyond words. The video you and he made weighed heavily in his pocket, and he was tempted to watch it now. You got him hard without even being in the same room as him, and he knew he wouldn’t last long when he got the chance to watch the video, but having Jake share the same room as him was definitely a mood killer.
He just hoped he would get the chance to be alone for at least a small portion of this deployment.
Bradley debated on whether or not he should just leave the room and only come back when it was time for bed, but he also knew he was going to have to face Jake at some point.
“This is getting old,” he said as he looked over at Jake. “Why are you still so pissed off with me?”
Jake sat up a bit straighter. “I said it before. Just because Y/n forgave you doesn’t mean I will,” he answered. “You weren’t there, man. She was….messed up. You fucked her up, Bradshaw. It was hard to see her like that and know it was partly my fault since I’m the one who brought you into her life.”
Bradley sat up from his lying position and faced his bunkmate. “I know I fucked up, alright? I know. I thought about it every single day while I was gone. It killed me to know that I made her feel like she wasn’t enough and that I wasn’t there to tell her that I didn’t mean it,” he rasped, his mind going back to how rude he was to you that day. He was such an ass, and you truly didn’t deserve any of it, much like how he simply didn’t deserve you. That never changed. “If I’m being honest, I’m glad she had you after how I left things. Even if you are a prick sometimes.”
“Wow, Bradshaw,” Jake said sarcastically. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”
Bradley grunted in response, unsure of how you put up with this literal child. He thought about what to say next, knowing he didn’t want the next eight weeks to be tense and awkward between the two men. Without thinking too much more, he says, “I asked her to marry me,”
That had Jake’s eyes widening. “Damn, Bradshaw, you don’t waste any time, do you?” He asked as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. After a few more seconds he asked, “What did she say?”
Bradley smiled at the memory of you jumping on him in front of everyone on that dock and how he helped erase the previous experience, successfully replacing it with a better one. He wished he had thought to take a picture of you wearing the ring, just so he could have something sweet to look at after all the dirty photos, but he also knew there will be time for that later. “She said yes,”
Jake blew out a huff of breath, nodding afterwards. “That’s great, man,” he didn’t sound too thrilled, but he also didn’t sound too pissed. A quiet grunt of disbelief left him before he said, “Just don’t hurt her again.”
He then moved to lay back on his bed, pushing his bag and letting it land on the floor. “Jake,” Bradley said, his voice more serious than it had been the night they got into that altercation. “I won’t hurt her ever again. I can promise both you and her that. You still don’t give a shit about me, and that’s fine, but we both love her, so we need to learn how to get along. This is my attempt.”
Jake huffed, a bit annoyed at the fact that he knew Bradley was right. “Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered, reaching behind him and resting his head on his hands. “For some reason she seems to actually love you, so I guess she’s about as smart as your dumb ass.”
Bradley laughed, a genuine sound that had Jake holding back a small smile of his own. “Thanks,” he said under his breath. “I mean it, Hangman. I won’t fuck it up again. She’s it for me.”
Jake looked over at him and studied his face for a while, noting just how serious he was. He lets out a sigh before saying, “Alright, man. Stick to that promise and give me a warning when you need the room to yourself for a few hours and we might actually survive the next two months,” he says, continuing when Bradley just laughed, “I’m serious. I’d rather not walk in on you jerking off to whatever sick thought is going through your head.”
Bradley reached into his pocket. “Don’t worry, I won’t be thinking about that kind of thing too much,” he says, holding his phone up and smirking. “That’s what this is for, so I don’t have to think about it.”
Jake looked confused for a second before he clued in to the fact that he was insinuating that you had given Bradley plenty of viewing material. He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tried to fight off a grin. “Fuck, this is going to be a long deployment,”
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