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vxnuslogy · 2 months

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— lost to time ft. sae itoshi

— warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc?

— author's note: a reupload of my favorite work on sae while i finish editing the next 2 chapters of my hazbin series. enjoy!

— first recording

“hi sae! i heard from rin that you’ll be leaving for spain. i’m really sorry i couldn’t come to see you off, i’ve been busy studying, you know, for exams and stuff. but that’s beside the point! i wish you all the best sae! do your best and when you come back home, you better be the world’s best striker yeah? don’t worry, everything will pass by quickly so don’t miss me too much ok?”

sae hated planes. he hated them quite a lot. in was a constant reminder of that time when he was only 14, leaving home to go to spain to live out his dreams only for it to be crushed 4 years later. sae hated the airport, it was always so busy and so stuffy and so cramped. he hated the feeling of being surrounded by unfamiliar strangers, hated the feeling of people brushing up against him even if they didn’t really mean it. sae hated winter. it was the season he severed his bond with his precious little brother after all. it was the season he turned his back on him and it was the season he had wished to never relive again.

— second recording

“hey hey guess who’s sending you another voice message? it’s me obviously, why didn’t you tell me you were back already?! if you did i would’ve picked you up from the airport!

……

is something the matter sae? you haven’t picked up any of your parents’ calls and their really worried about you. you can always talk to me remember? i’ll always be here to listen, ok? don’t bottle everything up, it’ll do more bad than good. well, i have to go now. talk with your parents every once in a while will you? ever since you left for spain you’ve pretty much cut off all contact, even with me. that’s all, good night sae.”

sae didn’t really like flowers. he thought they were a hassle. plants that require specific needs and if not met, they’ll wilt. sae was never fond of them but here he was, standing in front of the counter of a local flower shop as the elderly shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet – filled with carnations, gardenias, lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums.

everything passes.

— college; third recordings

“i got into my dream college sae! can you believe that! honestly, i was really nervous when i took the entrance exams, but thankfully i studied real hard and managed to pass! i’ll be moving into the dorms soon. i’m gonna miss home. oh and rin! i heard he got into a soccer program recently, isn’t that nice! he’s following your footsteps in becoming the best striker in the world. i know, i know, you aren’t a striker anymore but it’s still nice to know that you’re still into soccer at least. by the way, when will you come back home? i kind of miss you, you know. i never got to see you off and when you did come back i was out of town and really busy. what about we plan a meetup or something in the near future? you know, make up for the times we lost? oh, i have to go now! my parents are helping me move in to my dorm. catch you later sae!”

sae didn’t really like coming home. the house he grew up in for the first 14 years of his life felt too foreign to be called home anymore. his parents felt like distant strangers that he just met a couple weeks ago – they felt more like acquaintances than his mother and father. the photos framed around his home felt like ancient relics from thousands of years ago, he didn’t recognize them. sae didn’t recognize himself.

maybe he spent too much time in spain to the point where it felt more like home. how ironic, he began to realize. he had flown back to japan to escape from his hell that was spain but here he was, in his home, in the bedroom he used to sleep in for endless nights, wanting to go back to the place that left his heart hollow.

“there’s nothing else i could do.” he tried to convince himself as he sat down on his childhood bed, the bouquet of flowers at his side. he could only sigh and let himself fall back into the bed of his long gone home. “everything passes.”

“hey hey hey it’s me again! how have you been sae? i’d like to think that i’ve adjusted pretty well in college. made a few new friends and met some old ones. honestly, i almost didn’t recognize them! i mean, do you remember makoto from middle school. he was a such a problem child back then and now look at him! he’s a scholar now! i guess everyone just starts to become more mature after hitting 18, who knows. thank you again, for the gift. i was definitely shocked when my roommate told me i had a package from you. i can’t believe you still remember that i wanted ‘no longer human’! thank you, i’ll be sure to treasure it. well, that’s all for today. call you some other time sae!”

everything passes.

— drunk recordings; the words i wish i could’ve told you sooner

“how do you work this again? ah got it! hehe, hi again sae! i’m at a party right now, man maybe you were right, i do have shit alcohol tolerance. but it’s fine. don’t worry, i’m already on my way home and the driver isn’t some creepy dude that might kill me.

……

you know, i like you very much but i don’t think you’ll believe me. i know i jokingly said that we should marry each other if we aren’t dating someone if we hit our 30s, but i kinda wanna marry you even if we aren’t 30 yet. is that weird? i really miss you. please come home.”

……

“hello? god that was so embarrassing… sorry, could you just forget about what i said in the last recording? um just, gosh i don’t even know. denying it won’t really help right haha… it’s in the past now so don’t mull over too much ok? please, just disregard that last recording. i’m really sorry, it was just me being drunk.”

sae did not in fact disregard that recording. in fact, sometimes in the dead of night he’d think about it and wonder, if he had replied to that specific recording would things have ended differently?

sae didn’t like deep and evoking questions about ‘what if’s’, he finds them annoying most of the time. and yet here he was now entertaining the idea. bouquet in hand as he casually walked around the neighborhood that the both of you had grew up in. the same twists and turns, same houses, same playground, same everything.

yet the silence was too loud, even for him.

everything passes.

— graduation recordings

“well, i think it’s safe to say i survived. i graduated sae, are you proud? man i still can’t believe i was a few point from getting the valedictorian spot but oh well. alls well that ends well i suppose. i heard you won your recent match congratulations mr best midfielder! kinda wish i was there to see it, but don’t worry! in your next match i’ll definitely save up enough money and buy those tickets to spain and your match one day! just you wait, i’ll be the screaming my lungs out and support you, i’m still your number one fan after all!”

sae had some feelings of dissatisfaction when you did not in fact get those tickets to spain and his match. maybe it was his wishful thinking but he really did wish you were there. but he knew it was impossible.

he remembered the feeling of anger and frustration running through his veins, cursing the heavens above because he felt the need to show the gods his emotions. sae hated thinking about you in that moment. he hated how he felt like he was in a new version of hell whenever you just happened to cross his mind. sae hated you very much.

everything passes.

— recordings from 2 years ago

“i’m sorry. i know you should’ve heard it from me but i guess my family beat me to it haha. to be perfectly honest with you sae, i had no plans of telling you. i’m sorry. its just, the thought of breaking the news to you. how could i ever do that to you? i’m sorry. god i’m so sorry sae.”

……

“hey. i received the gift you sent me. you didn’t have to , you know. now i kinda feel bad about having you go on break in the middle of soccer season because of me. but still, thank you. i appreciated you being here, with me. it was a refreshing feeling, talking to you again and just hanging out. work has been really stuffy and felt like i was being caged but you came. you suddenly appeared and suddenly everything was alright again. i know we only said goodbye a couple minutes ago but, i miss you already. sorry. this sounds really weird doesn’t it? anyways, thank you again for the gift. i’ll be sure to wear it everyday. that’s all, have a good night sae.”

……

“hey. sorry for calling at such an odd time. i just. i just felt a little lonely. i sound so stupid i’m sorry. good night sae.”

……

“makoto dropped by today. god he was as annoying as ever but he really cheered me up. he managed to confess to this girl he’s pining over since sophomore year. i’m happy for him. but it really got me thinking about us. i know i told you to forget about that one recording because i was drunk but now that i look back on it, i wasn’t really honest. to you and myself. i know this may be the worst timing to confess but yeah, i like you very much. since primary school, as cliche as it may sound i think it all started when you stood up for me from those bullies. now that i think about, i practically glued myself to your side ever since that day didn’t i? i’m glad you didn’t really mind that. i remember always using homework as an excuse to always have you hang out with me even though i completely understood the lesson. man, where did i get the confidence to do that stuff? but i guess those times are lost in the sands of the past i guess. oh right, sorry, i forgot you didn’t really like those type of stuff. getting all deep and whatnot. well that’s all, i’m getting pretty tired already so i’ll head to bed. good night sae.”

everything passes.

— present

“hi. thank you by the way. i don’t know, i just don’t think i’ve ever said that you recently. so, thank you. its a bit funny isn’t it? i would almost always talk your ear off every recording but this time, i can’t even find the words to say. my parents came over, talked to them a bit. rin visited as well. he’s gotten a lot taller than i last saw him, he’s probably taller than you now!

……

sae, thank you. for everything. i’m glad we stayed in touch. i’m glad we stayed as friends. thank you for making my days seem just a tad bit brighter, though sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we were, you know, dating. wonder what the difference would be. i mean we’d still talk to each other right? maybe holding hands and kisses but that’s pretty much it right? but thinking about it is useless right now. maybe in an alternate universe were actually married and adopted a cat like how we used to talk about.”

“you know, before this very moment. i accepted my fate already. i was content, i was doing fine but now. sae, i don’t want to die.”

“please remember me ok? and i’ll be sure to remember you. i’ll see you again, sae.”

“nii-chan..”

sae could only put his phone back in his pocket. his younger brother standing a good distance away from him. he could only imagine how rin looked like right now. was he pitying him, grieving with him? he’ll never know because he will never turn to look at him. not when your right in front of him.

how many times had he played all your recordings for the past 2 years? maybe a little over a 100 times? maybe close to 200 now?

sae removed all those thoughts as he placed the bouquet on the ground, the wind seemed to answer to his call – you seemed to answer to his call. despite all the pain, all the misery, all the bitter waves of grief that flooded his being whenever he played your recordings, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. he didn’t want to forget what you sounded like. your voice reminded him too much of home.

“happy birthday you idiot.” he said to you, keeping his hands in his pockets, watching the leaves of the flowers in the bouquet sway with the wind. two pieces of paper underneath it threatened to be blown away. “you said you wanted to come visit me and watch my match, well now you can.” two pieces of paper, one a plane ticket to spain the other a ticket to his upcoming match two weeks from now. “you better come watch me alright?” he could only bitterly smile.

“you’re 30 now,” he whispered, before getting on one knee. placing a velvet box in front of your gravestone. “you should’ve waited for me, you idiot.” sae could only mutter those words to no one in particular. it was as if the world had stopped for a moment, the wind had stopped howling, the sun was nowhere to be seen. he could only see you. “i wanted to marry you too, y’know.”

sae could remember every occurrence where he would sit at his balcony in spain every night after your passing. phone to his ear, listening to all your recordings. but you’ll never know how he replies to them, every single one of them with his own.

“i told the stars about you and what we could’ve had.” he chuckled, “you’re by far the hardest lesson i had to learn.”

standing up from his kneeling position, he gave you one last look before walking away. rin followed suit, but not before placing something at your grave. a pink book that you had loved till the very end.

sae hated planes, but he flew back to japan every year. sae didn’t really like flowers, but every year he’d get you a pretty bouquet. sae didn’t like coming home but if it meant getting to visit you, he’d come back over and over again. sae didn’t like reading or any deep and evoking questions but he always humored you whenever you asked him.

sae hated all those things but they reminded him too much of you to let them go.

and just like your favorite author, when osamu dazai asked to die, he simplu agreed; but just before his death, he suddenly felt obsession with life.

everything passes. just like how you’ll eventually get lost in the sands of time.

#✒️ — works #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock angst #bllk angst #sae itoshi angst

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another-goblin · 23 days

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A little analysis of Ratio's owl symbolism. He's absolutely covered (and surrounded) with stylized images of owls. Here are just some examples (feel free to study him to find more). He was even (apparently) supposed to wear an owl mask in an older version of his design. But why.

1. In western culture, owls are traditionally associated with knowledge and wisdom, which indicates his connection with Erudition, as a scientist. That's the most obvious explanation for his owl imagery, and probably the only one intended by the designers. But why stop here. Why not overanalyze it.

2. Owls are known as highly specialized and effective predators. So basically, an embodiment of the Hunt.

Dr. Ratio (about the phase flame): Do you know what to do with cornered prey? Hunt it to the death.

Btw, considering that paths are not just a gameplay convention but the actual in-universe things characters recognize in themselves and others, it's even more ironic that the character who dedicated his whole life to science and education belongs to the Hunt. Because gameplay-wise, the Hunt is the opposite of Erudition. The poor guy couldn't have been further away from Nous even if he tried.

3. Owls are good at being unnoticed. They hunt by hiding, observing, and waiting for the right time to strike. It reminds me of that mission at Herta Station, where we first met him. Most people on the station didn't even know that he was there, even though he personally saved these researchers.

Screwllum (about Ratio's involvement in that mission): …and pulling the strings from behind the curtain is akin to laying down the gauntlet to a genius.

There is a theory that more or less the same thing is happening on Penacony, with most characters probably not knowing that he's even there.

4. The special structure of an owl's wings and feathers makes their flight practically noiseless, so they can approach their prey unnoticed. In addition to point 3, with him moving through Herta station unnoticed, it also reminds me of how he silently disappeared a couple of times in the middle of his conversation with Aventurine.

5. They gave him vertical pupils, probably in an attempt to make his eyes more owl-like. The problem is, I wasn't able to find a single photo of an owl with vertical pupils. They are round. So, if anything, it makes him look more like a cat.

6. And the last point, it's most likely not true, it's my little conspiracy/crack-theory.

But he's sometimes referred to as a Professor; he's as much of an Owl as Aventurine is a peacock. Game, please don't tell me he has nothing to do with Penacony's Professor Owl the origami birds often mention, whoever it is.

In fact, if he wasn't too young for that, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the creation of Dreaworld. Because he mentioned before that taking a bath helps him with going to sleep, and on Penacony you take a bath to go to sleep (what are the chances), and then you enter a world filled with images of owls. It's probably actually nothing, but what a coincidence.

#honkai star rail #my stuff #dr ratio

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idkfitememate · 6 months

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I didn't even think about tiger!!! What about tiger!Creator accidentally running into forest ranger camp and bumping into Collei? Ooh or just wandering in the woods and bumping into kaveh looking for new inspiration for his architecture? Like he would have hired mercenaries to protect him, but he's broke af lol. Or! Or accidentally going into the desert, like maybe chasing something or trying to get something, IDK, anyway they go to the desert and meet Candace and/or Dehya! Like they're just dieing out there in the heat and Candace helps them or something lol. Gah I have so many ideas!! Sorry to bombard you like this haha

I’m gonna do this like how I first introduced Otter!Creator! Hehehe ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

Kaveh was having a fun time. He was just waking about, doing… work… and now there is a tiger behind him :)

… wait.

HOLY SHIT THERE WAS A TIGER BEHIND HIM-

The way Kaveh would scream and leap into the air like a cartoon-

Instead of attacking him you would nuzzle against him and he’d just??? Stand there??? Like “Wtf”????

Honest to the Archons this man has been on his feet all day, hasn’t had a LICK of alcohol in under 30 minutes, he’s tired, so?

He gently pushes your haunches, then your front legs, and lays against your staying form. Nap time :).

Alhaitham has seen a lot in his day. Fought a lot in his day.

But to see his roommate. Cuddled with one of the top causes of death in Sumeru? Yeah you narrowly avoided that sword.

After a little while however (and a mix of you bringing them their work items… and food… and water man these boys can’t take care of themselves-) you were able to gain their trust and now yay! You’re the official house pet of Alhaitham and Kaveh good job!

You run about town with satchels on your haunches and a couple on your legs and pick up things for the house when they can’t (be bothered too-) or when they’re too busy! You also clean… and cook.. omg they’re hopeless honestly.

On more than one occasion you’ve had to lead Kaveh back home when he got drunk, and then you did the same for Alhaitham when he passed out after working for nearly a week no stops somehow. Jesus-

You’re basically their parent at this point. But you get head pats from everyone and babies no longer cry at your presence sooo…. All is well!

Alhaitham, coming home late: 😐

Tiger!Creator, wrapped around a sleeping Kaveh: 🐅😴

Honestly I’m loving all the dynamics between the different creators! Chaotic Boar, pampered Otter, and now parental Tiger lol ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

And don’t be sorry! I love being bombarded! Make me feel loved!~ <3 ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #gn y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Tiger!Creator #anon <3 #asks <3

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nelkcats · 1 year

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And they were roommates

After years of living on his own in the Infinite Realms, something strange began to happen to the retired hero. Every time Danny closed his eyes to sleep, a life that was not his own played in his head. And he began to see memories of someone who had passed away, from his birth to his death. That would be fine if he didn't remember the dreams in such detail.

Unfortunately when the first dream kept repeating itself continuously, and Danny investigated, he discovered that it was not a normal nightmare and was the life of someone real. Someone who wanted a closure.

Every time he woke up, he found himself feeling the same as in the dream. Which led him to do a couple of things: yell at Nocturne (who strangely had nothing to do with it), annoy Clockwork (who was definitely involved), and solve crimes that had been deemed "impossible", and bring them to an appropriate end.

The police were extremely confused when a note from "Sleepy King" was next to the evidence of a cold case. The truth is that Danny wanted to sleep, and the souls were extremely insistent about their 'unfinished business' that came to haunt him in his sleep.

Every time he cracked a case he earned a few hours of uninterrupted sleep or downright disturbing memories, but that wasn't enough. Unfortunately, it seemed that solving the cases was only attracting more souls, and he was starting to regret wanting to help. He had ended his life as a hero for a reason.

Usually his notes to the police would say something along the lines of "I'm doing this for me, not for you, good night" or some similar nonsense. The halfa was tired, very very tired, dreaming with memories wasn't fun or pretty, it was exhausting, the deaths made his skin crawl and his insomnia worse. He didn't want to relive the deaths of anyone else, but he had no way to scare away the souls.

When Martha Wayne showed up in his dreams showing him about a "court of owls" Danny made up his mind. This had to stop. He had been a hero but he retired. And it wasn't that he hated the souls, he just wanted to sleep, the mental exhaustion was too much.

So he did the stupidest thing possible: he hired Constantine (pretending to be a fairly normal human client, getting his attention after offering a lot of alcohol and some useless books from the Realms as payment) to make him a dream catcher or some wizard thing. All he wanted was something to help him sleep.

Constantine couldn't do that of course. The hellbazer was disturbed by the man with more than three hundred avenging spirits swarming. That was fucked up. So he offered him the only solution he could think of: inviting him to sleep at his house. A place where spirits could not pass without permission. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would work for a while.

John had no idea why he was doing so much for a client (inviting him to his house? bold move), but the man looked so desperate, and he was fucking cute. If he could get an adventure or two out of it he wouldn't complain.

Constantine's guest bed felt like heaven to the halfa, despite being almost destroyed. Danny repeatedly thanked, and before they both knew it: they were roomies, lived in the same place, took turns cooking or cleaning, etc. They grew comfortable with each other to the point that Danny answered Justice League Dark's calls on a few occasions.

And well, if Constantine stopped rushing to find a long-term solution that was his business, and his alone, okay? Zatanna's comment asking when he got married was fucking out of place.

#dpxdc #Danny is an adult here #he lived in the Realms #until the souls started to stalk him in dreams #Nocturne offered to help but Danny refused #Clockwork is playing matchmaker and is obvious #Retired hero Danny #The souls wanted revenge #and Danny solved many cases but #he didn't want to live to please others any longer #maybe is selfish but he never asked to be a hero in the first place #dp x dc #dc x dp #Justice League Dark is pretty sure they are married #Constantine is not flirting and that's suspicious #Danny ended investigating the court of owls and Batman had him on sight #Constantine thinks he's just a handsome man #But even if Danny tell him about his ghost part Constantine would think he's sexy #and they were roommates #Asking for Constantine's help is like a sin in the realms but Danny is desperate and the hellbazer deal with curses daily #he was sure John could help somehow #Danny stopped Constantine from being a soulhoe and protected him without John noticing

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frannyzooey · 11 months

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Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off.

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately.

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is.

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you.

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away.

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot.

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip.

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning.

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death.

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands.

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge.

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old.

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared.

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse.

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales.

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending.

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs.

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below.

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything.

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim.

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him.

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth.

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction.

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was.

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing.

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks.

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter.

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information.

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes.

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly.

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight.

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet.

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms.

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge.

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too.

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being.

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving.

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch.

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together.

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay.

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up.

He doesn’t know anything about this.

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold.

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood.

Your face, twisted in pain.

Your face, crying.

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you.

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears.

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside.

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you.

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away.

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you.

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it.

In and out. In and out.

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin.

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach.

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room.

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again.

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it.

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root.

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep.

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away.

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close.

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep.

#joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction

826 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 10 months

Note

Hii! Could you do Gojo + 65, please? But in a made me cry so much I’ll remember this for the next couple days way :)

There you go! This one took me quite a while and to be honest I'm not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think 🖤

55. "I think I might be in love with you."

She is my weakness

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: Even though Satoru never admitted his feelings towards you, everyone is aware of the fact that you are his weakness - a weakness that Suguru gladly uses in order to fullfill his mission. While you are on the brink of death, Satoru realizes just how much you really mean to him.

Warnings: language, hurt, death, injury

Gojo can’t catch his breath, the road to Jujutsu High suddenly feels so long. He got distracted, too distracted to notice that you aren’t there anymore. It wasn’t until someone informed him about the fact that you just disappeared, seconds later a message popping up on his phone.

Don’t worry, she’s with me. Maybe you should hurry up though.

You are a very skilled jujutsu sorcerer, an exceptional talent without special status. Satoru spent so many training sessions with you that he lost count, the only thing remaining in his memory being your mesmerizing smile.

“Why are you laughing? I’m absolutely serious, you almost got me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Satoru, no need to pamper my feelings. Attack me instead!”

Fuck, how did he not notice that you’re gone? You’re always fighting by his side, trusting him blindly. He never allowed himself to lose track of you. Why today, when the name Suguru Geto is written on his display?

This doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a trap, Satoru just knows it. But still he’s on his way to Jujutsu High despite being urgently needed on the battlefront, hands slightly trembling. You are a great jujutsu sorcerer. But not good enough to face Suguru.

“Where is she?”, he yells, six eyes scanning the area around him in order to catch a glimpse of you or Suguru.

“Satoru, long time no see!”

“Where. Is. She.”, Gojo hisses through gritted teeth, blindfold ripped from his fury eyes.

“Woah, easy Satoru. Did you really just leave everyone else alone in order to save your little girlfriend from getting killed? That doesn’t look like you at all.”

“I make the world my enemy if it means saving her.”

You aren’t his girlfriend, the two of you never spoke about having a serious relationship with each other. He held you in his arms when you weren’t able to sleep, hands always brushing against each other when walking side by side, the two of you exchanging secret glances at each other all the time.

There’s no point in hiding it from himself any longer. Satoru is hopelessly in love with you since he first laid eyes on you and heard your angelic laugh. And the fact that Suguru put his dirty hands on you kills him from the inside.

“How touching. Too bad that she’s already dead. I have to say she fought very brave, tried to save your puny students from getting killed only to get stabbed herself. How self-sacrificing, how heroic.”

The world around Satoru collapses. You, dead? No, that’s not possible. Not even Suguru would dare to kill a skilled jujutsu sorcerer like yourself.

“Well, maybe she isn’t exactly dead already. I give you two options: Fight against me or save her. It’s up to you. See ya!”

And with that, he’s gone in the wind.

“Maki, Toge, Panda, Yuta, get out of the way. I’ll handle this.”

The confidence and rage in your voice had your students step aside immediately. You should have known that Suguru is here for Yuta, you should have realized it way sooner. There was no time or chance to inform Satoru about it. You gripped your katana tightly, eyes glistered in determination. You aren’t dumb, it is crystal clear that you aren’t able to defeat Suguru. But it is your job to defend your students, especially Yuta.

“Come on little (y/n), being Satoru’s girlfriend doesn’t make you the strongest. It doesn’t work like that. Both you and I know that this ends in blood.”

“I don’t need to be the strongest in order to distract you until he gets here.”

You fought back, over and over your blade crushed into another curse, you didn’t even stop when blood clouded your vision, whole body on fire from the countless wounds he has inflicted on you.

Is this really how you are supposed to die? Pictures of Satoru flooded your mind. You should have told him how you feel, that he makes your days better and your smile brighter. You noticed your feelings a long time ago, too afraid to lose a good friend by confessing. Now your words will forever be unsaid, he will never know how you truly felt. Your lips begin to tremble, eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry Satoru”, you whisper to yourself.

One last hit. A scorching pain. Then everything went black.

Satoru is aware of the fact that Suguru wants Yuta and nothing else, that you and the others have to be alive. Yuta can stand his ground until he has brought you to Shoko, back into safety. You simply can’t die without knowing about his true feelings, without knowing that you are way more than a simple friend to him and that he wants nothing more than to be by your side. If there’s a slight chance to safe you he’ll take it, fuck everything else. But firstly, he needs to find you and his students.

Maki’s and Toge’s bodies are plastered on the ground, seriously injured but alive – nothing that Shoko can’t fix. Sounds of battle begin to penetrate Gojo’s ears. So Yuta is still fit enough to stand against Suguru, huh? What an impressive kid.

His heart drops immediately when catching a glimpse of your body on the other side though. God, you are so covered in crimson that the color of your uniform is almost unrecognizable. Limb over limb, as if you just fell to the ground. Lifeless, drained, on the brink of death.

Satoru sprints towards you, ice cold sweat dripping down his face. He presses his fingers against your neck, praying to god that your heart is still beating, that there is a slight chance of you being saved by Shoko.

He has never seen you like this. Of course you were injured in missions from time to time, but the worst wound you ever had was a laceration on your forehead. No wonder, your fighting technique is very advanced after all, you spent so many hours training your ass off. But still…But still you are laying to his feet, Satoru’s shaky hands covered in your blood.

This simply can’t be true. He could never understand how Suguru could go down this path, Gojo’s last straw of his dignity being that he’d never hurt a jujutsu sorcerer or member of Jujutsu High. Why are you laying here, heartbeat almost gone and breath nothing more than a light breeze in the wind?

“Fuck!”, he yells, fists slamming into the hard ground until blood spills.

You can’t die like that, not after all the two of you have been through, not until he was able to at least tell you about his feelings.

“You might be the honored one, that doesn’t change the fact that pizza is better than burgers though. So sorry to break it to you, Satoru.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, (y/n)! Are you brainwashed? Maybe I should call Shoko, let me check!”

Your heartfelt laughter echoes through the room and Gojo’s core, hands halfheartedly fighting off his tickle attack. You are so beautiful when you shake in laughter, eyes squeezed tight until tears of joy spill out of them, your soft hands sending shivers down his spine.

“S-Satoru, please stop!”, you cry out and surrender in his arms.

Out of instinct you lay your head against his chest and close your eyes for a sweet moment. Oh, how delicious he smells, how much you love to be held like this. Your heart almost beats out of your chest when Satoru wraps his arms around you, pressing you even closer to his beating heart.

The words are hanging on his lips, it would be so easy to just tell you that he loves every little thing about you. Why does his mouth suddenly feel so fuzzy, why is all he can do stare at you in awe? Fuck, you are so lovely, he doesn’t deserve you.

“(y/n) I-… I think I might be in love with you!”, he blurts out, fists clinging onto your soaked uniform, tears glistering in his bright orbs.

If you will even survive the way to Shoko? He has to try. After all, he is the honored one. If he isn’t able to save you then no one will be? Fuck Suguru, fuck this whole useless battle. He can’t lose you today.

As gentle as possible, he picks you up in his arms, your lifeless head propped against his chest. Why does your body feel so cold? Why does the blood not stop running? Fright swallows Gojo completely, the thought of losing you getting realer and realer. Why were you here anyway? Maybe all of his student would have died if you weren’t so damn brave. You must have found out that Suguru is here. Fuck, why are you always caring about others and sacrifice yourself like that? Why didn’t you call him?

His hand caresses your face softly, tears now completely taking his sight. Because this is you, because this is exactly why he loves you so damn much.

It doesn’t take him long to get to Shoko, but it still feels like an eternity.

“Shoko, please help her!”, he yells over the constant conversations, voice completely immersed in pure horror.

Oh no, not you. Shoko pales in an instant when taking in your sight. This doesn’t look good, to be exact it looks absolutely terrible.

Satoru’s trembling arms lay you down on a makeshift sickbed, Shoko immediately by your side.

“How the hell did this happen? (y/n) is the only one apart from you that never gets hurt”, she comments while inspecting your multiple severe wounds.

“Suguru invaded Jujutsu High unnoticed despite the curtain. She must have found out. My students are there, (y/n) saved their asses from getting killed”, he explains briefly, gaze completely fixated on you and the way your chest dimly rises and falls.

“I’m gonna be honest to you, this looks totally awful. She is barely breathing and her heartbeat is way too weak. I’m trying my best but maybe…Maybe you should stay here with her, Satoru.”

It’s like the world around him is collapsing when Shoko’s words confirm his worst nightmares. You could die, right here right now. And you would die without knowing how much you really mean to him, that you are way more than just a colleague or a friend to him.

“I never told her”, he mutters, hands clinging onto yours for dear life.

“You don’t have to. Some things don’t need to be said.”

As if in trance, Gojo follows the movements of Shoko’s hands that are busy trying to save your life.

“What about the others?”

“Maki, Panda and Toge are injured but alive. Yuta is facing Suguru at the moment.

“Do you think he can handle this?”

“Sure, I’ll go back as soon as soon as (y/n) is out of danger.”

So there he sits. Seconds, minutes and hours passing by as all he can do is stare at you and watch Shoko stitching you up. You look like you’re sleeping peacefully, ready to get shaken awake by Satoru. He can’t help but stare and take in your striking features. Your face isn’t cute by any means. No, you are attractive in a more dangerous way, a woman that turns heads on the streets no matter what she wears. A woman that wraps men around her finger with one little glance. A woman that knows what she wants and how she gets it. You are treacherous and unattainable. There’s no greater feeling than seeing other men contort themselves after you as it is him that walks beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“You know that I can take care of men myself, do you?”

“Sure, but I just can’t resist.”

Little did you know that he dies to hold you in his arms and show everyone that you are his, that none of these douchebags will ever touch you like he does. Oh, how much he enjoys your attention on him, if he could he would spend every second of the day with you.

“Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello!”

“Satoru, why do you have to wake me up this early? And even more important: How did you get in my room?”, you groaned, still a slight grin plastered on your face.

“Nothing easier than breaking in here! Did you forget we have a rendez-vous today, sleepyhead?”

“Yeah, for training. In 3 hours”, you reply dryly.

“Oh, must’ve forgotten about that.”

“Or maybe you just wanted to see me”, you teased him, your very own heart beating out of your chest while waiting for his reply.

“Can’t say anything against that”, he admits.

Now he can’t wake you up this easily. You’re still not moving, eyes staying rested at all times.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I’m the strongest but couldn’t prevent her from getting this beaten up”, he mutters, drunken gaze never leaving you.

“Every power has its limits. Suguru just seemed to have a good plan on hand and knew that she’ll come as soon as the students are in danger. That’s just how (y/n) is. You cannot influence that”, Shoko replies, her skilled fingers completely occupied by working their ways through your countless wounds.

“It’s all my fault. Suguru knew she is my weakness and that I won’t come after him when her life is in danger.”

“Stop talking shit, if she could hear you she’d probably punch you in the face for that. (y/n) isn’t helped by doubting yourself.”

Satoru buries his face in his hands, tears swelling up his eyes once more. None of this should have happened. You should have called and told him about it. You should have told him that you are in danger. Why do you have to be so suborn, so fucking brave, probably saving his students from death while risking your own life? God, he hates you for this. But also…this is exactly why he adores you so much. No, why he loves you so much. Why do you have to be on the brink of death for him to realize that you are so much more than just a friend to him?

“Satoru?”

His name. His name came out of your mouth. Satoru’s heart feels like a jackhammer inside his chest, shaky fingers intertwining with yours. God, you opened your eyes, you talked. You…you are alive.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

“Suguru is at Jujutsu High.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, eyelids hanging heavy in your blood-smeared face.

“I know, darling. I picked you up from there. If you scare me like that again I’ll kill you”, Satoru jokes with tears glistering in his eyes, smiling over your concern about the others even though you almost died yourself.

“Satoru…I-I love you. Couldn’t die without telling you that.”

His hand tenderly strokes your bruised cheek, relief filling his whole body, absolutely enchanted by your sweet words. You love him. You, (y/n) really love him. Is he dreaming? Can this really be true? For years, all he could think about was you, you are the only woman that turns his head. And now you’re telling him that you are in love with him?

“Let me hear that again.”

“I won’t say it again until you say it back”, you reply, smiling widely.

“I love you too, (y/n). Was just too dumb to realize I guess.”

“Listen, I don’t want to interrupt your moment here, but (y/n) needs to rest and you need to look after Yuta", intervenes, still occupied by treating your wounds.

“Did you leave your students alone with Suguru?”, you ask in shock.

“Hehe, you need to rest now.”

And with that you watch as the man you love more than the entire earth disappears with one last look in your eyes. He saved your life that day. But not only that, after all these years he is finally yours. Maybe almost dying wasn’t so bad after all.

795 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 8 months

Text

Guessing Game

My lovely little Ghost pregnancy not short Drabble.

Word Count: 7.7k

- - -

Moments of silence with your husband were usually tranquil and serene in the comforts of your own home. It was rare for the aura between you both to be fueled with unbridled tension and hesitation to even breathe properly.

The two of you said nothing for the longest time in the sanctuary of your living room, on your comfortable couch. In the silent man’s hand, he held a test, which he proceeded to set down on the coffee table in front of him.

Positive.

A little pink sign on a tiny screen, bright as day, staring at you both like a sore thumb.

That’s supposed to be a good thing, Positives usually mean good things. Happy, joyful, erratic, exciting. Good.

Positives however, can also be scary, terrifying, petrifying.

Your heart sank deep into the bottom of your stomach, a dreadful ache following suit that lingered as every minute passed in this silence.

You hated it, but you didn't know what to say.

It started off as an odd feeling, just a couple of days ago. A bit of dizziness in the morning, a slight queasiness after, but nothing more. You blamed it on allergies, or a migraine due to lack of proper sleep, anything but that single, simple idea of what it could’ve been.

The signs grew more unquestionably obvious with every day passed, the sickness, the shift in your emotions, the sinking feeling as the possibility grew more and more intense with each passing hour.

You went out during a grocery run, and couldn't stop yourself from arriving at a pharmacy, heading towards that one particular aisle containing just what you needed.

You didn’t even know when or how-

You stopped yourself right there. You’d be an absolute fool if you considered finishing that thought for a sentence.

You know how it happened, of course you knew. Question was, you couldn’t exactly remember when. It sort of happened quite often.

Just for good measure, you had also bought three other boxes, which were currently jumbled in your bathroom sink, each revealing the same exact message.

A part of you, a tiny part of you, buried underneath all the stomach burning anxiety and dread of this new onset reality was kind of delighted, excited in fact, bringing forth upon you a wish you never realized you’d forgotten about. One you believed you had no right to have after the life you lived.

To have a baby with the man you loved, truly loved. A fair amount of the population’s absolute dream.

An honest, beautiful dream, but for all you knew, it was only yours. At one point, not once did you ever think if it was his dream as well.

That was until a few weeks ago once it was brought up, during a late-night discussion in bed.

“How do you feel about a baby?”

An honest, curious question had never made the man stiffer in his life, feeling his hands on you grow stiff like dead branches before he released you, catching you completely by surprise.

The both of you were stable, financially at least. Emotionally however, all that bustled through Simon’s head were the great cons that outweighed the pros.

An honest, simple question turned into a forty-minute discussion over both your heavy worries and concerns. His concerns, his fears, his terror of bringing a version of himself to this dangerous, unpredictable world of chaos and death, bred by the man who enjoyed creating such.

You reassured him constantly, by then just wishing to end the topic then and there. An honest question grew too harshly awkward, painfully dragged out at the realization that Simon may not have wanted children at all.

It was a thorn you shouldn’t have pricked your finger on, so you were content to step back and let the topic go.

Simon’s face, brows contorted with distress still, realized your ache at this discussion. You didn’t wish to scare him, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you, which was exactly what he was doing.

When it came to you, his heart softened at the reality of you being the doe eyed mother of his child, born with your love and beauty, your charisma and valor. A headstrong boy or girl with a mother like you to guide them along the way, this world lacked that kind of bond in the places no one dares to check.

“Is this something you want?” Simon finally speaks his mind, concerned over what was going through yours.

Immediately, you begin to release everything, slowly listing out a series of options that came to the top of your head, ones he wasn't expecting to hear. Going to a clinic, figuring out your options, that sort of thing if he didn’t want the baby.

Simon immediately stops you from speaking further.

“Forget about me for just a second,” Simon states, realizing he may have come off too harshly on this matter towards you, potentially giving you the wrong idea.

“What about you?” He asks in a calm, softened tone. Me?

“Is this something you want?”

You hesitate, glancing everywhere but him as your fingers clench at the bedsheets.

His hand takes yours, his other lightly sweeping through your hair. “Tell me the truth. I won’t force this on you.”

You look him in the eyes, those eyes you absolutely adored.

Oftentimes, you hear him say he doesn’t deserve you, but sometimes you can’t help but find him adorable for him being blatantly unaware of when you think in vice versa to this.

His consideration on your behalf melted your heart to its very core.

“I’ve always wanted this, Simon.” You admit, unable to hold back the tears as you look down.

“At one point in my life, I never even thought of it, but lately… “ You huffed out a weak laugh, wiping your soaked cheeks with the back of your fingers.

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but there’s so many worries I have.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“If I’d even be a good mom,” you proceeded, the tears continuing to fall. “If I could even take that responsibility, if the man I thought I’d marry when I wanted to grow up would be there alongside me all the way and have a cute little family.”

The dreadful worries began to crowd your head, much against your better judgment. If you’d carry them to full term, if Simon would stay the entire way, if he second guessed and didn’t want the baby any longer, or if something happened to the baby?

He holds you close, cradling your head close. Softly, he hushed against your forehead, his nose pressed against the crown of your hair.

“But, what if you don’t want-“ you proceeded, feeling his head shake against your head.

“No,” he stops you. “Don’t say that, love.”

He goes quiet, growing lost in his thoughts as you continuously sniffle, patiently wiping your eyes repeatedly. His comforting hug felt so stiff, so foreign, so tense. You always melted in his embrace, but the hesitation that flooded your bones prevented you from doing so.

“I don’t know if I can hold that responsibility of bein’ a good father.” He brings himself to admit, a personal truth that hurts even him to exhale it. Maybe it’s the shock still setting in that makes him say this, but it's still pure, brutal honesty.

Your heart sinks at those words. Even if you were to try to convince him that you could physically see him pacing around a pink or blue tinted nursery, swaddling a baby in his broad arms, he’d never see it that way, feeling himself incapable of clutching something so delicate and pure in his hands.

Never did he see himself being a good father, compared to the life he had, but your words gave him a bit of an epiphany.

If the man you wanted to marry during your childhood’s hopeful dreams was going to remain to help raise a beautiful child and have a happy family, that didn’t mean you’d be doing it alone. He’d take on this role, and he wanted to stay beside you, regardless of it all.

A child with your eyes sounded wonderful. It was interesting really, you were thinking the exact same about him, the excitement and anxiety deep down in both your stomachs still.

“But I want to try,” Simon admits, holding your hands securely in his.

- - -

“Can we start this over?” You spoke up, breaking through this painfully tense silence you’ve felt unable to sit through for a second longer.

He quietly nodded, watching you rise up, plucking the test from the coffee table before walking out of the living room.

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, feeling your fingers trembling as your nerves refused to settle.

This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. You wanted to surprise him in some cuter, more innocent way, but he had caught you completely by surprise as you opened the bathroom door, finding Simon standing on the other side.

Seeing his head tilt down and catch a glimpse of that test immediately destroyed every possible opportunity to surprise him, though you knew it was something you couldn’t be disappointed at forever.

Taking a calm breath, you gather up all the excitement you could muster in your body before turning around, quickly heading back towards the living room entryway.

Before you could muster a word, you were met with a strong wall of warm, black shirt clad muscle, your husband enveloping you in his broad arms, clutching you like his only saving grace.

Simon heard your laugh erupt from your lips, this sudden gesture catching you by surprise as you hugged him back, feeling your feet lift off the floor once you secure your arms around his neck.

With your happiness came tears, joining in with your wide smile. Simon’s eyes glistened with pure, raw emotions, consisting of adoration and raw, unfiltered love the second he looked into your eyes before flooding you with passionate kiss after kiss.

He was scared though. He would always be scared, but for now, he turned his walls into open gates, allowing you to flood his very being with warmth and light, feeling the happiest he’s ever been, following second to his proposal to you.

“A little you,” he muffled against your lips after kissing you for a final time.

“A little you,” you repeated with a giggle.

“With those pretty eyes of yours.” You whisper up to him, grazing your free hand against his cheek once he set you down.

“Christ save me if it has your attitude,” He mutters against your forehead before placing another kiss on it, forcing a snort from your nose in amusement.

That night, he brought you flowers and your favorite chocolates, promising to take you out to eat at your favorite restaurant the next evening. Even after all this time, he still wasn’t a fan of public places, but this was such a celebration, he would do it all in the name of you.

5 weeks.

It wasn’t enough for an ultrasound worth seeing to check for something exciting beyond the size of a pearl or rice grain, but now there was something here. Someone there, and it would soon rely on the two of you to protect it, to love and cherish it.

This would mean you would have to be away from your military lifestyle, taking on this new role while Simon continued on with his. You had to admit you were jealous, especially as the wave of maternal thoughts continuously reminded you of this new position.

With this blessing came so many worries. Simon would have to continue his lifestyle, meaning he’d be gone for long periods of time. How could you cope exactly with this? What would happen, especially after the baby was born?

Maybe you were just thinking ahead.

Only time would really tell if you were true to your word of physically and mentally preparing for it.

Your only regret for the moment was not preparing an adorable pregnancy reveal surprise for him, though time will tell if you have a chance to make up for it.

- - -

You were craving s’mores, but not just any s’mores.

You were dying for that crispy, burnt marshmallow taste, but despised the idea of smoke from a campfire, your nose suddenly souring at the thought, and the rainy weather outside had been unforgiving these past few weeks.

You’ve taken to baking a lot lately these past few evenings, scattered along the last few weeks, keeping your area lit up with the warm stovetop light, melding perfectly with the cozy ambience of your kitchen.

Your kitchen had been your experiment room, your science lab, smelling of rich chocolate and burnt marshmallows as you set your clear glass pan onto a heat protected surface, closing your oven with a gloved hand.

A Graham cracker crust, a rich, fudgy brownie filling, and marshmallow fluff that toasted delightfully on top, thanks to the broiler in your oven.

They were just a more aesthetically pleasing version of slutty brownies, delicious looking ones at least.

21 weeks in, the changes were growing ever so obvious. Your abdomen grew a bit plush, but still thankfully secured under the sanctuary of Simon’s gray t-shirt.

Since you woke up this morning, all you craved was brownies. But fuck it, it was a better craving than something sick, like ice cream and soy sauce, or some other horridly confusing craving you discovered other pregnant women had.

Don’t even bother trying it.

“You gonna finish it this time?” Simon piqued as he stood at the other end of your kitchen counter, watching you cut into this delectable creation, hearing the crunch of the graham crackers as fudgy chocolate and gooey marshmallow clung to your knife from the cut.

It was in the oven for about fifty minutes, but the possibility of raw eggs was nothing compared to the amount of sugar in this invention. At the very least, he made sure you had eaten proper, healthier food throughout the day until now, so satisfying this craving wouldn’t truly hurt every now and then.

“Of course, I will,” you looked up at him after plating four sizable slices on the plate, bits of melted marshmallow coating your fingers of your opposite hands. “You think this is all just for me? You’ve wanted s’mores just as much as I have.”

You tilted your head to the stove, gesturing towards the kettle that whistled for attention during your discussion. “I want some of that earl grey tea too, please.”

You say that because he usually doesn’t drink sweetened tea with his desserts, that was his given fancy. Plain tea cuts through the sweetness perfectly.

“Alright, as long as you only eat two of those. That much sugar will drive you up the damn walls.” Simon mentioned while gathering two mugs from the top cupboard, setting them on the counter.

“Bite me, Riley.” You muttered in amusement, clutching hold of the tray with a still gloved hand while making the final cuts to your dessert.

“I have. Can still see it from here, love.” His voice trailed into your ear from behind you as he passed by, his form lightly, yet innocently brushing along your backside to get the earl grey from another cabinet.

You smiled, a tint of color flushing your cheeks as you licked the remnants off the side of the knife before placing it in the sink.

It was silly, really. With sugar, came the surge of arousal. Hormones really loved to mess with your mind and turned you from his ever doting, needy little wife into his ever doting, needy little wife. It was a tough price to pay.

Tough price to pay indeed.

- - -

“Once this baby sees you, an’ once it touches your skin, they’ll see you as their entire perfect world.” His lowered tone rumbled deliciously from his throat, trailing along the skin of your neck in a similar fashion to his hands.

“You’ll be a wonderful little mother.” He mutters this promise to you, this elegant truth, whether your mind allows it to be believable or not.

Simon’s soothing words mumbled along the shell of your ear, his arms secured around you like a shield of comfort, more secure than any soft blanket after being tossed in the dryer.

You were fresh out of a warmed bath, warm enough to sleep in without being scalding, scented with your favorite bath soaps and oils, turning you into a glistening queen as he sat beside the tub to keep you company, talking about anything and everything to your heart’s content until the water was bordering the edges of lukewarm and cold.

You seemed more concerned over how you appeared as time passed, as if Simon would ever view you any less than desirable. He didn't understand this sudden change in attitude at first, viewing you as nothing more than a diamond after spending decades trapped in coal. Pure, utter perfection bred from years of mind melding pressure from the eyes of the world.

Scars or not, your changing body was gorgeous to him, going through a beautiful process to nurture your growing child.

Simon’s war weathered hands worked wonders along your skin, massaging along your shoulders down to your legs, working the muscles that would eventually grow swelled with time. He never minded this, knowing you’d deserve everything you deserve and more for this laborious task of carrying his child.

Old Friends of yours, and the internet of course, recommended that moisturizing was key during pregnancy, to combat those stretch marks.

The sweet almond oil was merely a plus, as well as the vanilla scented cocoa and shea body butter you used to seal in the moisture. You glistened like an absolute goddess, perfuming his dreams as he cradled you close at night.

It was even working on him, his hands always felt a little bit softer after such a routine each evening.

“An’ before you know it, our little kid will be drinkin’ their tea through their sippy cups.”

A small smile tickled the corners of your lips, a short, amused snort leaving your nose from the comment.

There it was, that smile that Simon adored so much.

A part of him knew that this wouldn’t be the last time these raging hormones would drag you down, but what good was a husband if not an anchor to your worries and concerns?

- - -

“Just one sip?”

“No.”

“But Si-“

“No.” Came his firm reply yet again, all while reading through today’s mail.

Wine. You wanted wine. You craved it desperately, but you couldn’t have it.

Whatever idiotic, controversial topic you had read off your phone or heard from one of your girlfriends was something he wished he could rip from your head and shove it back to where it belonged.

He knew you liked wine, particularly sweet ones, and was aware you had very well missed it, but regardless, he was dreadfully against it.

He cut back on cigarettes for his baby, so like hell any single drop of alcohol was going to touch your tongue, even if it was just for a taste.

Simon got you sparkling grape cider after you spent two days complaining, but it wasn’t the same. Who cares? It was sweet and didn’t have alcohol.

“But the doctor said-“

“The bloody doctor’s not here, is he?!” Simon’s voice raised instantly, leaving you stunted as he glared at you from the corner of his eye. Like hell you were going to use that no-good doctor’s words as an excuse.

You groaned, rolling your head back before stomping out of the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Riley!” You shouted at him from down the corridor before shutting yourself in the bedroom.

“Love you as well,” he mutters, gathering the ripped open envelopes in his hands.

The silly stories of men being concerned, if not frightened for their wives’ outbursts sounded absolutely absurd. If anything, he tried his very best to hold back any sign of amusement, any twitch of a smile or accidental huff of laughter at how adorable you looked being irritated over something you couldn't have.

It’s not the worst he’s seen you before, but thinking that now, he wasn't sure if he was speaking too soon.

You’ll get over it.

- - -

“You’ll be a wonderful father, Simon.” You reassured him, remaining by his side as a subtle roar of thunder echoed in the horizon from miles away.

30 weeks, 30 weeks and the broad, physical changes started to set in.

The bump stretched through most of his shirts, but you were more than content to be comfortable in his black hoodie. You found him after dinner outside after he had done the dishes, leaning on his crossed arms against the porch fence, a lit cigarette in his hand as he took in the storm’s afterglow ambience.

You rubbed his forearm soothingly, settling your hand against his open palm as his fingers relaxed from the touch of yours.

You knew he still struggled with the new mentality of this reality.

Every day, you saw it flash across his eyes once or twice a day, leading him to disappear every so often for minutes at a time to gather his bearings. Ten minutes grew into thirty, evolving into him remaining on your front porch for an hour, watching the rain fall merely inches in front of his face.

“I never saw myself bein’ a father,” he admits slowly after such a long silence, his lowered tone almost muffled by the storm.

You nod to his confession, despite the burn in your heart to hear it.

He says this due to his mother’s words, an echo of a memory voicing through his thoughts from so long ago.

“He’s your father and there’s always gonna be a piece of him in you.”

The thought alone was more terrifying than his fear of you going into labor if he wasn’t around.

If the bastard was alive, he’d make sure he’d stay dead in a ditch far from society, making it impossible for him to ever learn of his child’s name, preventing him from even mentioning it in crude vain.

“But seein’ you like this,” He continues on, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, “Seeing you carry my child, our child I mean, made me realize exactly why.”

You nodded slowly again, feeling a bit more considerate to his truth. He didn’t need to voice it, for it was a truth you’d known for quite a long time. You didn’t need to know a cruel, heatless man to understand that your husband was nothing of the sort, not by a long shot.

“You’re not your father, Simon.” You squeeze his hand as you say these words, feeling his gaze trail to yours.

“You know not what to do, how not to act, and I know it's not going to be easy, but I’m here too,” You gently encourage him, trying your best to keep hopeful for him to see what you saw.

“We’ve got each other, right? And like you said, once they see you, they’re gonna view you as the perfect father.”

Simon wondered how he got so lucky to have a woman like you in his life, sporting a gentle love he had only known from his mother.

Stepping away from the railing, Simon lowered his hand along the smooth fabric shielding your belly. Smoothing his palm against it, his eyes followed your fingers as they trailed along his inked tattoos, mindlessly swirling over the patterns as you stepped closer to him.

“We should get ready for bed. Now come inside, I’m not supposed to be breathing this stuff in.” You softly say to him, meeting his nod as he chucked out the cigarette towards the puddles of mud out in the yard, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You chose to come out here.”

“Because my husband needed his wife and child to remind him how much we love him.”

- - -

“What is that?” You ask from the entryway to the kitchen the next morning, lured in by a new scent melding with the usual aroma of ground coffee and toast.

“Food.” He curtly replied, standing in front of the stove.

The fragrant, slightly spicy smell was delightful to you, but you weren’t sure about what it was. You had an idea, but you dreaded what it could’ve been. Maybe that’s why your husband stood the way he did at the stove, purposely blocking your view from the pan.

“Simon, what is it?” You asked again, your curiosity getting the better of you.

His head craned a little, sparing you a glance over his shoulder, seeing you slightly hidden behind the wall. “You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me what it is.”

“Black pudding.”

“Oh.” The contorted face you made immediately confirmed your views on it.

“Want to try?” Simon offered as he glanced back towards the pan.

“No.” He expected that response. You were content with everything he enjoyed in a full English breakfast except that, everything but that.

“Y’sure?” He piqued while plating both your foods, setting the pan back on the stove before setting one of the plates down on the table. He motioned for you to sit with a tilt of his head, watching you hesitantly approach.

He plated the so-called monstrosity on both your plates, knowing very well you couldn’t deny the hunger, despite being well aware of your thoughts for it. Won’t like it until you try, at least.

“Why does it look like that?” Your nose almost scrunched at it as you sat down.

“Cause it’s made with blood, love.” Simon states while filling up two mugs with hot beverages. “Good for ya.”

The look you gave him made it almost impossible to hide a smile any longer.

“Won’t disappear the longer you keep starin’ at it,” Simon chimed after watching you prod at your eggs once he sat down.

“Why’d you do this to me?’ You looked at him with a bit of a pout, frowning at his held back smirk as you proceeded to put your portion onto his plate. Christ, you’re like a little child with steamed veggies.

“Cause it smells good, yeah?” Damn him for knowing that.

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Won’t cause harm in tryin’ it,” Peering back down at his plate, he worked at his own helping, hopefully taking this opportunity to change your mind on what he viewed as essential to an english breakfast.

“Here.” He offered a tiny amount on the tip of a fork to you. You hesitated, your head retching back like a kid avoiding a foul-tasting medicine.

It looked so horrid to you, even if it did look like charred, sliced sausage, but it smelled incredible.

“C’mon, or I’ll keep ya at the table.”

He sounded so strange when he teased, his jokes as terrible as this blood pudding appeared. Nevertheless, you opened your mouth, accepting the food.

“It’s spicy.” You mutter as you chew slowly. By now, Simon couldn't hold back his amusement any longer, watching you swallow before glancing back at your plate, particularly towards the now vacant spot beside the tomatoes.

“Still hungry?” He pried.

You nodded. There were many other tasty options for you right in front of you, but as you picked up your fork, you refrained from selecting anything else.

“What do you want?” He questioned after noting your continued silence.

“That.” You muttered almost shamefully.

“What?”

“That.” You craned your head to motion at the black pudding still on his plate.

A fraction of a smirk formed on his face as he placed it back onto your plate, a low chuckle leaving him. “Good, right?”

“I guess.” You shrugged before putting a more sizable piece in your mouth, almost looking ashamed to eat it.

You weren’t ashamed for eating a peanut butter sandwich with pickle slices in it. How is this worse?

It was truly amusing, if you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t even be in the kitchen at this very moment.

“This a new craving now?” Simon couldn't help asking midway through you popping another piece in your mouth, hearing you muffle in agreement while covering your mouth.

“Our little one’s a true Brit now, yeah?”

“Don’t say that ever again.” You chuckled into your hand, cutting another sizable piece with your fork. Simon couldn’t be more amused and ever so happy that you were his wife and mother to his child.

- - -

The anxiety of the small baby shower that was soon to happen later on in the day prevented you from getting a good night’s rest, so you settled to do your favorite little hobby: baking, at six in the morning.

Specifically, making specialty cupcakes for the party.

Usually, you would’ve used boxed mix for that quick fix, but in this case, you did what you called “doctoring up” the cake mix.

An extra egg, swap the amount of water for milk, and use the good vanilla paste from Mexico.

He walked in on you shutting the oven after checking on the baking goods, the warm vanilla swirling deliciously in the air alongside fresh brewed coffee, lightly fogging up the kitchen window in front of the sink.

Six months.

Six months went by so terribly fast. With every passing day, you beamed with motherhood soon to come, spending your days as comfortable and as lazily as possible.

Those cupcakes would soon eye him every time he opened the fridge later today, making the mystery of the truth grow all the more curious in his head.

Only you knew the true gender, a secret you guarded very well the moment you two were alone after the doctor’s visit.

“You’re banned from the kitchen once I start frosting, you know.” You spoke up, showing him a little smile as you pulled out multiple sticks of butter from the fridge, setting them on the warm stove so they’d come to room temperature faster.

“More concerned for you walkin’ around half asleep.” He approached you, watching you huff and shake your head. “I’m fine-”

“Now now, don’t wanna hear any of it.” Simon gently takes you in his arms from behind, feeling you sigh against his chest before relaxing in his embrace.

Slowly, he trailed his hands down over your belly, cradling the underside of your swollen, unborn child.

His favorite activity, his most cherished act to do during his pastime, regardless of where the two of you were, was to hold them. To rest his hands along where he imagined little hands would press, or little feet that would kick back against.

He’d lightly rest his head against the side of your tummy in silence, feeling your fingers comb through his hair as you watched with content, seeing his facial muscles relax, his brow lowering in various thoughts of how their child would look like. These silly, innocent little thoughts always lulled him to sleep, temporarily banishing any and every harsh, dark thought that threatened to overtake him.

“You sure you wanna do this?” You softly ask, hinting towards the baby shower later this evening.

The baby shower was a shared idea between you and Kate’s wife, who began calling a few times a week to check up on you, taking a sort of maternal role on your behalf, providing a fair amount of support without being overbearing.

He was never one for parties. Public parties, anything that involved more than five people at least. But he knew all who were arriving and worked alongside most of them through thick and thin, they may as well be a sort of second family.

Simon had stepped plenty out of his comfort zone alongside you these past few months, doing grocery runs with you, eating out when neither of you felt like cooking, attending local events so you didn't feel cooped up in the house too often, despite Simon’s silent persistence that he would’ve preferred you to remain at home, except for the occasional doctor’s visit.

This baby shower will be here at home, a nice little event where everyone can have fun and bring the baby gifts. After learning what it meant, he couldn’t rob you of that experience.

“I’ll be alright,” He settles your worries, taking a gentle hold of your shoulders to guide you towards the door. “You need rest, love. Get a few hours to yourself, I’ll wake you for your breakfast.”

“Wait,” You tried to stop your steps, despite Simon insisting you continue walking forward.

“Make sure the cupcakes are taken out after fifteen minutes-”

“Will do.”

“And just set them on the-”

“Heat proof pans,” Simon confirmed, “I know. Go get your rest, love.”

- - -

You’ve never seen Simon so relaxed after a delicious dinner, sitting with most of the men in the living room, sharing a couple of beers, the good beers that Soap had brought for the party, conversing happily over various topics and stories, catching up after some lost time.

Through every shared chuckle, every change in subject between the men, Simon couldn't help but shift his attention over towards his wife, standing with Kate and her beloved, chattering your head off while mindlessly resting your hand over the baby bump.

You looked so vibrant, glowing in extravagant excellence. You wore a loose light pink dress that went past your knees, with comfortable, soft puffy sleeves. Tons of tiny blue flowers decorating the fabric of the skirt, accommodating your pregnant tummy beautifully.

You sipped a sparkling elderflower mocktail, thanks to an elderflower nonalcoholic beverage Simon had gotten you that you actually enjoyed.

Alejandro and Rodolfo arrived around four in the evening, apologizing profusely for being two hours late, but the fact that they even arrived had significantly warmed your heart.

“There’s no way we’d miss this special day, Princesa,” Alejandro stated after sharing a warm, heartfelt hug.

In Rodolfo’s hands he carried a large gift, a baby gift set his sisters had made for you, decorated in various yellows and soft, pastel greens, with kisses of pink and blue, a giant mystery to what the baby’s gender might’ve been. It gladly joined the rest of the presents that piled up in the corner of the room, remaining untouched until a particularly exciting event took place.

Kate’s wife immediately helped take the gift to add towards the pile. She had been an absolute dream with you, being as mindful as Simon, if not more than him, when it came to your needs. Arriving a half hour before the party began, helping with dinner, making sure you didn't stand for so long to rest your sore feet.

She was the apple of Kate’s eye, their relationship making you smile delightfully each chance you could.

“So, what’re you gonna do about the job?” Soap couldn't help but ask Simon, a question lingering in the air like a shadow.

Despite Simon never once minding the fact that he stayed home for you, there was the inevitable possibility that he’d have to go back to work, which meant he’d be far out of his family’s reach.

He hated it, the thought alone shooting a sour taste over his tongue. He couldn't avoid the topic forever, but it was a discussion he’d need to have with you. It wouldn't be a pretty one, but he had to have it at some point.

“Don’t quite know yet, Johnny.” He replied, glancing back over towards his wife before looking towards the Sergeant. “An’ I’d appreciate it if its not brought up again.”

“No no,” Soap held up a hand in calm defense, “I get it. Honest, wouldn't blame ya if you stayed. Doubt she’d let yer ass through the door.”

Simon huffed, slightly joining in on the man’s chuckle. That’s a level of unbridled new mother rage he’s hoping he’d never get to see.

“Are these it?” Gaz called your attention from the kitchen, holding the tray of cupcakes you kept in the freezer.

“Yep! It is.” You cheerfully replied, getting Kate to gather the men towards the dining room, either filling up the limited chairs or standing around. Simon was adamant on giving you a seat to rest in, but after some quick, hushed words, you convinced him to sit down, remaining by his side once the cupcakes were passed out with little napkins.

“So, what’s the game here?” Alejandro questioned, taking the cupcake once you offered it before passing it along to someone else.

“The game is we each take a bite and tally up the color we get. Odd color wins, gentleman. Place your bets now.” Kate announces, hearing Gaz huff while peering towards the Scotsman, muttering a few hushed words.

“Ah ah ah! Not literally, you idiot!” You quickly speak out, going against Soap, who purposely leaned back against his seat to pull out his wallet.

He snickered, purposefully acting the way he did to simply get a rise out of you, finding every chance he could incredibly amusing.

“No bets at my baby shower, John.” You ordered, watching him raise his hands in playful submission.

The man himself wore a dark blue shirt. As blue as the Scottish flag, he had stated after giving you a hug when he arrived. Despite the idea of a boy, he did mention a girl would be just as, if not, even more delightful a thought.

He could see any child the both of you had absolutely loved to death regardless, not only by its parents, but by everyone else who came to show their support.

The man himself offered to begin this little game, the suspense forcing him to chuckle as he bit into the cupcake, causing cold buttercream to smear the tip of his nose.

His eyes significantly widened the second he looked down, quickly turning around for the others to view the small pocket of pink hidden underneath the dome of piped frosting.

A small chorus of laughter and cheers erupted from the table, watching the man gather himself as he set the cupcake down, licking the frosting from his lips.

Gaz was next, helping himself to the cupcake in front of him. He took a more interesting approach, proceeding to bite into the frosting rather than the cake, revealing the purposefully pastel blue dyed frosting, casting a smile upon the man’s face as the color matched the light blue button up he wore.

“Alright! We got a boy!” He announced, chuckling along with a few others before he set it down.

“Unless you’re jestin’ us and hinting that yer havin’ twins.” Soap added in while licking his thumb of frosting after enjoying another bite.

The strain and hesitant laughter that came from you was forced, feeling your hand give Simon’s a decently firm squeeze, quietly reveling in the secret blessing that it wasn’t. It was interesting enough learning from just one, you wouldn't know what you would’ve felt with the possibility of twins.

Up next was Rodolfo, who had worn a white long sleeve, but that didn’t stop him from scoring a dark blue bracelet he had lifted up in defense to failing the dress code, something you didn’t hold against him. He held up his cupcake, presenting it like a trophy to reveal the pocket of blue underneath, cheering with the others.

“Oye, you should sell these. Open up a little bakery,” He proposed before taking another bite, watching you smile and giggle. It was good to see your love for baked goods get appreciated by others. It definitely saved money from buying them elsewhere.

Your altered taste buds despised the store-bought stuff anyway.

Alejandro wore a light pink button up with rolled up sleeves, biting into his cupcake once his turn came around. His eyes widened at the blue frosting, faking a pitiful look of sadness before chuckling it off in amusement.

“Really pushing it on a boy so far!” He chuckled, shortly agreeing with Rodolfo’s comment on how tasty the cupcake was. All it was missing was a hot cup of coffee and he was set.

Kate’s wife wore a pastel pink sweater vest over a white shirt, biting into a pink cupcake to her absolute delight, almost tearing up herself over the welcomed match. Kate herself had gotten a blue cupcake, matching coincidentally well with her blue scarf resting around her neck.

“In our defense,” Kate’s wife states while clutching her beloved’s hand, “We’ll love who they are regardless!”

“They’ll be getting spoiled either way,” Kate added in, chuckling along with the flat-out truth.

Price wore a cerulean shirt, but gladly accepted your request to pin a pink little bow on the far right of his shirt collar.

By now, as the buttercream came to room temperature, a bit of pink tinted frosting clung to his mustache after his bite, but chuckling to the realization of this little mishap didn't bother him in the slightest.

“Well, look at that!” He chuckled as you quickly handed him a few extra napkins. “I’m on the same boat, they’re gettin’ absolutely spoiled by all their aunts and uncles.”

“Sure thing, Gramps.” Gaz pitched, purposely avoiding the captain’s gaze, hiding his smile in his own hand.

“That’s a name they’ll be calling you in about a year or two,” You pitched in, smiling at the smirk that inevitably spread across the captain’s face after the comment.

“Your turn, dear.” Price gestured to you, leaving you to nod along with excitement, despite already knowing the truth.

As basic as it was, you’ve never held so much disdain for this simple vanilla cupcake, this painfully bland dessert, especially when it came to the multiple test cupcakes you’ve made prior.

The toughest challenge was making the buttercream thick and pearly white, hiding the color underneath perfectly.

You’d be more than happy to make any other cupcake rather than this tragically boring mess, leading you to simply tear open the cake in your hands without tasting it, revealing to the crowd the flush of pink underneath vanilla sponge and frosting.

The tally was set.

An even number of four on four so far, all that was left was the final cupcake to break the tie, the final cupcake that sat in front of Simon.

Simon wore dark gray, insisting that it didn’t matter to him what gender the baby was, he’d love them regardless, just as everyone else. He didn’t want to think ahead and assume too fast, too nervous at the high expectations, keeping all those thoughts bottled up until he learned the truth.

He didn't realize just until now how much pressure was placed on his shoulders, being the last man at the table, a plethora of pink and blue cupcakes flooding his eyes, down to the simple, plain cupcake in front of him.

Sweet frosting coated his taste buds once he took a bite, the room dreadfully quiet after this action.

The suspense grew thicker and thicker, all eyes on him as his wife’s hand settled on his right shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze, soothing his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Licking his lip, he glanced down at the cake in hand, unable to wait any longer.

Right there, in the center of the swirl of thick, smooth buttercream, topped with round pink and blue sprinkles was a soft, flush pastel pink pocket of icing.

Never in his life had he been so delighted to see such a color.

You watched Simon’s eyes light up, almost wider than saucers at the discovery. You stared at him with your hands over your mouth, a bright smile hidden underneath your fingers, your eyes flushed pink with hot tears.

“It’s a girl!” You quickly state towards the others before he could turn it around, watching multiple eyes light up, followed by large amounts of cheers and applause, those who sat rising from their seats instantly.

Simon had risen so fast from his seat, almost causing the furniture to tumble over as he secured you tightly in his arms, feeling your tears of joy dampen his shirt sleeve. His head buried deep into your neck, his light scruff prickling your skin as he purposefully hid his face from everyone who cheered in congratulations.

With your growing belly, Simon found holding you close to be a more endearing action as the days went by. Before the both of you knew it, your little girl would be squeezing between the two of you, urging to join in on such a hug, simply for the surge of attention from her parents.

Your fingers clung to his shirt, your ragged breathing muffled against his shoulder. Beneath the excitement, he heard you mutter to him how much you loved him dearly, repeating these words over and over. In response, he urged you to shift your head just enough so he could take you in a long, heartfelt kiss, before returning to you the same hushed words against your lips.

How you loved each other so. Simon never wanted to be away from you, the thought growing now more than ever.

He remained facing away from the crowd after you were let go, your attention immediately taken aside by Kate’s wife, who trapped you in a tight hug.

“Ya alright?” Soap approached Simon, seeing his refrained stance from the crowd, refusing everyone else to see him this way, teary eyed and emotional, all while keeping quiet.

Simon nodded, sparing yet another glance over towards his wife, smiling as wide as possible, bright tears beading the edges of your eyes, staining your beautifully flushed cheeks as Price took you in a hug, soothing your happy sobs with a comforting rub of your back.

This was better than you had ever hoped for, A wonderful make up for being unable to surprise him the first time.

A girl, a beautiful baby girl.

His future addition to the chamber of his heart, the apple blossom of his eye, his hopeful little dove soaring across an endless sky.

A daughter with the woman he loved most in this world.

For a moment, and just for a moment, he refused to let any dark thought in his mind ruin this happiness that flooded his bones and warmed his haunted spirit, lighting up the darkness like a small pink birthday candle.

He could hardly wait now.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #pregnancy #it’s cute stuff yk

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daysofyellowroses · 4 months

Text

toast

carmen berzatto x reader | 3.8k | 18+ minors dni | tw: mentions of death, overdose, shitty behaviour, smut, mostly implied but a little more explicit at the end

Going to bed alone is not ideal when you have someone to share that bed with you, but it's par for the course in certain relationships, such as the one you have with Carmy.

Well, if it can even be called a relationship. From the outside it certainly looks like a relationship, two people who sleep together, eat together, make each other laugh, make out on the couch like horny teenagers and send silly little messages to each other. That's a relationship, right?

Even if you don't technically sleep together, (not always, anyway but usually someone is getting out of bed and picking their clothes up off the floor fifteen minutes later), if you eat leftovers because cooking is too intimate, if the laughter can just as easily turn to empty silence, or frustrated yells. If the messages become less silly and more sparse (you're not quite at "you up?" but you're not far off it) it's still something, right?

Okay, okay, hands up. It's not exactly a relationship, but that's not from lack of want. It's just..Carmy. Fucking Carmy, and his fucking restaurant. Those two are intertwined, bonded for life, never leaving each other.

In an ideal world, Carmy would be intertwined with you, bonded to you, would never leave you. But it's not an ideal world.

If anyone knows that to be true, you certainly do. Ideal worlds don't exist, you learned the hard way. Parents who barely notice you exist because they're caught up in their own shitty behaviours. Those same parents divorcing, one dying of an overdose followed by the other dying in a car accident. Being sent to live with a grandmother you barely knew when you were at the start of your teens.

There were some tiny silver linings, of course. Your grandmother turned out to be the most gentle, loving, compassionate woman with the patience of a saint when it came to you. You were not exactly easy to deal with as a teenager. After growing up around shitty behaviour, it took root in you and you followed suit. After moving to Chicago you started hanging around with the "wrong" crowd, smoking, drinking in abandoned houses, staying out til all hours and no doubt worrying your grandmother sick.

Slowly, though ,she started to get through to you. She never screamed or dished out punishments, never gave you a lecture or told you how disappointed she was, but you could always sense it. You were almost 18 before you realised she waited up every single night, refusing to go to bed until she knew you were home safely.

There was no big emotional sit down, no heart to heart. You just started making small changes, implanting them over time. Coming home at a decent hour, making dinner, watching wheel of fortune.

Not every single night, of course, but you made an effort. One day you happened to pass by a gym and saw an advertisement for a receptionist position, couple of days a week.

To your surprise, you got the job. It was an easy gig, sitting behind a desk and getting to people watch for a couple of hours. There were little bits and pieces of administrative work that you did when you were really bored, but you started to enjoy having a focus, having little achievements.

College was never going to happen, you knew that. "Intelligent, but does not apply herself" was the constant remark from teachers. What was the point of spending endless hours trying to get into college just to spend a fortune dicking around when you could do that for free at home?

But that didn't mean you didn't rule out any further options. You took work more seriously, got more hours when you graduated high school. Applied for community college, got accepted much to your shock.

It wasn't the most amazing student experience, but you made good friends, pushed yourself to apply that Intelligence, and couldn't deny it was an amazing feeling to see your grandmother be so proud, feeling like you weren't disappointing her anymore was the ultimate benefit.

She didn't get to see you graduate, but she did leave you an amazing parting gift, her home became yours. It pushed you to keep going, to not let yourself fall back on old habits. You got a job in an office, got a coffee every day, started going to the gym you used to work in, all in all you were living a perfectly ordinary life.

Nothing to write home about, really, but it meant a lot to you. It meant you being able to say, 'I am not my parents, I am not destined to end up like they did. I am doing good.'

In the relationship department..you always felt like you'd frontloaded all your experience when you were in your teens. You had some fun, did your thing, never really had anything too serious. You dated while in community college, met some nice guys. They bought flowers, made stupid jokes you politely laughed at, got excited talking about craft beer/football/whatever TV show was big that month. One or two relationships, but they didn't really last that long. Still, they made you realise what you wanted, and what you didn't want.

Then..Carmy came into your life.

The funny thing was, you weren't actually looking for anything when you met him. You'd decided to sell your grandmother's place to buy your own apartment, which felt painful but you kept her most precious belongings to make your new place feel more like home while still being a new start. Work wasn't particularly exciting but you were doing well, and one of the girls you'd become close with at college had started working with you, which made it more tolerable.

The last thing you'd expected was to discover that same friend was dating someone, someone you never would have paired her with.

Richie fucking Jerimovich.

You had noticed she'd been smiling at her phone more, had mentioned she was seeing someone, and you were happy for her of course but when she suggested going to the Beef one day for lunch the last thing you expected was that it wasn't for the food.

Of course you'd been to the Beef before, it would be a struggle to find someone who hadn't. But it wasn't exactly close to the office, and you hadn't been for a while. Not out of choice, just..it hadn't been somewhere you'd dropped by.

Still, you figured you were overdue for a sweet beef sandwich, so had agreed to go along. When you'd walked in and Richie had smiled so genuinely at your best friend you immediately knew what the situation was.

"Still the only person who can genuinely surprise me, Rich," You had grinned. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"You know me," Richie shrugged with a grin, flipping a towel over his shoulder. "I always got something up my sleeve."

Fucking Richie.

You'd been there, before. The two of you had been at some house party or other, you couldn't remember why or how you'd even ended up there. But you'd found yourself sitting on a couch with Richie, excitedly telling him you recognised him from your favourite sandwich shop. He'd made you laugh, excitedly telling you his Bill Murray story. He was wearing a nice cologne, and he was actually a good kisser, you would give him that. One thing led to another and you ended up upstairs in whoever's house. It had been fun, you didn't regret it, but it had definitely been a one time only thing.

About a week after you heard Michael had died, you'd bumped into Richie again in the supermarket. He seemed to be his usual self on the outside but the spark was gone from his eyes. You hadn't been by the restaurant much since.

Until you went along with your best friend and apparently Richie's new girlfriend.

You had ordered a sandwich and left them to it while you went to have a cigarette. You'd tried to quit several times, but could never quite do it. And no matter how many times they were suggested, you refused to give in to vapes. So it was out in the breezy air, round the side of the restaurant, searching around in your bag for a lighter.

The cigarette between your lips was begging to be lit, and memories of passing your lighter to Deb from HR that morning hit you. She never had given it back.

You had been about to admit defeat when you heard him.

"Need a light?"

That was it, the most basic question and you could have fallen to your knees with relief. Then you turned and saw him and could have fallen to your knees anyway.

He offered you his lighter, which you took with a grateful nod. You had closed your eyes as you inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs before breathing it out. He was looking at you intently when you opened your eyes.

You returned the lighter, offering your thanks. He lit a cigarette himself, and you stood in a strangely comfortable and electric silence for a few moments.

You couldn't really remember what who had spoken first, maybe he had asked you if you were eating at the restaurant, maybe you asked if he was a chef. Either way, conversation was sparked and you felt a growing attraction for him, physically at least. You made him laugh, you knew that. He looked cute when he laughed, you wanted to make him laugh and smile and a whole lot more.

At some point you had both gone back inside, and that was that.

Until the next day, when you went back again for lunch. Richie teased you about being a regular, you gave him the finger as you went to have a cigarette. No sign of life that time, to your disappointment.

So you went back again, and again. Sometimes he would be out for a cigarette already, sometimes he would join you.

Carmy, you learned. It suited him, you definitely thought that. He was already in your thoughts, then his name spilled from your lips at night, alone in your room.

After a week, heading into the second, you were surprised that he hadn't asked you out, or even asked for your number. Not that you were being conceited, more..the two of you had developed a flirtation. Eyes lingered, fingers brushed against skin when the lighter was exchanged. Comments were made, bodies moving a little closer together each time.

Yet, nothing.

It was halfway through the third week when you got a message out of the blue from an unknown number. Evidently your bestie had given Richie your number to pass along, because apparently you were all still in high school.

Still, it meant you were invited out for a drink. Late, but you figured he worked late, he would only be free late. You had one drink, maybe a couple of sips of a second before you were walking out of the bar and pulling Carmy into an Uber. Maybe he was pulling you, either way you both knew exactly what you wanted.

It was almost like stress relief for you both. Desperate and hot and messy. Neither of you said much beyond 'fuck', 'harder' and moaning, but it was the best you had had in a very long time.

When you woke up alone the next morning, you couldn't help but feel a little confused, and little cheap. You didn't expect him to be laying there looking at you like a lost puppy but you at least expected him to be there. But he was gone, had he stayed and slipped away early or did he wait until you fell asleep and make a run for it?

You tried not to think about it too much, it was what it was, these things happen. Still, if it was half as good for him as it was for you..he would surely want more.

And, it turned out, he did.

You got a classic late night text, and made your way to his place. You barely saw more than his front door, he pulled you in so quickly. It was even better than the first time, and you knew you were already in danger of becoming addicted.

It took some time to get used to, finding a balance between relationship and fling, but slowly a little routine developed. Not a relationship but..all the elements of one, like a deconstructed sandwich. Which is how it started. He had randomly offered you a PB&J while you were putting your bra back on and you agreed. He didn't have much bread left so you had open faced sandwiches on the couch in your underwear.

Sometimes when he came to your apartment, you would be in the middle of watching something and he would watch it with you, tattooed hand on your thigh waiting patiently til one of you broke and lunged at the other.

So that was it. There was you, there was Carmy. You did things together, but you were not together. It was just how it was.

Probably for the best, you tried to tell yourself. After all, it's not like Carmy was easy to be around constantly. He could drive you crazy, to the point where you would end up screaming in frustration, have him scream right back at you. Doors would slam, days would pass in silence, then one of you would be standing in the other's doorway, profusely apologizing until there was a trail of clothes leading to the bed/kitchen counter/nearest surface.

But..the funniest thing happened, something you never would have expected.

Richie popped the question. For real. And got a yes.

Of course you were thrilled, how could you not be when your best friend in the world was engaged? But..it made you reevaluate your own situation. You didn't want to marry Carmy, but..you at least wanted to eat together at a restaurant, sleep in the same bed, watch a whole fucking movie together.

The engagement party pushed you to the edge. The music was blasting, the food was incredible, you felt great in your dress..but the knot on your stomach wouldn't go away. Here was a couple on the verge of committing themselves to each other forever and you couldn't even get Carmy to commit to sleeping next to you. It was your own doing, you knew. You could have ended it when you started wanting more, but you couldn't do it. And now you had to pay the price.

You picked a fight about something stupid at the party, unable to stop yourself. You suspected Carmy knew what was going on but had the tact not to say it. You almost wished he had. When you felt you were about to get really angry, you'd gone for a cigarette, the lighter shaking in your hands. He'd followed you, and you let it all out at him, feeling like a damned hypocrite but refusing to give in to the feeling.

You went home alone after that, wondering if that was it between you and Carm. If you wanted that to be it. You had been spiteful, petty, but honest.

And now, here you stand in your bathroom doorway, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Sleep is all you want, all you need. So you tell yourself.

The bed feels cold, too big and too small at once. It's a struggle to sleep, and when you do it's restless and plagued with nightmares. You wake up when you hear something from the living room. Too tired to get up and investigate, awake enough to feel nervous.

"It's me," A voice calls, sounding closer. It takes a second to register, but it's Carmy, you know it. You frown, wondering how he even got in. You never gave him a key, figuring he'd run a mile if you did.

"Got a key from the bride to be," Carmy explains as he opens your bedroom door. "Hope you don't mind."

You can barely keep your eyes open, frowning slightly before taking a breath.

"Mm. 'S fine," You murmur, resting your arm over your eyes as you roll onto your back.

You hear his footsteps move closer to the bed.

"Just wanted to check on you."

He keeps talking when you don't respond, takes a step forward.

"I say a lot of shitty things, I know I do. I can't stop myself, though. They just..they come out before I can stop them and I don't want you to think I mean to be such a fucking asshole."

You slowly lower your arm, resting it on your stomach as you let out a breath.

"What is it you want, then?"

He doesn't say anything, and you feel a knot twist in your stomach as you think he'll leave. After a moment he moves closer, carefully sits on the edge of the bed. He smells like cigarettes and grease and cologne. You hate that you love it. That it does it for you every time.

"You," Carmy murmurs after a moment. His hand lightly rests on your arm.

"That's what I want. I want to stop fucking this up, and I don't know how. I'm not the guy who's gonna buy you flowers and write you poetry, I'm gonna plan a date with you and forget to show up, I'm gonna be unreliable and selfish and a pain in the fucking ass and because I'm selfish I want to keep you even though I know I'm fucking it up and screwing you over. But I want to try and be less of a fuck up."

The words hang in the air, your sleep-addled brain tries to make sense of it all.

"You are going to fail horribly," You sigh, reaching out and taking his arm when he moves it away. You can feel the guilt radiating off him.

"But I know that. All I ask is you learn from your mistakes. I don't expect flowers, and I would rather die than have you write me a poem, but I do ask that you spend the rest of the night with me, then in the morning when I wake up you'll be here. We'll eat toast and watch the news and probably have a fight because we're being too fucking domestic too soon but..it will be a start. Okay?"

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a small smile on Carmy's face that grows when his eyes meet yours. "Okay."

"Good," You nod, slowly moving yourself up on your elbows. "Now..since you so rudely woke me up, you can help me go back to sleep."

"Yes ma'am."

He doesn't need to be asked twice, immediately diving in to kiss you and pin you down on the bed. All you want is to fall asleep feeling him deep inside you, but it seems he has different plans.

He takes his time, kissing your neck and peeling back the neck of your pajama top to lightly nip and suck your tired flesh. Your eyes close as his large hand snakes under your top, skilled fingers lavishing attention on your already hardened nipples. You feel like you could fall into the most wonderful sleep but force yourself to stay awake.

“Carmy,” You moan softly, your hand finding his hair on the dark. “Please..’m tired, you know what I want..”

He doesn't stop, and you feel a growing slickness between your legs.

“I know what you need, baby,” He murmurs softly into your neck. “Let me take care of you.”

You don't object as he moves down between your legs. You realize, with a tired smile, that you two have never been this gentle with each other. It feels good.

“Mm..fuck,” You moan as strong hands spread your thighs,hot breath ghosts over your most sensitive parts. He doesn't even have to do all that much to have you melting. “Carmy..”

“I got you,” He murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs. Your hands rise up and under your pillows as the tip of his tongue slowly touches you. “My perfect girl..”

You want to cry and scream and sleep, your body feeling wonderfully weak. He doesn't rush, tasting you slow and delicately, a low heat rising and twisting in your stomach. His hand moves from your thigh as his lips find your clit, your eyes flutter open as warm digits push into you.

“Oh god,” You whisper, closing your eyes and resting your hand in your forehead. “please..please..”

You feel him nod, and answers your request by not speeding up or slowing down, rather continuing to do what he's doing and doing it very fucking well.

It doesn't take long before the law heat in your stomach becomes a raging fire, your heart racing like it will burst from your chest.

“Fuck..’m so close,” You moan, eyes shut tight, hand reaching down to lightly grip Carmy's hair. Part of you wants to pull him away, part of you wants to push him closer. “I..I..”

“Shh,” Carmy whispers, his voice pushing you closer to the edge. “You can..just let go for me darling..”

You come with a soft cry, your whole body feeling like it's about to sink into the mattress, a heavenly feeling. Carmy slowly moves slowly, you open your eyes as he moves on top you of. You crane your neck up to kiss him and he hesitates for a moment.

“Wanna taste myself,” You murmur softly. He lets out a groan and kisses you before you can even breath. Your hands move into his hair as he kisses you slowly and wetly, it's lewd and gentle at once.

Your hand moves between your bodies, lazily palming at Carmy. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“We don't have to..”

“I'm still awake,” You murmur softly, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “don't break your promise..”

He doesn't break it.

You don't have your usual sense of urgency, he keeps his shirt on and your pajama top rides up over your chest. But it feels like a new level of intimacy as you wrap yourself around him, as he whispers in your ear that he needs you, he wants you, he won't ever mess up again.

He will, and you will, but in that moment you let the fantasy breathe.

He moves slowly but deeply, each thrust hitting the spot perfectly. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Carmy's lips against yours, the perfect knot in your stomach that almost unravels, the belief he will stay.

In the morning you don't have toast.

You are surprised with pancakes in bed.

The news is on, but neither you nor Carmy pay attention, the pancakes half-eaten on the bed, a trail of clothes leading to the shower.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #smut #nonsense #men being shitty #but fucking cute

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lovlive · 2 months

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ midnight insomnia' - c.yj

SYNOPSIS - its the middle of the night and you have 2 problems; no.1 you cant sleep, and no.2 you miss your boyfriend. PAIRING - choi yeonjun x f!reader GENRE - fluff, established relationship WARNINGS - reader is depicted with a pink colour, reader is called ‘baby’ and ‘girlfriend’, just yeonjun and y/n being really cute with eachother <3 requested from anon: hi! i dont think you've posted yet, maybe your busy or just dont know what to write about since your a new blog, but i want to put in a req.. could you do reader x yeonjun with the prompt “i can’t sleep, come to my bed” id actually die AAH im so curious what you could turn this into, thanks :}

notes: thanku sm for the req! yeah, i havent been writing yet since my brain was blank tbh i had no ideas for a fanfic in mind 😭😭 but now youve added fuel to my fire and ill try start writing more often :3 (and yes, the 127 in the fic was on purpose)

The moon cast a soft glow through the small sliver between your curtains, painting the room in hues of silver. In the quiet of the night, you tossed and turned under your soft blanket, unable to find solace in slumber. As you battled with your insomnia, you just couldnt keep your mind off of one thing; Yeonjun. You couldnt stop thinking about the way he would hold you through these chilly early-spring nights, and how much you missed his warm body next to yours. At this point you’ve realised just how starved you were from him despite only seeing him a couple of days ago.

You gave up on your slumber, rolling like a log from one side of your bed to another to pick up your phone. The sharp glow from the screen hit your eyes, your face instinctively scrunching up since you werent used to the brightness. Your fingers lazily glided over to the message app icon, and then tapped on Yeonjun’s contact. The time at the side of the screen caught your eye, and your realised it was 1:27 AM. You were a little weary of texting your boyfriend at this late hour; you knew that he was probably tired after a long day of practicing and you didnt want to seem selfish or too clingy. But you shook off your bad feelings since you knew that Yeonjun wasnt the type to be able to fall asleep easily either. You began to type your messages…

“jjunieeee..”

“baby… ☹️”

As expected, Yeonjun was of course awake. Your one word messages were opened by him a minute later. He looked at the texts, a little confused on why you’d be texting him right now. Any how, he started typing back.

“y/n? why’re you still up. you better not be up to some weird shi 😐”

“jjunie, i cant sleep. come to my bed.”

“baby, its half 1 in the morning.”

“please..😔 i really cant sleep and i need sum1 by my side 😞”

“y/n you’re going to be the death of me... but what wouldnt i do for my beautiful girlfriend”

“ill be there in 5”

“yippee! 😇 i love you ❤️”

“love you more baby ❤️”

Your face lit up as your boyfriend agreed to come over. You immediately put your phone back on your side table and plugged it back into charging, then quickly tossed the dirty socks that were lying on your bedroom floor underneath your bed to appear a little tidier. After a little while, you could hear a quiet knock echo through your small apartment; your face lighting up once again. Your feet quickly brought you to your hallway, where you rummaged your drawer for your keys. Eventually finding them, you jammed the correct key into the keyhole, twisiting it and gently opening the door. As your boyfriend appears from behind the door, you immediately pull him into a hug, shutting the door behind him. “Whats up with you today?” He teases as he feels your arms lock around him tightly, wrapping his arms around your waist in response. “Just missed you baby.” You responded, taking in his soft scent which you missed badly. “Y/n, we just saw eachother a few days ago..” His chuckle landed right in your ear, warm breath brushing right up against your ear. The sensation of course did not fail to make you blush a little. “Yeah, but ‘just a few days ago’ feels like an eternity to me.” You whisper into his shoulder, finding comfort in just burrying your face in his shoulder and hiding from the world. You feel his hands come away from your waist and up to your back, rubbing small circles. “You really arent a patient person, are you? Now, lets get you to bed.” He whispers as he takes your hand in his and begins to lead you over to your bedroom. You obviously dont resist, and grip his hand back as you walk behind him. None of you made a sound as you walked to your bedroom. Both of your social batteries were drained from the long day you’ve survived today, and all you wanted to do was to hold eachother in peace as you tried to fall back into a slumber.

You walk into your bedroom, and Yeonjun leads you straight to your bed. He lets you crawl in and under the covers as he takes off his jacket and throws it onto the chair you have by your desk. He came just wearing his pajamas, since he knew all you were going to do together was snuggle and sleep. He climbs onto your bed, arms wrapping tightly around your body as your face hides in his chest. His hand runs through your soft hair in a consoling manner, trying to get you to feel more tired and sleepy. His hands work like magic, your eyes beginning to feel heavier by the minute. But before you fall asleep, you give his hand a gentle squeeze and manage to whisper a set of three familiar words.

“I love you.”

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marc-spectorr · 2 years

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hate to love you

ˣ pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

ˣ summary: being stranded on a planet? not a problem, at least rescue’s coming. the real issue is that it means for twelve hours, you’re stuck with poe dameron.

ˣ warnings: 7.7k wc. explicit smut (oral/vaginal) and language. enemies-ish to lovers & forced proximity trope. mentions of blood & injuries. kinda soft!

ˣ a/n: “it’s been 84 years…” seriously tho i apologize for the big delay in posting ;_; but yay here’s my first official poe fic! i didn’t intend for this to be quite long, still i hope you enjoy 🤍

You’re seething with anger.

A red, hot, and blinding rage.

One more word out of your Commander, and you swear you’d make him regret having survived that crash landing.

You couldn’t care any less for his half-assed excuses. The weak explanations and baseless assumptions that only boil your blood. Even the sound of his mere voice has you so irritated that you wish the explosion had blown out your ear drums.

If only he had listened to you, then the two of you wouldn’t be in this mess— you wouldn’t be stranded on some unknown, barren planet deep in the outer rim.

Quick to point a finger, this was entirely Poe Dameron’s doing.

This was all his fucking fault.

“Relax, darling,” Poe assures nonchalantly. You roll your eyes at his endearment, darling. Bastard. Smiles cockily like one too. “Nearest Resistance outpost received our distress signal along with coordinates ’fore we got shot down. At this rate, rescue should be coming in by the next morning.”

You bite your tongue hard, maintaining a steely, scathing gaze at the flickering embers before you. That’s at least twelve hours. Twelve miserable hours with Poe, the very last man you’d want to be stuck with.

Maker, what did you do in your past life to deserve this punishment?

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly fine sleeping here in the meantime. Think of this as a vacation of sorts. An overnight camping trip. You always did mention wanting to get out of D’Qar for a tiny bit.”

By here, Poe meant the rocky cavern serving as your shelter for the night. Thankfully, he managed to do something correctly, and that was igniting a fire. The sun was dipping behind the horizon at a quickened pace; you could already feel the sharp nip of the wind swirling in the air.

Great. Earlier, you had narrowly avoided dying in a ball of fire. Now, you’re faced with the threat of hypothermia.

Two extremes. Funny how the universe works at times.

“So, are you just gonna give me the silent treatment or what?”

Never mind that. Freezing to death sounded much more appealing than having Poe talk your ear off.

It pisses you off how he’s seemingly amused by the situation. Acting as if he didn’t get your ship shot down, almost killing you in an attempt to prove a point. The only thing Poe confirmed at that moment was how incredibly reckless and arrogant he could be. That, plus you realized how little he cares about your well-being, seeing he was ready to risk your life along with his.

“C’mon, lighten up, Black Two,” Poe spurs as he sits cross-legged on the coarse ground beside you. “At least we made it out alive.”

You recoil at Poe’s sudden nearness, tugging the emergency blanket draped over your body closer. Lucky for you both, you escaped the fiery wreckage with a couple of minor injuries. Some scrapes and bruises. He’s got a busted lip, small cuts along his cheek, and the bridge of his nose.

On the other hand, you were nursing a swollen ankle that was probably more of a sprain than not. Add to that a nasty gash on your forehead and a deep cut to the side. But hey, things could have been much worse.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. There, there’s your apology,” he offers tartly. “And you can stop with the poutiness now. It doesn’t suit your face, darling.”

Turning to meet Poe’s gaze, you scoff at him. “Seriously? You honestly think saying “I’m sorry” after the shit you pulled up there will magically fix things?”

“Well, it’s a start. No need to get all snippy at me. Case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck on this lame fucking planet too.”

“Imagine how I feel being stuck with you, jack-ass,” you snark with all the bitterness in your tone.

Poe pauses, then narrows his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sick and tired of you, Dameron. Always so damn egotistic and condescending. It’s astounding how you made it this far into the war still in one piece.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault those tie-fighters ambushed us out of nowhere, alright? I had it all under control and could have really used your help. But no— instead, you wouldn’t stop bitching about high-tailing outta there. We only had enough fuel for one more jump!”

“And? Being stranded in space and waiting for help makes a shit ton of sense versus going against ten fucking tie-fighters shooting at us all at once.”

Poe huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “If we would have gone with your plan, it would mean aborting the mission and coming back to base empty-handed.”

“I fail to see where you find fault in that, considering what we were up against. But whatever— thanks for nearly getting me killed, by the way. I have nothing else to say to you.”

A pained hiss passes from your clenched teeth as you push yourself back up to your feet. You stagger several yards towards the entrance of the cave, furthering yourself from the warmth of the fire. Cold be damned, you need to get far and away from him. Fast. It’s as if Poe’s very existence repels you. Drives you into a spiraling madness, and it’s no wonder that you hate his guts.

You hate Poe Dameron.

Loathe, despised, detest, and abhor.

Call it whatever the fuck you want, but no word would be enough to describe the amount of resentment you had for him.

This isn’t the first time Poe has gotten under your skin, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Too bad he’s the Resistance’s Golden Boy. Untouchable and could never do wrong. His actions today would be seen as heroic. A brave, brazen move. And if that isn’t the case, then the least Leia would do is give him a mere slap on the wrist and ground him for a day or two.

No harsh punishment for the fleet’s best fighter pilot. Not for Poe. Never for him.

The fate of the galaxy relies on people like him.

What a shame.

What a damn, fucking shame.

“Two.”

Your thoughts are derailed when Poe intones your callsign, cutting through the vast silence with what could be mistaken as sincerity. The urge to snap at him for disturbing your respite is there, but the energy to actually do it has all been depleted.

You’re tired. Exhausted— so fucking exhausted of him that you wanted nothing more than to be left alone in the peace. Why couldn’t he allow you that?

“Come back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” Poe coaxes softly.

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Even without checking, you’re well aware that he’s standing there behind you, waiting.

“Kriff, can you stop being stubborn and talk to me for just five seconds?”

Poe doesn’t relent. He never does. He always has to have the last word, the last laugh, everything.

And he’s only this way when he’s with you, for reasons perhaps you may never know.

A heavy sigh fills the empty pause. You barely register the blanket settling across your shoulders until Poe softly calls out your name. Not your callsign like he normally does. But your name. And it flees from his lips in a low whisper, void of any spite or sourness. You’re not used to it— the softness in his voice, the quiet calmness that soon follows.

For a moment, you think there is sincerity this time.

Poe appears in your field of vision, and you swallow thickly. Hate him all you want, but you can never deny how handsome he is. Even you have shamefully indulged a glance at him here and there around the base.

There’s a reason why everyone, at some point or another, has fancied Poe. Bronzed skin, dark café eyes, a smile that’s brighter than the Tatooine suns. If looks could bring the First Order down alone, Commander Dameron would have already forced them to their knees.

“You’re bleeding,” he observes, thick brows knitting in worry. Your gaze shifts from the golden cast on Poe’s face to the laceration on your hip that you’d crudely bandaged up earlier. Blood soaks through your tee, trickling down and staining the earth below. He had previously offered to help you, although you were too angry to allow him. Even if it hurts like a bitch. “I promise to shut up for the rest of the night if you let me patch that up correctly.”

You chuckle mirthfully. “For the rest of the night? Hmm, I don’t know. That seems quite a far-fetched feat for you, Dameron.”

“Try me,�� Poe adds with a small smile, and there’s something in the way he looks at you. Something so gentle, sweet. Your eyes flicker back to his, and fuck— Poe is beautiful in this gleaming light.

You mentally shove that final thought into the farthest depths of your head.

“Fine,” you agree slowly. “But if I hear a single peep out of you, I’m tossing you into the fire.”

Poe smirks, nodding. “Copy that.”

You almost tossed him into the fire.

Almost.

Impressively, Poe did keep his mouth close for the first ten minutes or so. He had you lying on your back, cushioned by his jacket spread on the harsh floor. You stared at the stony overhead above as he changed the wrappings on your side with fresh bacta pads from the emergency kit he recovered at the crash site.

Everything was going pretty well. That is until he cleared his throat.

“Please don’t react when I ask you this, but— can you take off your shirt for me?”

Your fist tightens into a ball for a few seconds until you force yourself to relax.

“Why? You can reach the wound fine like this. There’s no need for it to be off.”

Poe exhales a long, weary breath. “Your shirt is getting in the way, Two. I can’t clean this thoroughly with it on; if I don’t, the bacta won’t be enough to stop an infection. Trust me, it’s not going to be pleasant if that happens.”

Your face heats up, and it’s not because of the makeshift fire nearby. The last thing you expected today is Poe seeing you in such an undressed state. Maker, this mission only keeps getting worse and worse, isn’t it?

“Don’t look anywhere you’re not supposed to, got it?” you warn him with a spitfire tone. “If I catch even the slightest glimpse, I will—”

“Yeah, yeah— you’ll toss me into the fire,” Poe finishes your threat as he untwists the bottle cap of the antiseptic solution. “Shirt off, I’ll be quick. Don’t have to worry about me sneaking a peek, darling.”

You strip off your tee with a grunt, Poe coming to assist when he notices you struggling to get it over your head. The airy chill bites at your bare skin instantly. Clad in only a bra, you begin to shiver slightly, arms coming up to shield the upper half of your body from both the stiff breeze and Poe’s view.

Strangely, you aren’t apprehensive about him going against his word. Poe could be an asshole, sure. But he’s not the type to disrespect in that regard. The most you can expect from him is the incessant teasing and flirting— all lighthearted, harmless, and fun (for him, at least).

You haven’t been on the receiving end of it. Not for a while now, no. You remember the time Poe wasn’t a difficult man to deal with. It had been so long ago that you’d forgotten what that was like. Having him around and not wanting to immediately leave his presence. It’s quite hard to believe that such a time had ever existed.

You don’t know what went wrong, why things are the way they are now.

You wonder if it’s too late to fix this. If there’s anything left to salvage when you’re grasping onto a fraying thread. You want things to change, desperately so. But it’s all up to him. It’s all up to Poe.

Poe. His hands are on your body, warm and soft. Gentle in the way he moves them as he mends your injury.

He touches you carefully like you’re made out of glass— fragile and delicate— and you try disregarding the tingling buzz in your veins. How he bites the corner of his bottom lip in concentration, his stray dark locks sweeping against his forehead as he leans in closer. Close enough that his hot breath fans over your skin, and it’s electrifying.

There’s a fleeting moment of you wanting to seek out more. Chasing something that you would not dare to ask. Something that you’re certain would never happen.

Not with Poe.

No— Not here. Not now. Not ever.

“Sorry, again,” you hear Poe say softly as deft fingers secure the new wrapping over your wound. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you back there. It was fucking stupid of me to even try, and look what happened. I should have listened to you and—”

He stops for a beat and quietly hands you your t-shirt to put back on. There’s a shift in Poe’s demeanor. Gone was his haughty, overly narcissistic self, that unbearable side of him that you’ve known for so long.

This Poe, however— this is all new. Caring, compassionate. Soft and gentle. It’s all new to you. Different and unrecognizable. As unfamiliar as this planet is to you.

Where has this version of Poe been hiding? Because for once, he’s not insufferable.

“I know you don’t like me. I know that once we’re back on D’Qar, you’re going to chew me out in front of the General, and I deserve it,” he continues, guiding you to sit up. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But what I’m hoping for right now is for you to understand how sorry I am for taking things too far. It wasn’t my intention to put you in harm’s way. It never is.”

A light crackling noise pierces the stillness of the air. The ember glow from the flickering flames dances over Poe’s remorseful features. He regards you with a tender expression, those doe-brown irises of his make your heart thump quicker in your chest.

Surprisingly, you don’t fend off the smile slowly creeping its way across your face. “Now what? Are we calling a truce?”

“I’ll give you a trail mix bar if we do,” Poe beams, pulling out the snack from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. “A peace offering.”

With a half-serious glare, you snatch the trail mix away from him, grumbling, “Were you going to hide this from me the whole time?”

“No, of course not. I was planning on sharing one with you.”

Your brow furrows. “One?”

“Yeah, one,” Poe confirms, taking out a second bar and waving it in the air. “I brought along two just in case.”

“In case we get stranded on a deserted wasteland?”

Laughter bubbles out of him. “In case you and I get hungry during the flight.”

“Well, uh— thanks,” you reply briskly as you tear open the wrapper with Poe mirroring your action.

“See, I’m not all that bad,” he grins broadly, and there’s more truth to the statement than you care to admit.

God, you’re unsure whether you have a concussion or you’re losing your mind. Because one moment, you’re tearing Poe a new one, and the next, he’s sending a flurry of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. You’re confused as hell, nerves a jumbled mess, and you still can’t shake off the feeling of his hands on you— touching you.

Perhaps, it’s neither. Maybe it’s merely you beginning to hate him less.

Impossible, you briefly muse. But what if it isn’t?

“So… truce?” Poe asks whilst chewing, holding out his free hand to you. “Let’s turn a new leaf starting tonight. Look, I like you, Two. I really like you. I guess that’s also why I’ve been tough on you lately.”

Poe mumbles that last bit quickly, and you nearly choke on the bite you’ve taken. Even he’s caught by surprise with his own admission, his eyes widening in disbelief. But before you could question him on that further, he skips around the topic and continues.

“I swear, all the petty arguments end today. I don’t wanna butt heads with you anymore. So, what do you say? Truce?”

You let out a drawn-out sigh, your gaze locking on the hopeful gleam in those big brown eyes of his. He’s like a puppy. Say no, and it’s almost as bad as accidentally kicking it in the face. It wouldn’t hurt to give Poe another chance, right? It shouldn’t. And you pray to whatever higher power there is (or isn’t) that doing this wouldn’t turn out to be a big mistake.

“Okay,” you accept and shake Poe’s hand, not missing the growing curve on his lips. “Truce. No more bullshit, Dameron, or that’s it. I’m out.”

“No more bullshit, scout’s honor,” he upholds. “Now that’s out of the way…”

Oh hell. What now?

“Remember, we declared a truce. No backsies.”

You cross your arms against your chest. “Dameron, what are you talking about—”

“This planet’s atmosphere is shit, okay? Even with the fire here, it’s cold, and we only have one blanket.”

“Are you proposing that we—”

“Sleep together,” Poe declares rather enthusiastically. “Not in that way, obviously. I mean, sleep next to each other. Y’know, to conserve body heat? Keep ourselves as warm and cozy as possible.”

An exasperated groan escapes you. With the way you were rolling your eyes hard, it’s a good thing that it didn’t trigger an aneurysm. “Fucking— fine. You can sleep next to me. But hog the blanket from me, and I will—”

“Don’t have to remind me. Into the fire pit I shall go,” Poe smirks when you nod. “Consider yourself lucky, sweetheart. You’re guaranteed a restful slumber tonight despite the circumstances.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“Simple,” he answers, almost braggingly. “I don’t snore.”

You couldn’t come up with a snarky response to that. In fact, you couldn’t come up with any type of response. You’re too absorbed by the thought of Poe snuggling against you, something that would have really peeved you if it had been brought up an hour ago.

And Poe picks up on it, your speechlessness. Your glassy eyes, how your jaw slightly drops as if you had just heard the most absurd joke out of him. But you don’t flat-out deny his suggestion. You don’t have it in you to tell him to fuck off. Nor that the fire is more than enough to keep warm.

Embarrassingly, you wanted it. To feel Poe’s body beside you, surrounded by his radiating warmth. It’s been far too long since you’ve shared a bed with another man. Although this is technically not the same thing, you’re so goddamn touch-starved that sleeping next to Poe isn’t the most awful idea in the world.

Instead, it’s all you could think of— it’s all you need right now.

Fuck, you’re losing your sanity. That’s what it is. You’ve gone crazy after realizing that in less than a day, you’ve gone from hating Poe with every fiber of your being to craving… Well, him.

And you don’t know how to make of it. Whether or not you’ll make it.

Rescue would be coming soon. After dawn, if Poe’s estimations are correct. You could only hope that you’re able to survive through the night to be saved.

Hours have passed, and from what you can see, it’s still dark outside.

You lie restlessly on the rugged terrain in silence. The frigid air sweeping into the cavern leaves you shuddering, and you pull the blanket high under your chin. It’s silent for two or three beats, save for the snap and crackle of the blaze.

Then there’s rustling at your side. Glancing over, you find Poe on his back, one hand behind his head as he lets out a yawn.

“Can’t sleep?” You manage, copying his position so that you’re both staring aimlessly into nothing. “Or are you afraid I might catch you lying about not being a snorer?”

A chuckle rumbles out of Poe. “Hey, I truly don’t snore. If you want, I can provide a list of people that can attest to this.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” you rebuff. “I would assume that list is long, and frankly, I don’t have the patience to go through each name there.”

“Eh, between you and me, it’s really not that long. To be honest, my dick is probably longer—”

“Okaaay, that is TMI, Dameron. Watch it.” You playfully swat at his chest, choking back an incredulous chortle. “But your list being short is kinda hard to believe when there’s all that gossip about you being quite the fuckboy.”

Poe shifts to lie on his side, now facing you. “And you believe them? Those gossips about me?”

Shrugging, you do the same, and you’re suddenly made aware of how close he is to you. “Why? Are they not true?”

“I may flirt like there’s no tomorrow, but the truth is— I haven’t had sex in… months?”

You raise a brow, stunned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he affirms flatly. “I don’t get a lot of free time, you know? Leia’s been assigning me on missions one after the other. Then there’s those briefings upon my return plus strategy meetings, practice drills, blah blah blah... And when I’m finally done for the day, I barely have the energy to drag myself to the ‘fresher for a shower, let alone fuck someone’s brains out.”

“Huh, guess I was wrong about you,” you admit ruefully. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Poe smiles. He’s quiet as you observe him for a moment, averting his gaze before speaking again. “Not to mention, there’s this girl…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we haven’t been on the best of terms. She uh— actually despises me, I’m pretty sure.”

Could he be…? No. He couldn’t. It couldn’t be.

“She despises you?” You gasp in feign astonishment. “I mean, what’s there not to like?”

Poe cracks a breathy laugh at your sarcasm. “Exactly. But really, though— I was a total ass to her. Always picked fights with her over the stupidest shit, and I did it to push her away. Took a while to realize it, but I was falling for her. I still am, and I can’t have that. Not with what’s going on right now.”

“And did it work? Did it stop you from falling any further?”

He shakes his head, his voice a whisper now. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t do a damn thing. Every argument made me want her even more. Mostly because I find it hot and sexy when she gets super mad at me.”

“Gross.” You gently shove Poe’s shoulder, and he catches your hand as you begin to pull away. He holds it loosely at first, allowing you to freely slip out of his grasp should you choose to do so.

You don’t.

You remain still. Unmoving. It’s only Poe who moves after a passing breath, fingers slowly entwining with yours, and you let him. You let him, despite how intimate the gesture is. You aren’t his lover. Hell, you’re barely even friends. The term “enemies” no longer fits for some reason. You couldn’t call yourselves that. Not anymore. Not after his vague confession to you earlier.

“Before, when you said you really liked me, what did you mean by that?”

Your inquiry is met with a faint hum in response. A squeeze to your hand, then Poe releases it. He props himself on an elbow, his eyes melting into yours, and you lose yourself in those dark, endless pools. “You know what it means.”

“Poe—”

“— Can I kiss you?”

The world around you comes to an abrupt standstill. Your lips part to say the first thing your mind could think of, yet there is none.

Poe senses your hesitation. But when he starts to retreat, pretending he never said anything, you say his name in such a tenderness you’ve never done before.

“Yes,” was your answer. A small and straightforward yes— a word that has been teetering on the edge of your tongue as soon as Poe had asked.

Unknowingly, he’d spark a smoldering fire from deep within. The longer he lingers around you, the more it swells into an inferno, its hotness spreading like wildfire throughout your body.

Poe captures your lips in what was initially a chaste kiss, his hand tilting your chin upwards as your eyelids flutter shut. He moves slowly, slower than you anticipated, but it was sweet nonetheless. He kisses you as if time is endless, only stopping when you grab a fistful of his tee and swiftly tug him to settle between your legs.

“Eager, are we?” Poe simpers, watching as you caress the pads of your fingertips along his stubbled cheek.

“I can ask you the same thing,” you cheekily quip when you feel the bulge of his pants on your thigh. “Doesn’t take that much to get you hard, huh?”

“Only ’cause I’m with you, baby.” He shoots you an enticing wink, and heat rushes up to your face and down your core.

You’ve never seen Poe up close like this. Never have you noticed the kind warmth of his eyes. The way they glimmer in the low light reminds you of stars, all dazzling and bright, so full of life even in the midst of a war.

You don’t say it out loud; you’re too proud to admit it. But you could easily get lost while gazing into those eyes.

“A-Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Poe rasps, brows drawing together. “We don’t have to, and I don’t wanna fuck this up right after agreeing to start over and make it all weird—”

You cut Poe’s rambling short by crashing your lips against his, tangling your fingers in the mess of curls on his head. He responds with equal fervor. A fiery passion seeps into the kiss. Evident by the way his tongue slips past your lips, teasing and tasting until he takes the air out of your lungs.

A soft moan breaks free when Poe presses hot, open-mouth kisses down your throat, the sounds of your ragged breaths beating against your ears. “Off,” he directs impatiently, his hands already lifting the hem of your tee.

You’re quick to shed it off for him, snaking a hand to your back to unclasp your bra immediately after. Goosebumps engulf your entire body but no longer is it from the cold. Rather, it’s from the way Poe’s blackened eyes rake over your bareness, setting every inch of you alight in a blistering blaze.

“Like what you see, Dameron?”

Poe doesn’t reply right away. You follow his tipping gaze downwards to your bandaged wound. The curl of his lips falters ever so slightly— weighted guilt is now written all over his face, the sight of it heavy on your heart.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Doesn’t hurt that much anymore,” you soothe, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck. “Just… be gentle for now, I guess. We can do the rough stuff some other time.”

A charming grin slowly splits Poe’s face, and the flurry in your stomach intensifies. “You’re hoping for a next time, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes but find yourself unable to retract the statement. Yes, it had been a slip of the tongue, yet it isn’t the furthest thing from the truth.

“I’m hoping for a next time if this goes well,” you clarify as Poe kneels back on his haunches.

The blanket you were tucked underneath slides off his back, exposing you both to the chill of the night. Neither of you make an attempt to pull it up over your bodies. The proximity warded the coldness away.

“Oh, well, in that case, I gotta make sure this will be more than just “well” for you.”

Snorting, you gesture up and down at him. “Getting rid of your clothes would be a great start, don’t ya think?”

“You want me to strip for you, darling? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

Just as you were about to let out a scoff, a breath hitches in your throat. Poe peels away his shirt in one fluid movement, revealing his toned chest, sharp collarbones, and firm abs. You stare without blinking, unabashed. Your mouth goes dry as you graze over the soft and hard planes of his olive skin and muscles.

“Like what you see, Two?” Poe echoes your earlier words with a coy smile.

Your attention drifts down to the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his tented trousers. Dizzy and dazed, you wet your lips, and Poe fortunately takes the hint, his eyes never leaving yours as he proceeds to unfasten his pants. Tight black boxers hug his ample hips, the thick outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric of it.

Stars. You really do like what you see.

“I need you, Poe,” you croon, squirming when Poe bends down and cages you in his strong arms. “I need to feel you.”

“Need me, yeah?” Don’t worry, I got you, baby. I got you.”

You arch your back up to him, seeking relief by grinding into his throbbing erection. Doing so elicits a low groan from Poe, whose lips began to light a trail of fire along the valley of your breasts.

Needy moans fill his ears as Poe nips, sucks, and bites at one tender mound while a hand squeezes and kneads the other. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and index finger, sending a fresh wave of arousal coasting through you.

“Prettiest pair of tits I’ve ever seen.” Poe husks, his voice rich, smokey, and smooth. His mouth then descends to your stomach, planting hot kisses all the way down to your bottoms. “Can’t wait to see the rest of you.”

“Hmm… Only see?” You tease with a small quirk on your lips.

He cocks a brow at you, his deft fingers unbuttoning your pants before sliding them down your legs. “Why? You want me to touch you, baby? Want me to taste what’s down here?”

Poe traces your slit through your soaked underwear, purposefully adding only the slightest bit of pressure when he reaches your clit. A moan ripples through the air as he circles it lazily, tantalizingly.

“Look at you, already so wet for me. You want me so badly, huh?”

Keening and mewling at his graveled taunt, the desperation practically drips from you. You’re bucking your lower half towards him without restraint, and he’s flashing you the most shit-eating grin imaginable.

“Fuck. Poe, please… I need—” Your voice catches in your throat. You suck in a gasping breath, completely overwhelmed by the rough scratching of Poe’s five o’clock shadow on your inner thigh.

A sole press of his lips to your clothed pussy, he effortlessly rids your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him. He then dives right back into your sex, spreading your legs wide, and for a split second, he glances up with this look akin to a parched man who finds an oasis in you.

And you’d never forget it. Even if you wanted to— even if you decide that this would just be a one-time thing, you could never forget this entangled moment with him— with Poe.

Poe, whose dilated pupils brimming with lust you couldn’t— wouldn’t— forget. Nor his shallow, shaky exhale as he draws nearer, his steady grip on your hips tightening, digging.

He drags you closer to his mouth and whispers a low, sultry remark. Something along the lines of your pussy smelling so sweet, though you’re not entirely sure of it. You couldn’t be, not when your heartbeat is pounding furiously in your ears. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his nose nudging against your clit, his tongue delving its way inside you, and it has you seeing quite literal stars—

— then, less than a beat later, a whole fucking supernova.

Two fingers much thicker than your own slowly stretch you open. Poe’s name comes out of you as a trembling plea, and the cocky bastard finds amusement in your reaction. He peers at you through thick lashes, his knuckle-deep, beckoning digits working your cunt, tongue flicking and swirling around your swollen clit.

Tugging at his hair harshly, you writhe under Poe’s ministrations, and it forces him to adjust his hold on you. He has your hips roughly pinned down, eating you out vigorously until your toes curl and your legs shake in pure ecstasy.

Poe brings you to climax faster than anyone has ever had. Including yourself. It has your body quivering beneath him uncontrollably, firing up white jolts of pleasure into every nerve ending within you. Your vision is hazy and unfocused, muscles weak and feeble. The only movement you have enough strength to do is reach down to meekly tap on Poe’s arm as he laps at your dripping pussy.

“You enjoy yourself, sweetheart?” he says, voice an octave lower yet full of smugness. “Seems like you did.”

You hum softly, taking in how Poe looks kneeling between your thighs. Desire pools in your belly again as your heavy-lidded eyes rake over his face appreciatively. His chin glistens with your juices. He darts his tongue out to lick his reddened lips, and you have to swallow a moan as he lifts his fingers— the very same fingers that fucked you to the point where you swear you’d pass out— up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Poe makes a show of it, too, closing his eyes in delight and groaning at the taste.

And you wonder what he exactly thinks of it— how divine you taste. Does he think you’re sweet on your tongue? Tangy? You don’t need to ask if he liked it, of course. The cock twitching in his garments tells you all that you need to know. And fuck, if Poe is that good with merely his hands and his mouth, you could only imagine how mind-blowing it might be once he’s inside of you.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you ignore the spark of pain shooting up your side. Poe quickly notices your discomfort and gently urges you to lay back down, looming over you. “But I wanna—”

He silences you with a searing kiss, tasting your own essence lingering on his tongue as it glides against yours. You palm Poe through his boxers and revel at how stiff and big he is. You wish that he would let you take care of him the way he took care of you.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” Poe mumbles breathlessly as your fingers dip under the edge of the final article of clothing separating the two of you. “Next time, baby. I promise. I’ll let you suck on my dick once we’re back home. Until then, I’m gonna make sure that you stay warm all night long…”

Poe hungrily devours your mouth once more, helping you pull his underwear the rest of the way off. You tear yourself away from the kiss and drag your eager gaze down to the rigid length poking at your hip. You had no doubt that his cock would be as gorgeous as the rest of him, but it was much, much more than what you pictured in your mind.

Thick, long, with a delicious slight curve to it. Your mouth instinctively waters at the sight. You know it would be reaching places deep in you that haven’t been touched in so long. It’ll leave you a soreness lasting for one or two days, maybe even more if he really does fuck like a god, or so the gossips would have it. You don’t doubt that either— you wholeheartedly believe in it already.

A gasp erupts from Poe’s throat when you seize his erection, your fingers barely closing around the girthiness of him. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, and you stroke him nice and slow, smearing the slick precum leaking from the tip all over his veiny shaft.

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, you bask in the pretty noises Poe makes right under your ear. You jerk him faster now. Your fist constricts around him as he pants heavily into your skin, reducing the always-headstrong and mouthy Poe Dameron into a mess of grunts and moans.

And you like it. You like seeing him this way— absolutely wrecked by the touch of your hand.

“S-Stop, stop,” he chokes out, covering your hand with his own and abruptly stilling your actions. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep it up. Gotta feel that pretty pussy of yours before that happens. Fuckin’ need to be inside you first, baby.”

Poe sucks at your pulse point, and you wordlessly nod through the haze of euphoria. The rise and fall of your chest hasten as you watch him grip his member and glide it along your drenched folds, coating himself with your shining wetness. You roughly claw your fingernails on his back and roll your hips. The blunt head of his cock slips upwards, crashing into your clit, and you have to forcefully bite down on your lip to stifle a scream.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, beautiful. You don’t have to worry about being heard. It’s only me here. It’s only us.”

“No more teasing. Please, Poe. Please…” you beg and beg, glossy eyes connecting with his hooded ones. Though the remnants of your high have ebbed away, you’re still tense— wound up like a tight little spring. The knot in your stomach waits to be uncoiled. An unraveling not possible without the feeling of him moving in and out of you. “Just fuck me, baby. Get in me now and fuck me, Poe. Make me feel good.”

There’s a flicker of something carnal crossing Poe’s face, and you catch it for a flitting second until you follow his lust-clouded gaze as it falls to the hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He’s leaned in close to you, his warm breath tickling your heated skin as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your pulse beats in your temples; beads of sweat pebble your forehead, and the blood in your veins simmer hot at him finally pushing in, leaving you gasping for air.

“S-shit…” Poe growls, slowly sinking into your cunt. It’s a burning stretch as he enters, the tight wet heat of your walls fluttering to accommodate the thickness of him. You hike your leg around his waist, shifting the angle, and he plunges in even deeper, fully bottoming out. “Fuck— baby, you’re squeezing me so hard. God, your pussy feels fucking amazing around my dick. G-gimme a sec, sweetheart. I-I need a sec— just… hang on…”

Breathing harshly through his nose, Poe strains to maintain some semblance of control, jaw setting taut and eyes screwing shut as he holds you still. His calloused fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, marking you with bruises purple and blue.

You clench around him even though you’re trying your damndest best not to. You want to last—want him to last, but you couldn’t help it. Never have you had a cock like his buried in you. It’s almost laughable how cockdrunk you are even when he hasn’t done much except touch the deepest depths of your pussy.

“You alright, darling?” Poe checks, running his thumb gently across your cheek. His voice is much softer, much more intimate. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” you purr as you crane your neck to kiss him languidly, feeling his smile.

Soon, you’re rocking your pelvis shallowly into Poe, encouraging him to move. He lets out a broken moan at the sensation. He hooks his arm under your leg to grant himself better leverage, dropping his head to your shoulder, and begins thrusting in and out, then in and out.

Before requesting him to be gentle, you’d expect Poe— and yes, you’ve thought about what he was like in the sack, mainly because everyone did— to be frantic, brutal, and punishing. Mercilessly fuck you to a reckless oblivion. The bunk-breaking type of romp that would have immensely pissed off those living in proximity to your quarters.

This isn’t that. This isn’t what you had imagined, not for the very first time, at least. Poe’s pounding into you at a steady and smooth pace. It’s tender and gentle and slow, hitting all the right spots and a part of you believes that this is more than just a simple fuck for him. This is him showing that he does care about you. That he’s sorry for the constant fights and regrets being an asshole to you, for hurting you.

This is genuine— meant to be something much more profound. To convince you that you’re worth more to him than he had led you to think.

Once again, your assumptions about him have been proven wrong. Poe truly isn’t the man you thought you had all figured out.

And you start believing in it. You accept it from the way Poe holds you close, his chest flushed against yours as he whispers sweet praises into the shell of your ear. He’s gazing down at you with this dreamy, yearning look on his face, the kind that makes your heart swell and your cunt grips him like a vice. His soft groans blend harmoniously with your pitchy moans, and they meld with the wet sounds of skin on skin, echoing all throughout.

It’s beautiful. It’s obscene. Sensual, steamy, and provocative. You wanted more, needed more direly. You’re so close, dangerously teetering on the brink of another shattering orgasm. Poe is determined to push you over the edge a second time, staving off his own release until you reach yours.

Your hands rove down Poe’s perspiring back, fingers lightly dancing along his spine before cupping the generous curves of his ass. A smirk tugs at Poe’s at the corner of his lips when you knead the fleshy cheeks into your palms possessively. You don’t have to tell him how much you love his derriere. You make no effort to hide your appreciation as you grope and massage him, catching his mouth in a feverish kiss that has your senses reeling.

“F-Fuck, Poe—I’m co- I’m coming…”

The heels of your feet replace your wandering hands, digging into Poe’s ass and urging him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper. And he complies so easily, hips snapping at a more frenzied pace as he brings his fingers down to rub at your clit. You toss your head back, quickly losing yourself to the overwhelming friction dragging against your slick walls, the ache in your core growing and spreading and burning. A fire scorching hot on the verge of being extinguished.

And when it does— when you fall apart at last— you dissolve into an all-consuming crescendo of pleasure. The pressure that has been building and building and building with each heavy slam of his cock suddenly snaps, triggering shockwaves to burst outwards.

At that moment, Poe is all that exists in the world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but his touch, his scent, his voice. You barely realize how he’s riding out your climax for as long as he could, suppressing his desire to let go just to take in the way you crumble underneath him. For him.

You grow limp, boneless, and sate as the blissful quakes start to subside, your velvet walls pulsing and clamping down on Poe, whose control has now wholly slipped away.

“Where…shit— W-Where do you want it?” Poe sputters out, balls smacking against your pussy as his rhythm becomes messy, sloppy, and erratic. “W-Where?”

“Inside,” you croak before a strangled whimper tears from your throat at his fervent thrusts. “Come in me, Poe. It’s okay, do it, baby. I want you to come inside me—”

With one final piercing shove, Poe’s body goes rigid, spilling thick hot ropes of his cum deep inside you. You feel the warmth of it gushing into your spasming sex as you milk him dry and he’s stuttering forward, slowly pushing his seed as far as he can. His face contorts, eyes squeezing tightly shut and mouth slacking open to set free a wanton moan in the shape of your name.

The two of you are breathless. Spent, sticky, and sweaty as you regain steady heart rates and the oxygen in your lungs. Poe eventually pulls out his softening member and slumps to the side, careful not to crush you below. You whine at the loss of him— at the loss of his fullness that leaves you hollow and raw.

A warm mixture of his release and your juices dribbles out of you, cooling on your inner thighs. You don’t have it in you to wipe yourself up, and when Poe tries to after a minute, you wrap your arms around his neck and lock him in an embrace.

“Don’t,” you quietly plead with a soft kiss on his lips. “S’alright, just… stay.”

And stay, Poe does. He spoons you from behind, an arm draped over your waist while his legs tangled with yours. Poe nestles his face into your damp hair, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you hold his hand and twine your fingers together.

“Didn’t peg you as a cuddler, Two,” he murmurs dozily. “I like it.”

“Gotta preserve the heat, right?” You return cheekily, snuggling deeper into him as his warmth envelopes you.

This is nice, you muse. This feels nice.

You suppose that you like it, too.

Exhaustion washes over you. The stillness of the cavern, the crackling of the flames, and the calming sound of Poe’s exhales all lull you to sleep. You don’t know how long you’ll have until the sun rises and it’s daylight outside. Nor do you have any clue on what awaits you and him other than your rescue.

You’re overthinking everything again.

As if he could hear it happening, Poe tightens his arm around you, his nose grazing along the back of your shoulder before pecking a light kiss there.

“Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

This time, you listen.

And despite the lack of a comfy bed, you drift into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a while with Poe by your side.

—

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

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