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waffles-art-writing · 9 months

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Can you do Ghost(mw2) x female reader who is like Yor from spy x family(the jobs she has not the personality)

Female reader also has a child

COD MWII Ghost x Female!Assassin!Reader. (Reader has a child)

Summary: You’re recalled from retirement of being an Assassin, your daughter being your main priority. You end up going back into the field with Task Force 141. After the mainly successful mission, Ghost takes you home after finding out you’re injured but not sever enough to need to go to the medical wing. You share a soft moment with the cold lieutenant, showing the side of the quiet man no one has seen. The next morning the babysitter drops your daughter back home, your young child coming home to a surprise and a face she hasn’t seen since she was a wee babe.

Proofread: Kinda???? Not really

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Female Assassin (AFAB)

Age Rating: 16+

Codename: *Whatever you want it to be*

KEY: Y/N - Your Name. L/N - Last Name. C/N - Codename

Warning/Info: FLUFF!!!! Soft!Ghost, Injury Description, COD Violence, Female!Reader, Weapons. It is reasonably long. Call Of Duty Comic Description of Ghost.

If you want a part 2 please comment!!! <3 :) (PART TWO)

I apologise for the lack of posting, stuff irl has been picking up a lot and I will not be able to post as much as I wish I could. And I am applying for a new job which will result in me having to spend less and less time on here. :( but I’ll update when I can.

A screeching sound pierces through your calm, soundless sleep. The ear piercing sound making you groan, rolling over, smacking your hand onto your nightstand, slapping the screen of your phone. The sound comes to a halt, you look at the time. Eyes widening, you didn’t set the earlier alarm. “Shit shit shit.” You curse out, stumbling to pull on some pants, tossing a shirt over your head as you dash down the hall. Stopping to peek into your daughters room, who is fast asleep, covers pulled up to her chin, a foot sticking out of the bed to the side.

A soft smile spreads across your lips as you look at her. Her hair a mess on the pillow, hands wrapped around her stuffed dog toy, snuggled into it. You move away from the door, continuing on your mission to the bathroom, pulling your hair back into a messy bun. Life has been hectic ever since putting your job as an assassin on hold so you can have your daughter, and not end up losing her cause you’re not around enough. Only two people knew about you and your daughter, both of them still working well and truly.

You flick on the bright light in the bathroom, you look towards the mirror. Dark circles rest under your eyes, hair tousled and messy despite it being pulled up in a messy bun. You lean against the bathroom counter, turning the tap on to brush your teeth. Suddenly your phone vibrates, the sound echoing around the cold room, almost amplifying the sound. You tap the green button on the screen not looking who it was.

“Hello?” You answer, your voice quiet to not wake your daughter.

“Morning L/N.” The deep gravely voice of Price comes from the speakers, it almost sends a chill down your spine. You haven’t been called this early by him in a long while. “Morning John, is there something you need?” You cut straight to the point, not wanting to beat around the bush as to why he is calling you so early in the morning, on a week day of all days.

“Straight to the point as always I see. Yes, we need your expertise for an overview of a mission- Yes I know, before you even complain I know you aren’t in the field anymore, or thats what most say but Laswell says otherwise.” You roll your eyes, of course he would know you still do the occasional job but you haven’t done one for years, you aren’t even sure as to how he thinks you could help. “Mission Overview? What could I possibly help with?” You question, your hands running under the cold water to splash it onto your face.

“Its an Capture or kill mission and if the time comes and we, y’know gotta send the target on their merry way to an early grave, we want you to give us an idea on how we should do it.”

“And why can’t you guys figure it out?”

“L/N we need you for this, its a complicated mission… I myself want you in the field and execute this yourself…”

You sigh, running a hand down your face. You worked for KorTac - a mercenary group - and you assisted Price and his team the Task Force 141 on occasion. But you mainly worked solo, the Task Force 141 never met you, other than Price and Laswell. You met Ghost as well, you both stay in contact occasionally, only in case of emergencies… well more like, needing a ride from the base back home on the very rare occasion he decides to go home.

“Pay?” You ask.

“Whatever your rate is, kid.” He replies.

“Good. I’ll be there in 3 hours.” You hear Price reply with confirmation before hanging up the phone. Your fingers drum against the counter.

Okay, cool, doing another job, nothing new right? Just been out of the field for a few years, just gotta warm up a bit thats all… Right?

———

“Okay behave, don’t do anything silly and listen to your teachers. And remember to listen to Amber’s parents okay? Have a good day and a fun sleepover.” You say to your daughter - Emilia - kissing her forehead. “Yep!” She chimes, a smile spread across her cheeks, her braids neatly tucked up into a ponytail. “Good, Love you.” You smile, pulling her into a hug. “Love you too Mama.” She squeezes her arms around your neck, your crouched form still larger than her. Once you let go, she waves goodbye, running into school towards her friends. You smile, quickly turning around to walk towards the car park.

You make your way towards the dark blue sedan you bought far too long ago, still surprised it still works. Your face falls when you see a figure leaning against the hood of it, hands in their pockets, clad in black. Including a cap and what looks like a skull balaclava. You sigh, knowing who it is. Its not a common thing to see people walk around in a skull print mask and clad in full black.

“Lieutenant…” You greet when you reach him, he stands up and nods to you. “C/N…. Or should I call you Miss L/N?” He pokes, his dead pan tone not helping his remark to come across as teasing. You shake your head with a smile, unlocking the car. “I’m assuming you’ve been sent to make sure I end up coming right?”

Ghost shrugs, a small nod accompanying it. “We can’t be too careful…” He states, climbing into the passenger seat as you get into the drivers side. “Right… whatever you say Ghost.” You huff, buckling yourself in as you pull out of the car parking.

———

“The mission will be tough, but I brought an old acquaintance along to help us plan out a strategy. Boys, meet C/N. She has worked with me in the past and used to work for the Mercenary ground KorTac, she now works solo for the government.” Price states as you stand at the front of the room.

“Hello, Yes before you ask I’m what some call an ‘assassin’. I work solo but I haven’t worked in the field for some years now, as I have had other things going on. But I am still qualified to assist you boys in any way to make sure this mission is a success.” You pause, locking eyes with Ghost, he knows you’re nervous to be here again. You continue to inform them the best strategies for them to be able to do this unnoticed, especially while inside.

———

It’s the day of the mission, you managed to get a babysitter for Emilia. She wasn’t all too happy about you leaving for a few days, but you said you’ll be back in not time, and have a gift for her. Which is partly true, you just hope nothing goes south and cause you to stay away longer than you planned. You want to be back by the weekend, or at least before the new school week starts.

Your plan to stay out of the field didn’t last long, Gaz ended up falling sick with food poisoning, pretty bad food poisoning from the amount of time he spent in the bathroom or medical bay yesterday. Still having an upset gut this morning when you arrived at an ungodly hour in the morning, having just dropped Emilia off at the baby sitters.

The team is communicating back and forth over the comms, you’ve managed to infiltrate the building where the target is. The slick walls on the outside not making the job easier. You are definitely a lot less fit than what you thought you were, but still fit enough to keep up with the team and your job on this mission.

Assassinate the target, and get the hell home.

Simple right? Yeah really simple, if it wasn’t a great big warehouse like building with barely any cover or high points for you to use to your advantage.

———

“Got eyes on the target.” You whisper into the comms, slinking along the beams that support the A-Frame ceiling of the warehouse. “Copy that, Ready when you are C/N.” Price states, Ghost and Soap stating something of confirmation.

You step lightly across the beam, your light footwork going unnoticed by the man littering the floor below you. There’s a catwalk just below you, one armed guard standing at a door that leads into the office where your target sits, back to the door and window that overviews the factory.

The guard walks up and down the cat walk intermittently, observing everything below him. Never above him. How stupid.

As soon as the guard passes by under you, reaching a part in the catwalk railing that’s solid sheet metal. You jump down, landing lightly on your feet, the sounds of the factory drowning out your movement. Crouched low you sneak up behind him, slicing the backs of legs, right through the tendons that keep him standing. You spring up, hand covering his mouth to keep him silent. Other arm wrapping around to the front, quick jerk to the side. Lights out.

You gently lay his limp body down, tucking him up against the metal barrier.

“Guards out, preparing to breach the targets office.” You communicate. “Be careful C/N.” Ghost states over the Comms, both him and Soap just downstairs at the entrance, ready to breach if anything goes sideways. “Always am.” You hear Soap snort at your reply as Price growls at you all to focus.

Your skilful hands test the door, it doesn’t budge, the window that’s just a foot or two away from the edge of the cat walk is open. Either pick lock the door and risk getting caught with your back to the open or swing in through the open window and possibly fall and either hurt your self, die, or break all your bones then die by one of the other guards bullets. Either way you could end up dead.

Window.

Quickest way in.

———

The mission was a success, you managed to get into the room, secure the target and kill them. Clean and quietly. Getting out was a different mission entirely, one of the guards spotted the fact they couldn’t see another guard on the cat walk. They investigated and found the slumped body of the dead guard. Immediately yelling for the alarm to be pulled.

Ghost and Soap busted in to draw their attention to them and away from the office, all you had to do was get the fuck out and get to the extraction point. You managed to slip out the window on the far side of the office, but not without being nicked by the a few bullets.

You manage to sprint across the roof, throwing yourself off the edge and landing on top of a large truck with a large thump. You cough harshly, feeling like your ribs got smashed by a sledge hammer. You stumble to your feet, slipping off the side of the truck and sprinting towards the back fence of the compound, you glance to your right, seeing Ghost and Soap climbing the wall quickly. You fling yourself into the fence, dragging yourself over the top, thankful theres not barbed wire.

“C/N? You good?” Soap calls over the comms, you can hear he’s breathless, the faint sound of Ghost in the background barking orders out to the extraction chopper to start the engine. “Y-Yeah…” You wheeze, rushing through the brush of the forest, weaving in and out of trees heading uphill towards the small clearing the chopper is situated in. Your lungs burn, the cold air stinging your eyes and cheeks. The adrenaline numbing the pain in your leg and arm, your ribs still feeling like you’re wearing a corset.

You stumble into the clearing, Ghost and Soap a few paces ahead, the lieutenant spins around. Noticing you’ve arrived, Soap running to the chopper. You nod to Ghost as you approach, Ghost waits for you to pass before following after you into the chopper. You slump down into the uncomfortable chair of the helicopter, adjusting to keep your ribs from being pushed on by the seat strap.

Both the men ask if you’re okay, you wave them off chuckling while wheezing out a “Just a little unfit is all.” Soap chuckles, Ghost just shakes his head lightly, moving forward to signal for the chopper to get you all out of there.

———

Once back in England and on base you get a phone call from the babysitter a normal thing, it’s almost eight thirty in the evening “Hello?” You ask, bringing the phone to your ear as you walk down path towards the entrance of the base, car parked not too far front he entrance. “Hey Miss L/N! Lizzie here, I was just gonna put Emilia to bed. Are you free to talk to her?” The babysitter Lizzie states, it’s almost like a nightly ritual. Every night that you’re not home, whoever is looking after your daughter will call to see if your available to say goodnight to Emilia.

“Yeah I’m free.” You state, stopping at the end of the path by the entrance of the main building, sitting down on the bench outside. You hear Lizzie talking to Emilia, your daughter sounding tired but excited. “MAMA!” She calls through eh phone, you smile a and laugh lightly hearing your daughters voice warms your heart, her sweet voice making you happy. “Hey pumpkin. You behaving?” You ask her, having a teasing tone. “Yeah! We got to watch a movie while eating dinner!” She states happily, you smile listening to her talk about what happened throughout the day.

The door opens and closes, Ghost slips out into the cold evening. His eyes spot you off to the side, its dusk, the flood lights not coming on just yet. He can see your breath in the cold air, billowing out past your lips. His own breath billowing out into the air as he pulls his mask up, he leans against the small wall of the entrance staircase. He shoves he cigarette between his lips, cupping his hands around the flame of the lighter. He hears your laugh, it echos into the evening air. Its warm and light to his ears, his eyes flick up to watch you. He’s too far away to hear what you’re talking about.

You bid Emilia goodnight, shutting off your phone as you shoved it into your jacket pocket. Sighing as you search your small duffle bag for your keys, knowing you threw them in there. You wince, groaning as you lean over, gripping your side with ragged breaths.

Ghost pushes off the wall as soon as he sees you double over on the bench, showing pain. “Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He mumbles, flicking his cigarette in front of his boot and stomping it out. Stopping over the smouldering ashes to crouch down in front of you, pulling his mask down quickly as he kneels. “C/N what’s wrong?” He asks, his voice stern as he looks at your scrunched face, pain obvious across your expression. “My ribs- I… I thought they were just bruised.” You wheeze out, sitting back to look at him. His hands ghost over your knees as he stands, sitting next to you.

“Let me check, we don’t want you to go home with broken bones. Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, motioning for you to shrug off your jacket. “Just a few grazes from a bullet but I handled them, they weren’t deep.” You groan, pulling your jacket off, your thick jersey and shirt thankfully being warm enough in the crisp air. “Okay, may I touch your ribs? Under your jumper?” The taller man asks, you nod your head turning slightly so your back is facing him. His glove clad hands snake under your jersey and shirt, ghosting over your waist up to your ribs.

“Did you land on your back or front?” He asks, his fingers delicately pressing against your rib cage. “Front, kinda threw myself off the roof onto a truck roof…” you state, flinching when his hands snake around to your front, right under the hem of your sports bra. Rough gloves pressing into your ribs. You wine, flinching away from his hands. “Ow- Watch it lieutenant…” you snap, your body disagreeing with your sudden movements. “M’sorry” he mumbles, he pulls his hands back. Laying your jacket across your shoulders again. “Well nothing is broken from what I could tell, but you’re not driving.” He states, standing from his spot next to you and grabbing your duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You look at him confused, a brow raise as you slip your arms through eh jacket again, fixing your jersey and shirt in the process. You stand, looking up at the large man. “What? I need to get home, what the hell do you mean Ghost?” You ask, tone almost angry. “I’m driving you home, you shouldn’t drive when you have damaged ribs.” He states, keeping his explanation to a minimum. You sigh shaking your head as you follow him, he ready knows where your car is. You both arrived in the same vehicle so thankfully he remembered where you parked.

———

The drive back to your place was quiet, the occasional question, or observation. Ghost helps you out of your car, his hand ghosting over the small of your back guiding you up the stairs of the small apartment. “You didn’t have to walk me to my door, Ghost.” You state, unlocking the door and pushing the door open. Toeing off your boots by the door and dumping your bag on the couch as you walk past it, Ghost follows you in, leaving his boots by the door while closing it and locking it. He immediately walks towards your bathroom, he’s been here a few times, he knows the layout like the back of his hand. “Ghost? The hell are-” “Finding your med kit, take your shirt off, I need to properly check your ribs.” You stare down the corridor towards the bathroom with a shocked expression. You throw your coat over the back of the couch, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, passing it towards your bedroom at the end of the hallway. “I’m in my room just so you know.” You call out, grabbing the hem of your jersey, wincing when you tug it up.

You jump at the feeling of calloused hands resting over yours. “G-Ghost?” You stutter, feeling his presence behind you, his breathing quiet and muffled by his mask. “Let me help.” He offers, more like stating he is going to help you even if you deny it. You lift your arms above your head, wincing at the movement. He tugs the heavy fabric carefully over your head, throwing it over to the hamper in the corner. You wince you turn around, looking up at the taller man. “Why… Why are you doing this?” You ask, brows furrowed.

“You go n’one else to help you, and I know that you wouldn’t get help.” He states, gently pulling your dark shirt up and over your head as well, your sports bra on full display. Ghost’s eyes linger on your chest for a second before quickly adverting his eyes to the medkit on your bed. “Sit down.” He mumbles as he opens the small bag, kneeling down in front of you. You sit with your arms tucked around your stomach, conscious of how you look.

You have always been conscious of your body, especially after your pregnancy. Your tummy never got back to as toned and flat as it was before. Stretch marks paint your hips and thighs, and your lower abdomen like tiger stripes, rough to the touch and unpleasant to look at. Ghost grabs the anti inflammatory cream from the kit, pulling his gloves off and warming the cream up in his hands. You stare at the movement of his hands, mind wandering to thoughts you never thought you would have again.

What would his hands feel like, I wonder if his touch is soft - he lays wears gloves maybe he has soft hands? Maybe they are rough, like his personality. What his he doesn’t like what I look like and thinks I’m disgusting, what if he thinks pathetic for being in pain. What if-

“Y/n?” Ghost asks, he’s being saying your name for the past few moments. You snap your attention back to him, letting out a small ‘huh?’ When you notice him looking at you with slightly furrowed brows. “Can I put the cream on?” He asks, his voice quiet, his hands resting on your legs, palms facing up with the cream smeared across them. “Oh… uh yeah…” A small blush of embarrassment paints your cheeks as you sit straighter, arms resting across your tummy. Ghost watches you sit up properly, reluctant to move your arms. He attempts to work around your arms, gently spreading the cream across your ribs. His hands are calloused but his touch his soft but firm enough to make sure the cream spreads.

“…Love, I need you to move your arms…” He states softly, his eyes looking up to yours, his soft with concern. You furrow your brows, looking away as you move your arms, the yellow light from your lamp glowing softly across your skin. The light bumped stretch marks marring your skin, the deep colour a large contrast against the rest of your skin, most of them have lightened but a few are still dark. You flinch when you feel his hands move lower along your rib cage.

He hasn’t said anything, quiet, like always, eyes analysing everything he is doing in great detail.

He finishes rubbing the cream in after gently lifting the side of your sports bra to get under the cloth, gently massaging the cream into your sore body. “Its still going to be bruise to shit, you’ll have to be careful…” He mumbles, he gently takes your left arm into his hands, peeling back the bandage you haphazardly wrapped around while back on the base. He smears the residue of the cream around the wound, “You did a good job at cleaning it…. Just half assed bandage” he teases lightly, re wrapping your arm with a clean bandage.

You shrug, handing your head, eyes trained on his knee thats pressing into the plush carpet of your room. The same carpet you paid too much money for and installed it yourself while almost 3 months pregnant. A lot of tears have been shed on this carpet, some blood but mainly tears. You hear him say something, your mind elsewhere as you mindlessly shake your head. Not a hundred percent sure on what you were disagreeing too.

You never noticed how detailed his tattoo is, its on display as he takes his jacket off, rolling his long sleeve up. The permanent ink thats been delicately painted into his skin stand out against the rest of his pale skin tone. The scars he’s gained after the tattoo break the ink in small lines, mostly the ink has stayed. His hands are large, rough but gentle. He’s always been a tough and scary man on the outside but you can see he has the same needs as anyone else. Love, affection and care… even partnership. Yes he has the team but he needs something more, but he’s scared, hesitant. Horrified if he gets too attached or too close with someone he cares about he will lose them, he’s terrier he will do the wrong thing, scare them off, pained himself in the a bad light he’s always been known to hold.

Ghost eventually gets to check the bullet graze on your thigh, its shallow. Still needing antibiotic cream and a new bandage, your track pants that unzip up your mid thigh are scrunched up around your hips and upper thigh as he works on your injury. Mumbling something as you hold the clothing out of the way.

“…Can you stay the night?”

Ghost’s movements cease for a brief moment, his breathing stilling as he glances up at you then back down at the bandage he’s wrapping around your thigh. You stay silent, looking at him. Hands itching to do something, but you can’t.

“…Sure…” he replies after a moment.

You nod your head, happy that he agreed. A little anxious despite the fact you know him, he knows you. Fuck he even knows your daughter since she was a wee babe, but hasn’t seen her for some years. She probably won’t remember him at all. She was barely three when he met her, she’s now turning six in a week.

Ghost zips your track pants back up, pulling the fabric down your leg. His hands linger on your covered calf. Fingers pressing in the muscle gently as he stares blankly. You can see he’s thinking, thinking to the point of being motionless. You lean forward, ignoring the slight pain thats throbbing throughout your body. You reach down a tap his hand thats on your calf, knowing he isn’t fond of physical touch. “Ghost…” you whisper, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

He snaps his head up to look at you, eyes set at a hard glare which soften slightly when he realises its you. You give him a soft smile. “You okay?” You ask softly, his hands falling away from your calf, the warmth going with it. You miss it, the comforting weight and warmth of his large hands gripping your calf. He nods his head as he cleans his throat, standing to clean up the med kit and discard of the old bandages. “Yeah, I’ll be right back… Get uh…” he pauses glancing over at you when he turns to walk to the door. “Change and get into bed, I’ll get you water an a pain killer.” He states, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Ghost shuts the door softly, careful to not slam it. He glances down at his watch. 2245 (10:45pm) he groans quietly, nudging the bathroom door open again the put the med kit back in the sink cabinet.

Why the hell did I agree to stay? What the fuck is wrong with me? Her skin was so soft… Her stretch marks were fucking amazing- FUCK I can’t think like this. I need to stop thinking like this, we are friends… are we even friends? What is she hates me and Is only offering for me to stay out of sympathy or it being late? God she has a kid, I can’t just barge into their life and be the man they see with their mother. I’m not a go-

His thoughts get cut short when he spots a photo of the fridge door, one side of it ripped, torn off. He reaches up and slides it out from under the sunflower magnet. The photo is of you, smiling as bright as the sun thats beaming in through the tree tops. Emilia is cradled in your arms, clearly only a few months old. Her big eyes beaming in sunlight, same colour as yours. Ghost’s fingers trace the ripped edge of the photo, he knew who was supposed to be there. He quickly pins it back to the fridge before taking the pain killers and water to your room.

———

You watch as Ghost places the bottle of water and pain killers on the bedside table. You’re sitting in bed, bag t-shirt and shorts. You look up at ghost, patting the bed next to you. Ghost stares for a moment, shocked you want him in your bed and not to just crash on the couch.

He opens his mouth to deny but you beat him to it. “You aren’t sleeping on that piece of shit couch, you’re staying in here with me. And thats final.” You state, tone firm. Ghost looks from you to the open space on the king sized bed next to you. His eyes flickering back and forth over and over again. “Sleeping on top of the blankets.” He mumbles out, knowing we won’t be able to get past your stubborn attitude, you’re a mother. You know how to get your way. You smile, a soft one of reassurance. You throw a spare shirt at him and point towards the box in the corner.

“Stole this from you a year ago cause you forgot to take it with you after you did your washing here…” You chuckle lightly, “The box should have some basketball shorts or something you can wear. They were my brothers that he gave to me when I was pregnant cause they were bigger than my clothes.” Ghost just nods, crouching down in front of the box and searching through it, he knows you would be angry at him if he slept in his clothes he wore that day.

He looks over at you then towards the lamp next to you, you get the idea and turn over. Back facing him, hand resting on the switch to turn it off as soon as you feel the bed dip behind you. It feels like an eternity for him to lay on the bed, even though he’s on top of the covers. You can hear a small groan emitting from his side of the bed, you flick the switch. The room delving into darkness, the only light peeking out from under our door, the nightlight that sits in the hallway for Emilia happily lighting under the dark corridor.

It quiet, apart from your breathing and Ghost’s muffled breaths, and the starting pitter patter of rain hitting the window. You turn to lay on your back, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“Thank you.”

Your soft words break the silence, Ghost looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s laying like a dead man, straight as board, hands clasped together over his stomach as he looks towards the ceiling.

He hums in response, he turns his head to look at you properly, the dim light from the hallway making it practically impossible to see anything, but his eyes have adjusted easily. He reaches over to clasp your hand thats resting on your own stomach overtop the blankets. Squeezing it softly, letting you know he heard you. A small smile creeps up onto your lips. You turn onto your side, facing him now. He copies your action, bodies mirroring each other as your hands lay clasped together between the two of you. You let out a small sigh, his hand squeezes yours when he hears the heavy breath.

“Emilia would’ve jumped in between us if she was here, she doesn’t like when it starts raining late at night.” You state, smiling to yourself as you trace Ghost’s broad silhouette in the dark room. The small amount of light peeking through the thing curtains behind him on the far side of the room. “So she’s scared of rain?” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the quiet, the gravel in his voice hoarse but still has a soft tone to it as he tries to talk quietly.

You shrug, unsure what she’s actually scared of. “I think it’s more when it suddenly pours down and it’s dark, the sound and lack of light scares her.” You hum, still trying to figure out what your daughter is scared of, even though you have reassure her many times that its just rain. You hear the deep rumble of Ghost making a humming like sound, like he’s thinking.

“Well… I’m sure there’s no monsters, you’re scary enough” he teases, squeezing your hand. You feign hurt, gasping and swatting his chest lightly. A giggle leaving you, a small, breathy almost non existent chuckle rumbles from Ghost’s chest. “God, if the Ghost thinks I’m scary, I really must be.” You laugh, teasing him back. Your ribs hurt from your laughter, but you’re too caught up in the fact you are hearing the one and only Lieutenant Riley laughing, laying on your bed, your hand in his.

“Nah, yer alright. You’re scary, but not as scary as Price when he hasn’t had his morning coffee” he jokes, tugging you closer slightly, he’s still on top of the blankets. His arm wrapping around your waist, careful on your sore ribs. “That’s true.” You agree, laughing softly as you place a hand on his chest, feather lightly touches run along your back. Your head tucked under his chin, his mask still on. Thankfully he didn’t wear the hard skull one and just a simple fabric one with a skull print.

Your laughter slowly ceases, breathing going back to normal. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you speak up again.

“Thank you again… This means a lot Ghost.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Simon…”

“What?”

“Call me Simon…”

Your eyes widen at his words, a warm feeling flooding your chest as you tuck your face into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Thank you Simon.”

“Anytime Y/n”

His words were barely a whisper, you fall back into silence. Its nice, the heat from his body keeping you warm, eating your pain in a way you didn’t think was possible. The pain killers probably taking most the credit for the lack of pain, yet the sense of security and comfort falls over you. Your eyes slide shut, breathing evening out as sleep pulls you into the depths of slumber.

“Goodnight, Love.”

————

You walk out of your room, hair messy, rubbing your eyes, feet padding across the hardwood of the hallway. Mind still in sleep mode. You round the corner into the kitchen from the hallway, bumping into something… more like someone. You wobble as you lose your balance, arms snake around your waist quickly, pulling you close.

“Careful, I don’t wanna take you to the hospital cause you broke your ass.” A deep voice chuckles, you look up, bleary eyed and confused. “O-Oh… Sorry Gho- Simon…” You apologies, rubbing a hand down your face with a groan, leaning your forehead against his chest. He’s changed into his cargo pants from the day before, same shirt from last night. It fits a little tight across his chest and his biceps but not too tight.

“Drinks on the coffee table, go sit down.” He states, his voice still laced with sleep. You look at him confused, glancing over at the coffee table. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.” You state, walking over to the couch and slumping into it.

“I’m not the one who looks like I got ran over by a bus.” He teases as he walks over, bowl of fruit in hand and more painkillers and a glass of water. You thank him as he hands them to you, he sits next to you on the couch. “Feeling any better?” He asks, voice quiet. You nod your head, scooping some fruit into your mouth. The comfortable quiet gets broken by a knock at the door, you jump from your spot. “Shit” you mumble around a mouthful of fruit. “That’s Lizzie with Emilia.” You state stumbling from the couch, placing the bowl of fruit on the table, throwing your hair back into some sort of up-do. Simon stands from his spot, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Sit back down, I’ll get it.” He states, turning to go to the door.

“Wait Simon you still got-” you were gonna say hes still got his mask on, it will scare Lizzie and Emilia and confused them both as well. But your words die in your throat as you watch him tug it over his head, stuffing it in his pocket. You didn’t realise until now he must’ve washed the black war paint off when he got up. You watched in stunned silence, the man who never takes the mask off, ever. Has now taken it off, his dark short cut hair on display.

With baited breath you watch as the door opens, Lizzie coming into view with Emilia standing next to her gripping her hand. Lizzie looks up at the taller male with wide eyes, filled with confusion. You’re too shocked to register any words being exchanged between the two, you’re shaken from your trance when Simon turns to face you with a small smile. Jaw covered with a light stubble, dark chocolate eyes, a small scar cuts into his brow, two other scars rest just above his other brow. His nose is sharp, jawline defined. On his left another scars cuts through his top lip going up to the outer edge of his nose. There’s a another scar that paints his skin from the bridge of his nose trailing to the right, ending on his cheek bone below his eyes.

“MAMA!” Emilia screams, snapping you out of the trance properly. You crouched down catching her in your arms, ignoring the fact she just rammed straight into your heavily bruised ribs. “Hey pumpkin! I missed you so much.” Emilia wraps her arms around your neck, legs clinging to your waist like a koala as you stand up. Your arms scooped under her to support her properly as you walk over to stand next to Simon. “Thanks a lot Lizzie. I’ll go get your pay-” Simon stops you from moving towards the kitchen island to get your wallet. “Already paid her.” He states, hand resting on your lower back as you look up at him. Emilia looks between the two of you smiling. Lizzie waves it off and says shes happy to do it again, you bid her goodbye and close the door.

Emilia dragged Simon off to her room while you talked to Lizzie, saying something about wanting to show him her stuffed toys. You thank Lizzie again, showing your appreciation for her looking after your daughter. Once you closed the door, you stroll down the hallway. Hearing the rumbling timbre of Simon’s voice softly echoing around the apartment. You reach Emilia’s room, leaning against the door frame, you bite your tongue to not giggle at the sight in front of you.

There’s stands, Simon Ghost Riley, Clad in black cargo pants and a dark grey shirt. Sitting Criss Cross Apple Sauce on the floor, the pastel pink fluffy rug below him a strong contrast to his clothing. Emilia is rambling on about her stuff toys, pulling each stuffed animal off her bed to show the large man. Simon’s eyes are soft, just the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he nods along to Emilia’s words.

“And this one is Burt! He’s a water dragon! See!” The young girl states, a large smile on her face, cheeks rosy from excitement to showing a new person her toys. “Nice to meet you Burt.” Simon greets the toy, probably the umpteenth one he has greeted in the span of five minutes. “Nice to meet you too Mr. Simon!” Emilia states, hanging her voice to sound like a boyish drawl. You can’t help but chuckle at this, walking into the room when they both look over at you.

“I see your toys like Mr. Simon quite a lot, sweetheart.” You smile, taking a seat on the ground, knees tucked beneath you. Emilia smiles, nodding her head as she grabs another toy, leaving the small blue dragon next to Simon, like the rest of the toys she’s shown him so far. “She’s very confident and friendly for a kid.” Simon quietly states, keeping his voice low to talk to you. You nod and shrug your shoulders, a small smirk on your lips. “Yeah, I guess so. She always has been.”

“Mr. Simon… are you staying the night?” Emilia ask’s suddenly, gripping her favourite stuffed dog, in her hands. Simon looks from the young girl to you, in which you just nod to Emilia. “If your mum says I can.” He states, his tone soft. Emilia’s eyes light up, she jumps towards you, pressing the dog toy into your chest. “Please mama! Please please please! Can he stay!” She asks, more like demands. You laugh lightly, scooping the young girl up in your arms. Cradling her against you, humming in a a question manner. “Hmmm. I don’t see why not. SO yes, he can stay.” You conclude, laughing when Emilia squeals in excitement. “Thank you thank you!” She dashes from her spot in your arms, towards her bedroom door. “I gotta go build a fort for movies! Don’t come over till I’m done!” She states, dashing towards the living room, her bare feet pounding against the hardwood.

“Well… Look’s like you have a fan.” You tease the quiet man, a small smile on your lips as your eyes soften when you see him. His large and scarred hands softly gripping the small dragon toy in his hands. “Seem’s so… Guess I’m going to be spending more time here.” He states, standing as he places the toy back on the bed. You stand next to him, leaning up and leaving a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you…” you softly state, placing a hand on his upper arm before leaving the room when you hear Emilia yell something about needing help.

Simon watches you leave, a hand ghosting over his cheek. His chest tightening with emotion, it feels tight but its almost comforting. He shakes his head as he follows you out, planning to help Emilia with her ‘fort’.

#fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw ghost #cod mw x reader #female reader #afab reader #call of duty fanfic

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theushijimaoverlord · 3 months

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"this whole thing is a mess"

♡ tooru oikawa x reader - 1.3k ♡ warnings - none other than oikawa himself (and some ugly baby shenanigans) ♡ notes - hi! i'm purple and this is my first post, enjoy! (prompt credit from @creativepromptsforwriting)

It was a mess.

A big, tremendous, nearly-unfixable mess.

The day started off normal enough, you in your comfy gray sweat, loose shirt (that may or may not belong to Oikawa), a book you’ve been overdue to read in your hands. As your eyes scanned the pages, your attention was drawn away as you began to the thump thump thump of someone running up the stairs. And unless someone had broken into your house, you already knew who was currently making their way towards your bedroom.

As if on cue, a familiar ruffle of brunette hair came into view as said person came barreling through your door. For an athlete, it always bemuses you how Oikawa always got so winded running up your stairs.

You patiently wait for him to catch his breath. Finally, after he had decided that enough air had entered his lungs, he looked up and if you knew any better from the look in his eyes, you could already tell he was about to tell the most ridiculous thing ever. Because your boyfriend wouldn’t be doing the world justice if he were one for the dramatics.

“You would not believe what I just found out.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, you roll your eyes, close your books and turn your whole body to face him. This was gonna take a while. “Okay I’ll bite. Tell me what you found out.”

If you squint hard enough, you could almost see the joy gleaming in his eye from the fact that he caused you to turn your whole attention to him. But it quickly disappeared as he crossed the room and plopped down face first onto your bed, arms wide, and began whining.

You should convince him to take up theater.

“Come on Tooru, tell me what you came all the way up here for or I’m going back to my book,” Turning his face, Oikawa looked at you and gave his signature pout. If you called him out for it, he would vigilantly deny it.

“Did you remember when you went over to my mom's house a week ago?”

“When we visited for new years? Yeah I remember, remind me later to ask her for her mochi recipe.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you remember when the two of you decided to torture me by looking at my baby photos?” Honestly, he was the one torturing you with the way he was loudly complaining with each flip of the photo album.

If it wasn’t already obvious by the media attention, countless photo-shoot bookings, and (to his dismay) amount of fanfic being written about him, Oikawa Tooru was a very handsome man. Some might even argue (you) that the word pretty comes to mind when talking about the Argentina National Volleyball Team’s setter.

But a little secret that he had and would rather take to the grave is that he was a very, very ugly baby. At least by his standards. You have a running theory that he only thinks that way because Iwaizumi liked to taunt him about it, especially when they were younger.

“Yes Tooru, although I’ve told you pointless times that you were a very normal looking baby, I do recall looking at photos with your mom.” Reaching a hand out from under the warm blanket, you grab his hand that is closest to you and intertwine your fingers. You swear his pout lessens a little before he continued telling you about his current dilemma.

“Well I was scrolling online and you will not believe what I saw” Sitting up without disconnecting your hands, he sits on the bed, brown eyes now directly across from you.

“Well she. Posted. The. Photos.”

A beat of silence passed as he just stared at you, straight faced and serious.

And then you break eye contact by letting out a short laugh, which apparently broke a dam inside you because your free hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to suppress the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Oikawa just continues to stare at you, but now he had a dumbfounded expression on his face, as if he hadn’t just told you the worst possible thing to ever happen to him. Realizing you weren’t gonna stop, Oikawa lets out a long drawn whine, closing the gap in between the two of you and throwing his arms around your body, pressing his face into your neck.

The position caused you to uncover your mouth and now the only sound filling the room was your unfiltered laughs. As much as Oikawa loved listening to the noise, he hugged you tighter hoping you would eventually stop being entertained by his misfortune.

“Why do you hate me, babe. What have I done to deserve this mistreatment?”

As your laughter finally dies down, you reach your arms around and hug him back, rubbing one palm up and down his back as the other hand carded his brown moppy hair through your fingers. Your bedroom was now engulfed by a (rare) moment of peaceful silence as you felt him breathing into your neck.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’d have a knack for always being the most dramatic person in a room” A pause before his response.

“...no” An obvious lie, but you let it slide.

“Alright, what are people saying about your photos though? Can’t be that bad”

Sitting up straight again, his arms were still wrapped around your body so he had to crane his neck to look down at you and you find yourself doing a similar motion to look up at him. If anyone else saw the two of you like this, they might find the positioning comedic.

“It’s terrible. Absolutely horrible. This whole thing is a mess. The entire world is making fun of me as we speak.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and begin searching for his mother’s post which wasn’t hard considering you closely followed her actively due to her weekly recipe post. And just as you presumed, Oikawa’s mom’s most recent post was a picture of some photos from the album the two of you looked at a few days ago.

You could tell they were pictures of Oikawa during his infant years, but only because you were able to see it in person but…. When you closely examined the post, you were astonished that anyone could even tell what the photo was off. Even though mama Oikawa had skills in the kitchen and taking pictures of the foods she makes, the woman wasn’t as skilled when photographing other things.

“Babe, literally no one can tell what this is a picture of. If I didn’t know any better, it just looks like she took a picture of a photograph of a loaf of bread and posted it.” A gasp falls from his lips, causing you to look back up at him.

“Are you saying I look like a loaf of bread? How dare you!” You are practically rendered speechless.

“No! I’m saying that unless people have seen the real thing, there is no way anyone would guess that it’s a photo of you as a baby. And I’m looking at the comment section right now, no one is saying anything about you, most people are asking what it even is.”

“What? I swear people were saying stuff” Snatching your phone, he also begins to scroll before he comes across a comment that read:

that’s the stupidest looking baby I’ve ever seen

Turning the phone to show you, he pointed at the words on the screen, giving you a wide eyed I-told-you-so look.

“See??” Looking at him, you gave Oikawa a blank stare.

“Tooru, Hajime is that one who commented that” Flipping the screen back around, his eyes quickly scan for the person who typed out the atrocious words and staring right back at him is Iwa-chan’s username, and profile pic of the gym he worked at.

“Oh”

Pondering his existence, Oikawa almost misses the snort you let out if it wasn’t for the explosion of laughter you let out.

Again

♡ hello! thank you for finishing my first work, i hope you enjoyed it. i would love any type of constructive criticism, either in regard of my writing, theme, or anything else

♡ i took a lot of my inspiration from @adoringhaikyuu, especially when creating my theme so i wanted to give them credit, and i completely recommend their work so go check them out

♡ thank you (again) and warmest regards, ms. purple

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!!#haiykuu #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fluff #tooru oikawa #haikyuu x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x f!reader #oikawa tooru fluff #ms.purple♡writes

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andreas-river · 6 months

Text

➷ Kinktober 2023

Day XIV: Cock warming || Phillip Graves

Cross-posted on Ao3.

TW: cock warming, mutual orgasm, creampie.

The air in the office was warm, your nostril filled with his favorite cologne as you nuzzled his neck, your arms lazily hugging him—and it wasn't just your arms.

You wanted to wriggle and move so badly—his cock buried deep inside your wet core impaling you perfectly, your walls perfectly conforming to the shape and size of his shaft.

You felt him squeeze the flesh of your hips with another movement you gave him and moaned slightly.

"Be a good girl and stay still," he murmurs into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "Or do you want to be punished?"

With tears swelling in your eyes, you shake your head. "No, I will be a good girl."

He kisses you lightly and goes back to the document on his desk. It was going to be a long day.

You can't help but fall asleep in his lap, only coming to when you feel him stroking your hair, his eyes watching you intensely. Hours have passed since he made you sit on his cock, and when he moved you so that you were completely facing him, you heard a squelching sound and knew exactly what it was.

"Do you want a reward?"

You nod eagerly, but instead he grabs your hips and lifts you up until only the head remains inside before pushing you down with a sharp motion, moaning at the stimulation. He then removes his hands from you, smirking at the mess he has made of you.

"Then show me how you make yourself come, do it on my cock."

You happily oblige and begin to ride his shaft, his grunts pure fuel to your ears. You held yourself on his shoulder, your legs shaking from the effort of jumping up and down on him, and his fingers touching your clit brought you to a shattering orgasm, yet you couldn't stop—the feeling of his hard cock too addictive to even think about, finally feeling his hot cum painting your insides, both breathing heavily—yet he loved every moment of admiring your beautiful body on top of his, kissing you and praising you for being such a good girl.

#phillip graver x fem reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #cod phillip graves #phillip graves smut #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw #cod graves #graves x reader

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candywife333 · 1 month

Note

Hey can u write a Professor Jimin fvcking slutty student(like with some degrading and blackmailing shit), Jimin blackmails oc with her naked videos which he secrectly filmed?

PART 1

Don't Test Me

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took a while to get to it. Will be posting daily from now on. Finished all my major exams and am ready to write limitlessly now. As usual , not proofread.

chubby insecure student y/n x Professor Jimin (nasty yandere-ish).

WILL HAVE ONE MORE PART (SMUT)

Triggers: eventual smut, dubcon, blackmail

"Y/N, stay back. I have a few things I need to discuss with you".

I stood there shell-shocked. Had no idea why Prof. Jimin would want to talk to me. I did my work silently, maintained a consistent B+ in his class, and made sure I never caused any disruption. He had a fan club filled with some of my most beautiful classmates that fawned all over him at any given time of the day. So what would he possibly need from me?

Most people in school acted as though I were invisible. And as much as others may hate it, I loved being a loner. I didn't want to be noticed. Didn't want to take up space. My life's goal is to be forgotten. Probably had to do with the fact that whenever I was noticed, it was never a pleasant experience.

I turned back to face Professor Jimin. He had a quizzical arch to his brow, almost in a questioning manner, as thought to ask why I kept so much space between me and him. If I didn't know any better, I would say that his plump lips were lifted up in a slight smirk, defiantly arrogant. Black eyes glinted back at me with an unrecognizable solemnity. Sent shivers down my back , an emotion akin to fear. He had never come off this scary before. Prof. Jimin was usually stern within good reason, but never this outright intimidating.

As though he knew something I didn't. He grumbled in a rather sharp tone of voice, "Close the door behind you Y/N. This is to be a private conversation. And come closer to my desk so I can talk to you without literally having to shout at you".

I gingerly closed the door behind me and walked over to his desk, dreading how up close I would have to be to face him. I hated invading people's personal space and I felt the same about other's encroaching on mine. Made me dicy and uncomfortable. Yet, I had no choice. I reluctantly sat in the chair right in front of his desk while he occupied the chair on the other side.

How did he even know my name? I never answered in class and was mostly just silent. The TAs usually graded all papers and assignments. He wouldn't know me, unless he made it a point to know me. This made me even more queasy. Sweat lined my forehead, droplets slowly sliding down the nape of my neck.

His face relaxed into a grin, white teeth encased by soft fluffy pink lips. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, he calmly implored, "Are you feeling alright Y/N? You seem a little nervous". I shook my head side to side rapidly as though I were a mute, gulping down my trepidation. "Nothing at all Professor Jimin, just a little stressed out with the work load in other classes", I managed to whisper out in a rush.

He laughed, his entire body shaking with laughter, tears dripping down his angelic face. Wasn't this a bit excessive reaction to what I had just said? Was he mocking what I had expressed?

The atmosphere strangely enough took on a sinister air. His black bottomless eyes, empty of all humor stilled on me. He grabbed my hand in his, a rather sudden motion, making me freeze in confusion. As he traced the lines of my hand, he hissed, "Of course you would be the only student worried about assignments, when you have grave issues of much more dire proportions to contend with Y/N".

I withdrew my hand from his warmth in bewilderment, muffling out , "I don't think I-I quite understand Professor. Have I done something wrong in class? Do I need to be punished for some mistake I made"?

My brain mindlessly droned on in a convoluted mess, calculating what I could've possibly done wrong in his class. Before I could even process it, Prof. Jimin was on the side of his table, leaning down towards my face. I flinched at his proximity. But he didn't let me get much further away.

He grabbed the nape of my neck as his breath ghosted across my lips. "Since we are in math class Y/N, what do you think about this angle"? My eyes focused on the phone screen placed in front of me. It showed a girl, chubby flesh overflowing , steam rising up all around her, completely naked bathing. As I looked closer, fear clouded my mind. Terror gripping my bones. That was me in the video.

My flushed skin, all red and blotchy from the steaming water of the shower was shown in perfect clarity. The only thing that couldn't be viewed in this video was my face, obscured by the steam. All my other body parts--droopy breasts , jiggly arms, bushy p**sy-- were visible on screen. The video was in perfect line with my frame, as though a voyeur were looking in through a keyhole, holding a camera.

My face whipped to view Professor Jimin's face. I was disgusted. Did he do this? No boy in this school would ever bother to do this. I was not attractive. Me and pretty didn't even run in the same circles. Heck she wasn't even a distant relative of mine. Why would anybody bother to take a nude video of the university's chronic loner?

Professor Jimin looked unfazed as he coolly calmly stated, no quiver in his voice, "Do you want this leaked to the university admin"? I felt like I was dying internally, squeaking out in a watery warble, tears streaming down my face in torrents, "No Sir. I-I don't. Please I beg you to get rid of this. I don't know who could have p-p-p-ossibly have done this".

I stammered out in a panic, getting on my knees on the floor below, holding his legs with both hands, begging him,"I am not even pretty. I don't have a clue who would take videos of me like this. I would never send anyone anything like this. P-please help me professor".

I looked up at Professor Jimin, expecting the cold expression he had on through this entire interaction. But what I saw in his face didn't make any sense. He seemed indignant. In fact enraged. I don't think I ever see him like this even in class. He grabbed me in an abrupt motion, with a strength I didn't think he had in him for how lithe he looks to be.

He pushed me against the wooden table, bellowing in my face, "Who told you that you weren't pretty"?

He held my wrists in his hands, restraining me in such a manner that I could not move them. I scoffed as tears stained my face, " Professor, who would even care to see me naked? This must be some horrible prank. It looks like a video of me taking a shower in the university gym after dance practice. But honestly, I don't get why it was even taken. You can see how unappealing my body looks".

I continued to sniffle in silence, till I was yanked back by the back of my hair. My eyes met his head on as he proclaimed rather bluntly, "I would. I would care to see you naked. In fact, I called you to my room to tell you that I took the video. And if you ever want it deleted, never to be seen by any other person's eyes other than mine, you must do as I say".

I crumpled in resignation, back slouching , defeated. Why would he even do this? I never did anything to him to warrant this type of blackmail. But I met his gaze that glimmered with something warm. I couldn't name it yet. I felt his left arm curl around my waist, pressing me closer to him, my clothed clit pressed against the front of his trousers as I set on the desk. I croaked out blankly, " What do I need to do Professor. What should I do to get rid of this video? I don't understand why you took it in the first place. But what can I do to never have those shown to anyone else"?

A victorious smirk filtered onto his otherwise angelic face as his finger rubbed against my clothed clit , an unyielding metal ring prodding against my hardened bud. I tried not to moan as he whispered into my ear, "All you have to do is be mine. Let me have my way with you forever. That is all".

#bts x plus size reader #bts x reader #chubby reader #jimin x reader #plus size reader x jimin #chubby reader x jimin #blackmail #yandere jimiin #yandere jimin x chubby reader #bts #bts smut #jimin smut #bts x chubby reader #smut #y/n x jimin #y/n x bts

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katz-chow · 6 months

Note

This is so Phillip Graves coded....thoughts? Also love your work♡^^

bang bang

a/n: STOP NO I LOVE THIS SONG. you're so right babyboo this is so graves coded. how much of life passed by him because of how much time he dedicated to his work. let me show you. angst, good ending, gn! reader, not how i normally write graves, him being an ass, slight suicidal themes, one religious bit, ignoring mw3

Phillip hadn't meant to leave you all alone all those years ago. Memories of weeping willows and tall grass in the scorching summer heat before school started to flood his mind as he drove through sun-bleached roads in the Hill Country. He was finally going home, back to the place where he could finally retire. Sure, he hasn't been back here in 5 years, but he was working and doing important missions within the military, you knew that.

He made sure you knew that when he left for the cold plains of Colorado to start up the Shadow Company. "It's dangerous work, Sweetheart." He said as he held your hand close to his chest. You were crying, begging to come with him, the shiny new ring on her your finger gleamed in the airport lighting.

"No. it's too dangerous, I don't want them coming after you..." He said when you called him a few weeks later after he informed you that he was going overseas. Again, you begged to be able to call him, to have any grasp of him and who he belonged to. And again, he denied it.

You suggested letters on a call a few months later, after he had gotten back from that first mission. He seemed more on edge, hardened...not your Phillip. He cursed and groaned, "When will you understand how dangerous everything is?! Use your brain and think will you? If I send back letters, they'll know where to find you. If you send back letters, they'll know where to find me. Hell, they can probably trace this call right back to you at this very moment and I can't do shit about that!"

You ended the call, frustrated tears rolling down your cheeks. You threw the sheets off of you and screamed into the pillows. You missed him and, of course, he just wanted you to be safe.

Soon, his signal got weaker and weaker. Letters were out of the option except for a rare one-pager or a post card sent from him. Mexico...seemed like a nice place to be, while you're stuck here in Texas, without your husband.

One month turned into two, and then 4 years, and then...he was dead. One of his old military buddies showed up to your door along with a shadow you've never seen before, a flag in hand.

You didn't cry during the funeral, there was no body. You didn't cry when you were handed the flag. You didn't cry on the drive home. You didn't cry until the sun went down and the normally empty house seemed colder, the last smoldering coal cooling down. That was when you couldn't take it anymore. Your knees sank down and hit the hardwood in your living room, framed pictures of the two of you hiking in California glimmered with the faint kitchen light that seemed so, so far away.

You felt the surge of guilt roll over you he was right, he was only keeping you safe from the mess of the world while you got to stay at home. But instead of admiring him and his care, you screamed and cursed and kicked and...cried. You cried out to him and he had no choice but to swallow the stinging in his chest whenever you asked when he was coming home. You couldn't see it at the time. Funny how these things work, it takes death to make you see it.

“If God teaches in this way, by weakening you into a vulnerable thing in order to beg for mercy, he is not a kind god. If this is the case, kill me too. If it’s cowardly than I accept being a coward, if it means I can be with him again.”

His death wrecks you. You don’t come out of the house anymore, not even to get groceries. You order things at your doorstep. You only open the door for people to send their condolences, but never allow them to go in nor do you want to go out. The house is no longer pristine and ready for him to come home at any minute anymore, because you know he won’t.

So imagine the sound of an engine cutting off in front of your house. Then the sound of a large car door closing. And then the keys turning the lock open. You don’t move from your nest of a bed, you figure you had forgotten to eat and the hallucinations are coming in. So you stare at the window blinds, bright sun outside causing a slight glow in your bedroom. You sigh. A lovely day gone to waste again, shame…

“Honey? I know you’re here, your car’s parked out…” His voice chirps as you hear heavy footsteps make its way around the small house. Then the sound of the door opening, your back facing it. You keep your eyes ahead, preparing for the part where everything fades to black and you fall asleep. You start to see the familiar figure in your peripheral and then his face knelt down to meet yours on the bed. You look at him, tiredly and sadden, dismissing the vision as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Baby…” His knuckles brush against your cheekbones and your eyes dart open and wide, looking up at him.

“Phillip…?”

His hand caress your face as yours reach out to him, fingers pinching and pulling at his face. He smiled softly. “It’s just me, again…Hi..”

Tears formed in your eyes as you sat up in bed, scrambling into his arms as you both sit on the floor. You screamed and sobbed and hit him as he held you close. “I thought you were fucking dead for almost a year, a whole fucking year, you asshole!”

Phillip didn’t seem fazed with your words nor your fists weakly hitting his back as you buried your face into him. “I know I’m sorry…I’m here now. I’m real, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Your Phillip was home, safe and in your arms. He knew you would react in some way, but somehow he didn’t know it equate to you physically hitting him. He held you as tight in his arms as you would let him as you cried and screamed.

You succeeded in pulling away from him, tears turning into sniffles and a furrowed brown.

"I miss you."

A harsh pain whipped onto the side of his face, hard enough to pull his gaze from you to the bookshelf in the back against the wall.

"Don't do that again." You stared at him, tears silently rolling down your flushed cheeks as sniffled, lip quivering.

"I'll be here."

#katzwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #fanfic #phillip graves x gn!reader #phillip graves hc #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #cod graves #graves x reader #philip graves x reader #philip reader #phillip graves cod

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sugarcoated-lame · 1 year

Text

Joy Ride

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Synopsis: When your boyfriend, Rhett, picks you up from a night out, you decide to show him how much you appreciate him on the way home.

or I just have a lot of thots about giving Rhett road head and this was the result pls enjoy (:

Word Count: ~1.7K.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI! Mentions of alcohol and drinking, smut, oral (m receiving), distracted driving?, Let me know if there’s any I’ve missed!

A/N: This is my first time posting any writing so please be kind! I’d love to hear any feedback, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated! Thank you so much for reading, I hope it’s not shit! <3 Also, I just wanna say a massive thank you to my beloved @sebsxphia for being an absolute angel and reading this through for me and encouraging me to post it, you're the best seb and I love you so much!!! <3

It was nearing 2am when the ringing of Rhett’s phone pulled him out of the dozy state he’d fallen into watching a movie on the couch.

Seeing your contact photo, his sweet, shy girl in his favorite sundress and wearing his cowboy hat, had brought a tired smile to Rhett’s face.

He’d been waiting on your call. When you’d told him earlier that day that your girlfriends had invited you for a night out at a bar, Rhett was quick to offer to be your ride home.

“Oh no, Rhett, you don’t have to. I can just get an Uber home.” You’d tried to decline, not wanting to put him out, but he’d insisted. Told you to let loose and have fun catching up with your friends.

He’s more than happy to be picking you up in the middle of the night if it means he knows you’ll be getting home safe after your night of drinking. Even happier for the opportunity to just spend some time with his girl.

After only a few months of dating, Rhett’s pretty sure he’d do anything for you.

It’s now about 20 minutes since you’d called and asked him to come get you, since quickly shrugging on his jacket and hat and heading out the door, that Rhett’s parking his truck just down the road from the bar.

When you see your boyfriend walk in through the bar doors, in your drunken state, you’re up and running.

“RHETT!” Practically squealing out his name, you make a beeline towards him. Jumping into his arms, yours clumsily wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. You’re giggling and planting a big kiss on his lips as Rhett’s large hands come to cup the backs of your thighs to support you.

All the while, your friends watch on, laughing and cooing at the cuteness of the two of you. They loved seeing one of Wabang’s toughest, stoic cowboys go all soft for you, and only you.

After Rhett returns your kiss, you’re swiping the cowboy hat off his head and placing it atop your own with a grin and a glint in your glazed-over eyes.

Rhett gently places you back on the ground, chuckling at the state of you—a giggling mess, his hands on your waist to steady you.

He leans down to your height, gruff voice in your ear asking, “You ready to go, Sweetheart?”

The gravely nature of his deep voice leaves your head spinning, legs a little shakier than they already are due to the alcohol. He made your head spin more than any drink could.

It’s only after Rhett ensures that your friends have a safe way home that the two of you bid them goodnight, Rhett draping his jacket over your shoulders and leading you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back.

On the walk back to his truck, Rhett relishes in the way you’re all over him. He loves seeing you like this— your usual, slightly more reserved demeanor gone along with your inhibitions. He knows you’re probably going to go all shy on him when he lovingly teases you about it in the morning.

It’s something he’s only been witness to maybe a handful of times in the months of dating you and he finds it endearing.

The way you cling to his side, leaning up to place soft kisses to the skin of his neck, entangling your fingers with the ones of his hand that’s resting around your waist. Still giggling and whispering in his ear about how pretty you think he is.

“...so beautiful, Rhett. The prettiest cowboy, baby.”

It’s moments like these; alone on an empty street in the middle of the night, just the two of you, that Rhett doesn’t feel the need to be bashful about the blush that he knows is currently coloring his cheeks due to such affection.

After helping you into the truck and buckling you in, Rhett walks around to the driver’s side. Letting out a low chuckle as he watches you through the windows. You’re removing his cowboy hat from your head and tossing it into the backseat.

Rhett drives with a warm hand on your thigh, gently soothing it along your skin as he asks you how your night was. You grab ahold of Rhett’s hand, telling him all about the events of the evening and how fun it was to catch up with your friends.

The feel of his large, calloused palm is a sharp contrast in your smaller, softer one. You’re playing with the fingers that had been tracing along your thigh, before bringing it up to your lips to place a soft kiss to his knuckles.

In your still-slightly tipsy state, you’re thanking him for coming to get you. Telling him how much you appreciate him, how much you love him, and Rhett swears he feels his heart double in size.

The two of you had only recently made that declaration, and he still wasn’t used to how much he loved hearing you say it.

Pressing another delicate kiss to Rhett’s hand, you release it in favor of reaching over to run your hand over his lap. Cupping him through his Wranglers, your lip quirks as his hips jolt in surprise, involuntarily bucking toward your touch.

You scoot a little closer to him on the bench seat of his truck, hands working their way up to his belt buckle.

“What are you doing, Bunny?” A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as you begin to unbuckle it.

“I really appreciate you baby. Just wanna show you how much.” You implore with a voice full of need, hungrily eyeing the bulge in his jeans as you work to free his already-hardening cock.

“Honey, you don’t have to-” Rhett begins to speak, but is cut off by the hitching of his breath when your hand begins to stroke him.

Leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, you feel him twitch in your hand as he nearly swerves his truck onto the wrong side of the street. Luckily, there’s really nobody on the road at this late hour.

You lick at the beads of precum that dribble from his slit, still stroking his shaft as you take him into your mouth. Humming softly at the familiar taste of him, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure down Rhett’s spine.

He’s driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other in your hair as you eagerly suck his cock. Your warm, wet mouth taking in more of his length while your hand continues to work at the base, stroking whatever you can’t fit. He tries not to buck his hips up too much, not wanting to cause you any discomfort.

“Easy Bunny, easy.” He groans out as you take him down your throat, nearly losing his mind when he feels you gag around him. Swallowing and trying to relax your throat as you hold him there.

The feeling of the tip of your nose pressing against the curls at Rhett’s pelvis as you swallow his entire length has the both of you moaning. His aloud and yours muffled against him, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.

It’s taking Rhett everything in him to keep his focus on the road while you release him with an audible ‘pop’. A string of saliva still connecting the head of his cock and your plush lips, your hand wraps around his shaft as you give yourself a moment to breathe.

You’re placing little kitten licks to his tip while you stroke him once more, kissing your way down his length and back up again. Laving your tongue along the prominent vein that spans the underside of his cock before you take him back into your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you pick up the pace.

It’s when he’s stopped at a red light that Rhett looks down at you, wondering what the fuck he did to deserve you.

Your pretty lips wrapped around him, staring back up at him with those wide, innocent doe eyes. Mascara tears trailing down your cheeks, your fingernails digging into his denim-clad thigh.

“Fucking hell, Bunny!” With a particularly harsh suck, Rhett reaches his high with a grunt. Eyes rolling back in his head as he sends hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

You keep him in your mouth, continuing to suck him gently. Prolonging his high until he’s well and truly spent. You moan at the heady taste of him, his grip in your hair tightening, cock twitching on your tongue from the overstimulation.

When you’re certain you’ve swallowed down every last drop of cum Rhett had to offer, you release him with one final kiss to his tip, making his entire body jolt with sensitivity. His grasp on your hair going slack as you carefully tuck him back into his pants.

It’s a good thing there are no cars on the road behind you because Rhett’s frozen for a good few minutes. Eyes glazed over much like yours when he picked you up from the bar, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how long he’s sat there in such a state before you’re softly calling his name, leaning over to place a kiss to his flushed cheek.

Before you’re whispering, “Baby, the light is green...” and falling back into your seat in a fit of giggles as he fails to come back down to earth.

When Rhett’s breathing finally returns to normal, he’s grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you into a feverish kiss.

It’s hungry and full of need, Rhett groaning as he tastes himself on your tongue. Pulling quiet little whines from your throat as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth.

When Rhett pulls back, his eyes are wild. Pupils blown, barely a hint of that beautiful, crystalline blue you’ve come to love is visible.

He starts up the car again, and this time it’s you that’s left breathless. Left in a daze as he practically growls out, accent as strong as you’ve ever heard it,

“Gotta get you home so I can return the favor. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, bunny.”

...

Thank you for reading! xx

(Credit to @h0neyfire for the Rhett photos for the header (: )

Tagging a couple people I think might enjoy this <;3 @angelic-dreams13 @rhettabbotts <3

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la-bruja · 10 months

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Fanfiction Reccomendations

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hi im a little insane and i read way too many fics 💖

here are some fics I've enjoyed this week! so far it's mostly batman, danny phantom, and crossovers between those two! haha I need some variety I swear.

everything under the read more because I have fifteen (15) listed! <3 okay thanks for checking out my recs!!

(if the formatting is a little ugly, it's because i did this on the app on my phone <3)

(tumblr (app) is a peice of shit and deleted some of the fics i had on here. aaaaaaaaa) (i will try again next week)

»»———-DPxDC-———-««

Wait, I'm a What? by @atiyasnake

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 31k+ Words. Last Updated June. 5k+ Kudos. Misunderstandings. Ghost King Danny. Accidental Crime Lord Danny. Cryptid Danny. Sentient Gotham.

He kept taking the cash from the assholes (and damn there were a lot of assholes near where he lived) messing with the residents who lived in the area. He kept accepting their offers of food. So because of this new routine that kept him able to afford to rent out his shitty (and possibly illegal) apartment and the hunger pangs sufficiently satisfied, rumors grew.

Like and Survive - Phantom’s Guide to Young Hero Survival by @robinasnyder

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 73k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Youtuber Danny. Ghost King Danny. Adult Danny. Good Parent Clark Kent. Therapist Jasmine Fenton.

Phantom is considered an old timer who deals with a small city and nowhere else. When he begins uploading videos with advice for young heroes, he hopes a few new heroes might avoid some of the pain he went through. He's shocked at just how popular his advice suddenly becomes.

Bus To Nowhere by @precarious-hermit

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 98k+ Words. Last Updated July. 20k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

After being on the run from his parents and the government for a couple of months, moving from town to town, Danny ends up in Gotham City and decides to risk staying in Batman's territory. He'd take the wrath of Batman over live vivisection via beloved parents or being studied and torn apart by the government. Besides, he's not a meta. Being dead is a medical condition.

The Firstborn Son by @faeriekit

Complete. Two-Shot. 7.5k Words. 1k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. The Infinite Realms. Dimension Travel. Accidental Child Acquisition. Child Endangerment. Mind Control. Horror.

Danny Phantom, a somewhat established ruler of the Ghost Zone, has unwittingly acquired a baby.

And. Well. He can't exactly keep it in Pariah's Keep. He's no parent, not to mention the huge problem of how the air and sky destabilize human cellular structure. There has to be a way to prove that the man is safer than the home the baby comes from.

...But the man has his own ward.

Hm. Danny can exploit this. What's an assessment without a little test?

Amity In The Ghost Zone by @ghostboybrainrot

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 7k+ Words. Last Updated March. 1k+ Kudos. Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

The city doesn't return on its own after Pariah Dark is defeated. Without knowing how to get the whole city back to the living world, Danny tries to evacuate the residents but most Amity Parkers don't really want to leave. Some people do, but many decide to stay. After all, Amity Park is their home, and the idea of having to start over somewhere new isn't very appealing. So the town, for the most part, continues on like normal.

Holding Me Now In Hand by @disillusioneddanny

Completed. Multi-Chaptered. 67k+ Words. 4k+ Kudos. Death Defying. Dick/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Teacher Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Miscommunication. Identity Reveal.

After Tim Drake tells his family about his new insane chemistry teacher, Dick Grayson decides to do some investigation himself.

What he wasn't expecting was to instantly fall in love with the chaotic science teacher.

Our Empty Graves by @nabtime

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 63k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Graphic Depictions of Violence. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Slowburn. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Hazmat AU. Mute Danny. Hurt/Comfort.

They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. Rival gangs say he's vicious, that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

death echoes by @redskyeatnight

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 38k+ Words. Last Updated June. 9k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Ghost King Danny. BAMF Danny. Creepy Danny.

Cold air on the back of his neck. Skeletal fingertips skittering up his spine, barely there and yet pressing so hard they would surely leave indents. A sound like an iceberg cracking apart echoing in his ears and through his head, pain following in its wake.

His throat went cold, his tongue suddenly numb.

And for a second - just a second - he smelled nothing but the stench of death.

"Oh My God, I'm Becoming My Father." by @fanfiction-artist-prototype

Incomplete. Three-Shot. 22k+ Words. Last Updated June. 1k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Misunderstandings. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. Blood and Injury. Accidental Child Acquisition. Implied/Reference Underage Prostitution. Protective Jason Todd.

Dani needs money, there's only so long her human body can last without food, and she lost the credit card Sam gave her when she crash-landed in Gotham city bay. So, she decides she's going to go the one guy she knows exists in Gotham that will help a kid down on their luck no questions asked - Red Hood.

Last time she'd seen Danny, he'd told her that there were rumours the Red Hood was undead, so he was the safest option for a halfa like her.

Hatred At First Sight by Sagoberattare

based on a tumblr post

Complete. One-Shot. 1k Words. 4k+ Kudos. SoulHate AU. Danny Phantom is a Little Shit.

Until the Joker looked at the skrunky kid in a ratty hoodie that looked like he could be a Wayne adoptee. And they both froze for a good minute.

And like some kind of demented switch got flipped the kid snarled and (still with his hands tied behind his back mind you) launched himself at the Joker.

Back to the World, In the End by @akela-nakamura

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 9k+ Words. Last Updated June. 800 Kudos. Halfa Jason Todd. Heavy Angst. Supernatural illnesses. Jason Todd is Not Okay. Eventual Comfort.

Jason's been sick for weeks and nothing he does seems to help. He's not ready for his confrontation with the Bat. He's not ready for his plans to fall apart when they've barely begun.

But his illness isn't stopping. One warm Gotham night, he hits a metaphorical wall.

Nightwing finds Red Hood on a rooftop. It's been a long night, but it might be looking up. After all, finally capturing the Red Hood will make Gotham that much safer.

Inquisitive by @oliveofvanders

Completed. One-Shot. 1k+ Words. 2k+ Kudos. Journalist Danny. Danny is a Little Shit. Damien Wayne Loves Animals. Crack Treated Seriously.

Damian has a very specific way of dealing with reporters – show them the animals, that usually scares them off.

Danny, however, has seen weirder shit in his lifetime.

Like Betta Fish Do by @clockwayswrites

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 48k+ Words. Last Updated July. Updates Bi-Weekly. 7k+ Kudos. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Halfa Jason. Canon-Typical Violence. Jason Todd Needs a Hug. Danny Fenton Needs a Hug. Lazarus Side Effects. Identity Reveal.

Danny had ended up trespassing in Jason's haunt. He didn't mean to. Total accident, he swears. (He blames Johnny.) So he bought the other halfa a basket of bathbombs and chocolate as a 'sorry, please don't disembowel me' gift. It was the proper thing to do, alright?

Everything was going to be just fine.

Then things got a little out of hand.

»»———-Batman-———-««

Send To All by @cairoscene

Completed. One-Shot. 3k Words. 5k+ Kudos. Emails. Epistolary. Poison Ivy Adjacent.

I, _____________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

»»———-Danny Phantom-———-««

and they were roommates by @captainbrookeworm

Completed. One-Shot. 9k+ Words. 400 Kudos. ChatFic. Humor. Memes. Crack. Crack Treated Seriously. Post-Canon. Identity Reveal.

Mr. Lancer’s English Class Group Chat

Wes Weston: FINALLY

Wes Weston: INDISPUTABLE PROOF

Tucker Foley: For the last time the moon landing was NOT faked!!!!

》。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。。° 。。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。。°《

#batman #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #batman fic #danny phantom fic #fic recs #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fic #dc x dp fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #thinking thoughts #i don't know what im doing

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ellivenollivander · 9 months

Note

So, your healer!sebastian post really got me thinking. If you want to, would you maybe write something about seb as a healer working somewhere, he had lost touch with MC, but she comes in gravely injured one day. He saves her and they reconnect?

@skittish1807 Thank you for your patience, I know it has been way too long since you requested this. I love you and your endless patience, pal. Special shoutout to cold brew, sweet tea and ambient world on youtube for helping me finally finish this fic. Rating: 18+ (Mildly NSFW for insinuations) TW: Blood, Injury, Death Mention. Word Count: 8,635 (I know, i'm sorry.) A/N: This is my first Sebastian Fic, please be kind lol

Reconciliation

Sebastian didn’t know exactly how things ended up the way that they did with MC, he just knows that sometimes in the quiet moments of his now hectic life, when he’s left alone with his thoughts, she creeps in from the recesses of his mind.

He can hear her voice when he’s working in the Alchemy room at St. Mungos, criticizing the technique he uses to prepare his ingredients. The hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he stands alone in the dark room, dropping his sliced dittany into the bubbling cauldron. Wouldn’t you prefer chopped? It brews so much more quickly.

When he’s blowing off steam in the cellar of his home, taking out his anger of losing a patient on the training dummy he paid off an Auror for. He can feel her fingers wrapping around his wrist, adjusting his aim or her hand on his hip, correcting his stance.

The soft morning light brings him the smell of her shampoo, from the nights she’d slept in his bed. After long, late nights of studying and searching for anything, tucked behind his closed bed curtains. She’d claim the walk back to her dorm was much too far and crawl between the covers, enveloping him with the scent of her. He would wake up and she would be gone, but the smell of her shampoo would reside on his pillow, proof of her presence.

None of these soft memories made him feel like he did now, lying on a cot in the room designated for Healers to catch up on their sleep during their long shifts at St. Mungos. Sebastian rarely slept, but he tried. He had found an old daily prophet, shoved beneath the pillow, undoubtedly left by one of his fellow healers and decided to try and bore himself to sleep with whatever mess the Wizarding World had found themselves in today.

He found the classifieds, black ink advertising Cruppies - Free to a good home! and Stay Warm with BOGO Self Warming Scarves and Gloves at Twilfitt and Tattings!, as his eyes moved from advertisements to job listings. The memory of how he and MC had spent many of their meal times at Hogwarts hunched over the same paper, talking animatedly about what they could possibly do with their lives after graduation, made his heart constrict.

If he lets himself think about it, her, too much he finds himself spiraling. Desperate to find her, desperate to make things right. Despite being an orphan, and no longer having any family to speak of, he thinks the pain of losing the girl he was in love with for three years of his life might hurt worse.

The knowledge that she was alive and well, and just not here with him, a fate worse than death.

There was nothing he could do about his parents or Anne or even Solomon, they were gone. Never to return. Sebastian wonders if the pain hurts worse, because it was exacerbated by hope that they could be together again. That she’d come back to him.

Which is why he pitches the newspaper against the wall opposite, before punching the tattered pillow he’s shoving his face into, silently pleading for sleep to take him. His attempts only last about ten minutes, before the loudspeaker above the door alerts him to an incoming patient, being transported to the Potions and Poisoning ward.

He heaves himself from the bed with a groan, stretching out his tired limbs and makes his way to the third floor, taking the stairs two at a time. He pauses for just a moment, when he arrives at the patient's room. His eyes watching the brass plaque alongside the door frame materializing with his name, a sentimental pride filling him at the sight.

Healer in Charge: Sebastian Sallow

It had been five years since he’d graduated from Hogwarts, three since he completed the Healer training program. His career choice had been heavily influenced by the desire to feel like he was doing some good in the world, healing instead of hurting. The hefty knowledge he already possessed in his fruitless search for a cure for his ailing sister had just been a benefit, aiding him along in the program, impressing his instructors.

He didn’t pause long enough to think about how it had been five years since he had seen her.

Sebastian pushes open the door, the clipboard instantly pulling itself from the wall and into his hands, greeting his patient with a small smile, his eyes on the clipboard.

“Hello, I’m Healer Sallow, I’ll be getting you sorted out today. What seems to be the problem?”

He studies the intake form quickly as he speaks.

Casper Doolan. Age 9. Potions Accident.

Sebastian’s demeanor shifts slightly when he sees the age of the boy and he relaxes his shoulders, plasters on a smile as he finally takes a look at the patient; A freckled blonde boy, who seemed to be sprouting leaves across his body, sat cross legged on the bed looking as though he had not a care in the world. His parents standing behind him, looking much more distraught, and a teen girl red faced and teary eyed.

Sebastian lets his hand drop the clipboard, which slots itself right back into place on the wall, and he steps closer to the family.

“Hey pal, Casper right? I’m Sebastian. I’m going to get you all fixed up. Alright? Mind if I take a closer look?”

When the boy shrugs his shoulders, he gently lifts the boy's chin to get a better look at the foliage protruding from his face, keeping a small smile on his face. “Mind telling me what happened?” He directs the question to the adults standing above him, as he’s leant down examining Casper.

The clipboard comes back from the wall, levitating in the air and the quill begins recording the words of the Doolans’ recollection of the events of the day. Their daughter had been practicing her potion brewing when Casper had been overcome with curiosity, and had taken a swig from her concoction. An hour later they had been sitting in the St. Mungo’s waiting area when no antidote or healing charm rectified the effects.

Sebastian let out a puff of air, nodding along to the story.

“Can’t say it’s the first time, and I know it will not be the last. Are you in any pain, Casper? Does it hurt? Be honest, no being brave. It’s important that I know.”

Little Casper shakes his head, relaying that it just feels funny. Sebastian gives him another wide grin, before turning towards the older sister.

“Can I ask what you were trying to brew?”

She tenses under Sebastian’s gaze, and he realizes he sounds a bit more accusatory then he had meant too and he clears his throat, holding his hands up. “I just need to know to help your brother… I’m not upset. This really does happen all of the time. Our little patients are notorious potion drinkers.” He smiles back down at Casper who blushes a bit at the comment. “He’s going to be just fine.”

She relaxes, her blush unfading.

“I…uh, I was working on a fertilizer… for herbology, it’s my worst subject in school… It was never meant to be drunk.” She shoots her own accusatory glare in her little brother's direction, and Sebastian has to bite back a laugh.

“Did you follow a recipe or were you just experimenting?”

The quill was poised to take down the information beside his head, his mind already moving in a million different directions on how to move forward with Casper’s treatment based on the information he was being given.

“O-of course I followed a recipe. It was the standard recipe for dragon dung fertilizer…”

At the words dragon dung, Casper’s face blanched at the realization of what he had consumed. He whipped around to face his sister, cheeks red with fury, the leaves in his skin shaking violently. Before he could start screaming at his sister, Sebastian spoke calmly, questioning if she had substituted any ingredients from the standard recipe. The scratch of the quill near his ear, oddly calming.

“No, I stayed true to the recipe but I hadn't added the mandrake yet, it was still stewing when pea brain here decided to take a swig.”

The quill continued recording and Sebastian nodded along appropriately, unable to keep back the playful grin at the name calling between siblings, his heart twinging in grief for just a moment.

“Good news is I think he’ll be just fine. Just have to allow the brew to run its course, I’d say. Let it pass through his system. Could give him a tonic to help it along but since he’s not experiencing any discomfort and he seems to be in good spirits, I’d hardly say that’s necessary.”

At the cheery diagnosis, the tension in the room seemed to immediately dissipate and the Doolan patriarch smacked Casper upside the head. As if he had been lying in wait to be told his son was indeed not dying, before he chastised him.

Sebastian bid the family goodbye, with a comment on lessons learned and to please come back if Caspers condition seemed to worsen in any way. Though before he left, he shook Casper’s hand like a man and slipped a candy into his palm. Before taking his leave with a small playful wink in the boy's direction.

The remaining hours of his shift included a disgruntled Auror who had been stuck feeling the effects of a tickling charm for a week, an elderly woman who had mistaken a Jarvey for a stray cat in her garden and suffered a particularly nasty attack and finally, another Hogwarts student who had botched a polyjuice potion and had found himself stuck between looking like himself and his next door neighbor.

Sebastian finally stood outside of St. Mungos in the summer rain, exhausted and desperate for a drink. He made his way to Undercroft, in hopes of finding some pretty little witch to help him forget the one everything in his life reminded him of.

If only for a night.

~*~

He had, and she did.

Though the only evidence of her presence in his home was the tiny bit of parchment she left on the pillow beside his head.

The pub had been lively, as usual. A popular spot for the younger wizarding demographic. Those that were out of school but not quite ready to hang up their hats and reminisce on their youth.

Sebastian had slid into his stool at the end of the bar, tucked into the corner. A whiskey sliding into his hand before he could even greet the barkeep, his best friend.

Ominis had purchased the building and opened his pub shortly after graduation, with the money left to him from his Aunt Noctua. He had been the sole heir to her estate, something he had only discovered on his seventeenth birthday in their seventh year. A ministry official knocking on the boys’ door in Feldcroft, bearing keys and paperwork.

He and Sebastian had spent an entire night drinking and laughing on the floor of the empty building, brainstorming names until they finally decided on Undercroft. An ode to their schooldays, to their little shelter in the storm of their youth. Hoping the name would inspire Ominis’ pub to be a similar sort of sanctuary for others. A place to unwind, to celebrate, to come together.

The Undercroft at Hogwarts had, of course, been where Ominis and Sebastian had spent a similar night of bonding. When Ominis had found him, crying in a corner, clutching Solomon’s last will and testament.

It had been the catalyst to the mending of their once thought ruined friendship. The guilt had overcome Sebastian, at the realization that Solomon had planned on giving him everything upon his death. The words had poured out of him with shaking sobs, dumping all of the trauma inside of him onto the boy who had just come to retrieve a forgotten textbook.

They had been inseparable ever since, Ominis had even officially moved into the home in Feldcroft, finally able to escape his family. He had sat with Sebastian when he received the news of Anne’s demise, tears of his own mixing with his on the quivering parchment in his hand. When he discovered how she had passed away alone and far from home at some London inn. The Aurors who found her only knowing to alert Sebastian by a folded up bit of parchment in her robes, A letter Sebastian had written to her just after he returned to Hogwarts after she had been cursed.

And Ominis had stayed when MC did not, her presence in his life fading more and more as the weeks passed after the night in the catacomb. Even more so, after Anne’s death when Sebastian had spiralled into the darkness of his mind. Swathed in guilt and grief with no foreseeable way of escaping it all.

He had been too caught up in his own pain to mind any attention to hers, and he had lost her completely. By the time he had relearned how to be alive again, she was gone. The situation too tedious to try and mend. He had let her go, knowing she’d be far better off without him, and by the time graduation came around, she was hardly more than a memory and had become yet another ache in his heart.

It was Ominis who had put him onto the pretty little blonde, a rag tossed over his shoulder as he leant across the bar to tell him all about how she was french and looking for a good time that Sebastian was all too happy to give.

Sebastian finally pulled himself out of his reminiscing, and out of his bed, to ready himself for his shift. The girl from last night already fading into just another memory of a good time.

~*~ The chill of the late morning air and the smoke in his lungs steadied Sebastian’s racing heart as he stood upon the roof of St. Mungos.

His morning had been taken up entirely by a handful of Aurors who had walked straight into a trap laid by a cell of dark wizards, led by a tip from an informant who had been playing both sides. He and his fellow Healers had managed to save most, but the one he had not is what had sent him up to the roof to clear his head, and settle his stomach. Every one of his failures twisted in his gut like a blade, making him want to crawl out of his skin.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he took another long drag of his cigarette, willing the vision of the aurors final moments from his brain, though he knew he’d be stuck with it until he drew his own final breath, just like all of the others.

He was pulled from his morbid reverie by a trainee healer, summoning him back inside from her place at the door, her arms crossed over her chest, an instinctual attempt to shield herself from the cold. Sebastian flicked the half finished smoke from his fingers as he turned to follow her back inside, the cigarette disappearing before it hit the ground.

The trainee quickly filled him in on his call as they descended the stairs, two at a time.

“Another Auror.. Got splinched when they attempted to apparate her here, away from the scene. Suspect her body was too weak to handle apparition. Had to arrange for an emergency portkey, she’s in a bad state.”

Sebastian nodded along, his heart racing once again, with a mix of adrenaline and dread.

Their feet landed simultaneously on the landing of the fourth floor, and the elder healer slammed through the door, to a small crowd and a blood bath. Right there in the corridor. He pushed his way through the onlooking Aurors in varying states of distress, to the figure lying on the floor, writhing and gasping in a pool of her own blood.

He had been so lost in taking in the damage, the hurt, his mind whirring a million miles a minute at the prospect of what he was walking into, he hadn’t taken a moment to register her face.

A face he knew, a face that had him stop dead in his tracks. It was as if ice water had replaced the blood in his veins as he stood over MC, convinced his racing heart had now stopped completely.

“MC?”

He allowed himself no more than a half second hesitation before he kneeled beside her twitching form. His eyes roamed her injured body, avoiding her face, unable to force himself to witness the pain there. As his hands found a wound in her abdomen, he knew this was more than a splinch, the mutilation was more than simply severed flesh.

Sebastian turned to look at the Auror standing closer than the others, trying to ignore the sounds of his old friends choked gasping. He had to bite back an exasperated laugh as he stared into the face of Leander Prewett.

“Prewett.” He closed his eyes, fixing his tone, the greeting had come out much more venomous than intended. The shock and terror he felt about this situation clouding his mind. “Can you tell me what happened?” He tried keeping his voice steady, as he always did when he took on the role of calm and collected healer as he questioned the man standing above him, who looked as panicked as he felt. Leander gave Sebastian a polite nod before recollecting the moment of MC’s injury.

“She’s..she's a scout. She went in first, surveyed the area… she knew it was a trap before any of us realized… one of the bastards ran her through with a blade… he came out of nowhere. Then.. it was just chaos… we were surrounded… After things were under control, we tried everything to stop the bleeding… to fix her. Wiggenweld, essence of dittany, every healing spell they teach us in the program. Nothing worked.”

Sebastians seemed to brain click back into place, and he shook off another laugh of realization as he lifted MC into his arms and off the stone floor, the sight of his lime green robes spreading beneath him a striking contrast against the pool of blood he had been kneeling in.

“Cursed. I’m positive the blade was cursed.” He nodded his head at the trainee healer who had been standing behind him, observing his work and she sprinted off for the alchemy lab, the knowledge she had absorbed from Sebastian at this point in her training made a verbal request redundant. Sebastian turned to push through into a hospital room to lay MC on the clean cot. He tried once again, to ignore the sight and sounds of the girl fighting for her life, the girl he once thought was the love of his life. Leander followed them inside, planting himself on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes never once leaving MC’s bloodied form. Sebastian couldn’t help the passing thought that the two Aurors were together, or the jealousy that suddenly roared inside of him at the thought.

He moved to the cabinet above the bed, his touch letting the lock release and the door fall open. He grabbed a small glass vial and turned back to Leander and MC, setting it down on the small wooden table beside him.

To ease Leander’s mind as much as his own, Sebastian welcomed the habitual way he slipped into a calm recitation of what he knew to be the issue, and how they could resolve it. Even now, amidst the chaos and fear, Sebastian felt a swell of pride and peace fill his chest, knowing he had found exactly what he was meant to do with his life.

“Suspect the blade was cursed to make the wound untreatable, to prevent any common healing rectification to take hold, unfortunately I also suspect it’s why we can’t heal the splinch either. The curse affects the entirety of her body, including new injuries. So this..” Sebastian holds up the small glass vial. “...Will hopefully slow the bleeding, while I do my work, the counter charms tend to take a bit of time, time that we do not have.”

Sebastian expected Leander to pelt him with panicked questions, or threaten his life if he did not manage to save MC. Reactions he was accustomed to receiving by loved ones of his patients, instead, the redhead simply nodded, his face stoic and determined. The Healer couldn’t help but wonder if the Auror was simply still in shock, numb from the battle. A part of him wished Prewett would yell or curse or panic, then, at the very least the only sound in the room would not be the sounds of their dying friend.

The Healer had no time to psychoanalyze the Auror, instead he put him to work.

“Alright, Prewett. Would you mind giving me a hand holding her head back?”

Leander didn’t hesitate as he gently took MC’s head in his hands, and tilted it back so Sebastian could pour the potion down her throat, with shaky hands, trembling with anxiety at seeing his former friend in such a state. Prewett’s hands on her head ensured she didn’t choke them back up or spit them out in her fight for breath.

Despite Sebastian being finished feeding her the potion, Prewett didn’t move his hand away from where it rested on the top of her head, his fingers trailing through her hair in what could only be interpreted as comfort.

Sebastian stamped down the bubbling angry jealousy at the gesture, and set the empty vial into a hole in the wall, where they promptly disappeared, knowing it would reappear back in the alchemy lab instantly, ready to be sterilized and reused.

He returned to the side of the bed, pulling out his wand, and began softly muttering the necessary charms and counter curses. So lost in his work, he didn’t notice his trainee return, setting the necessary potions for the course of the treatment onto the table, at his side.

He wasn’t so lost in his work, however, that he didn’t hear when Prewett finally spoke up, his voice quiet and soft, words directed at the trainee. His gaze was on MC who was still in a state of agony, her gasping still the only sounds in the room until he had begun to speak.

“I told them we shouldn’t have tried apparating with her, that we should wait for a portkey or summon for a healer to come to her.”

The trainee shook her head in sympathy, her mouth opening and closing, completely unaware of what to say, how to help the man who had brought MC to them to be saved. Sebastian understood this was one of the hardest parts of the job, of their careers. Dealing with the patients' friends and family. When MC’s body seemed to be wrapped up in a golden light, he exhaled softly, and lifted his wand from where it rested centimeters above her body, its tip lit with the same golden light. Then, he sent his trainee out to assist the other healers with their work.

He attempted to crack a joke, to lighten the mood now that he knew he could fix her, heal her.

“Turns out some Aurors do have brain function. Wouldn’t have expected it to be you though, Prewett.”

Sebastian felt a bit of satisfaction when his playful jab pulled Leanders gaze away from the girl in the bed, and on him with a roll of his eyes and a small smirk. It wasn’t Leander who returned the banter, however. The choked words and sound of MC’s voice made both men startle.

“Fuck off, Sallow.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the grin that split his face, and Leander wore a matching one as he looked back at her, quickly pulling his hand away from where he still had it laid on her head. She was still twitching slightly and her face was still contorted in pain, but the curse leaving her body and the slowing of the blood flow must have had her pain dissipating just enough to be coherent.

“Well, seems she’s at least in good spirits.”

Leander spoke first, and Sebastian knew he had to pull himself together. His mind already running with hope that this could be what brings MC back to him, this could be his chance to redeem himself to the last person alive he still felt indebted to do so.

When MC met Leanders gaze, and her pained look twisted into an almost smile, Sebastian swallowed thickly, his arm moving to pull out another potion from the cabinet.

“You two together, then?”

Before either Auror could respond to his query, a knock on the door pulled all three of their attentions towards it. It opened slowly, revealing an older, official looking wizard, who barely glanced at the girl in the bed before turning his stoic gaze on Leander. “Prewett. Boss wants your statement. Now.”

Leander stiffened, his eyes flicking between the man in the door, MC and Sebastian. Who was torn between wanting information and wanting to be rid of the one thing standing between him and being alone with MC. He continued his work, pretending not to pay any attention to the exchange as he gently applied the potion to the two gaping wounds in MC’s abdomen.

MC hissed at the sensation of the liquid dripping into her body through her lesions and she spoke to Leander through gritted teeth, her voice tight with pain, assuring him she would be fine. Prewett rolled his eyes, but patted her arm gingerly, and made his departure with a small scowl.

Sebastian kept his gaze on his work on the injuries, smiling when he watched the essence of dittany do its job, stitching her flesh back together. His grin grew wider when it stayed that way, his mind now reverting back to what he could possibly say now, with his work nearly done, the girl beneath him nearly healed.

“Merlin, that feels so weird every time.” MC’s voice sounded lighter, less tight and laced with pain as she commented on Sebastian’s healing work on her damaged body. Sebastian tilted his head to smirk down at her, another playful glint in his eye.

“Finding yourself injured quite a bit then, MC?”

Clearly uncomfortable with the seemingly imbalanced power dynamic with Sebastian standing above her, MC tried to raise herself up into a sitting position with shaky arms, ignoring his teasing comment. Despite the pain dissipating with the disappearance of her wounds, she was still quite pale and Sebastian could see the dizziness in her eyes. He instinctively grasped her shoulders to lie her back down on the bed, earning himself a scowl that brought him right back to age 15 when he’d try and steal from her Honeydukes haul.

“Oh wipe that scowl off your face, I’m trying to help you, you know. I’ve already saved your life.” Sebastians tone was firm, but laced with a familiar playfulness he always felt with her. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, MC. It’s why you feel so weak.” MC, in fact, did not wipe the scowl from her face, but she did lie back down. Sebastian was grateful for the small victory as he popped the cork of the last vial, the one the trainee had fetched for him from the alchemy lab.

He offered the vial to MC with a small smile, and an expectant look.

“Drink up, Buttercup.”

Her scowl deepened, but she obediently took the vial with shaking hands, but before she tipped it back she looked back at Sebastian.

“Am I at least allowed to ask what this is or am I just supposed to trust you?”

Sebastian knew she meant nothing more from her choice of words, but they stung just the same. His mind ran off with memories of everything he had put her through with her trust in him. How he had lost her trust, her friendship, her love for him with his reckless pursuit in their adolescence.

He recovers quickly, with a roll of his eyes as he tilts the vial up to her lips with two fingers.

“It’s just a blood replenishing potion, I promise. Now, drink before you pass out.” He crosses his arms, watching her expectantly, before cracking another joke and making a move to stop her from downing the vial. “On second thought, if you do pass out I won’t have to put up with your sass.”

MC shoots him an unconvincing glare as she swallows the dark red liquid, wincing at the taste. It was hard to believe that it had been nearly six years since the two had seen one another, and had been even longer since they’d had a proper conversation. Yet, here they were, falling into easy banter as if no time at all had come to pass.

As Sebastian brings the vial back to the depository to send it back to the Alchemy room, MC clears her throat, and with the effects of the potion already settling into her system, she sits up in the bed using arms that are now much more stable.

“We aren’t… together, just so you know. Leander and I. We’re just friends, partners at work, but not… together.”

When Sebastian doesn’t respond right away, because he’s lost in a sea of thoughts of everything more this could mean for him, for the hope he had slowly building inside his heart. She speaks again, her voice sounding much more irritable.

“You asked, before… which is why I’m telling you. You asked.”

Sebastian gives her another teasing grin, quirking an eyebrow at her ready defense as he returns to her bedside.

“Ah, and here I thought you were simply coming onto me. Wouldn’t be surprising if I'm honest. Happens all the time, when I save pretty little witches from their untimely demise. Quite common for Healers actually.”

MC scoffs, crossing her legs beneath her on the bed. Her strength and personality slowly coming back to her again, with an adequate amount of blood now pumping through her veins.

“Clearly your ego hasn’t dissolved with age, Sebastian.”

Sebastian manages an easy laugh at her retort, the clipboard coming from the wall and into his hands. His mind running off with thoughts on just how long he could keep her here, at St. Mungos, under healer advisement. Keep her here with him, take away any chance for her to bolt back out of his life, give him a chance to make things right.

“Quite the opposite, really. I’m surprised I don’t fall over with how big my head is.”

MC rolls her eyes, muttering something about it’s so full of air I’m surprised you don’t float away. Her gaze falling to the clipboard in Sebastians’ hands.

“You’re not keeping me here, are you?”

Sebastian glances away from the form in his hand, and at MC’s scowling face ready for a fight. He lets out a heavy sigh as he drops the clipboard, and crosses his arms over his chest, giving her his best stern look of authority.

“You were cursed, MC, and you lost a decent amount of blood.”

The Healer should have known better than to expect MC to see logic and sense. She bristled at his words, swinging her legs from the bed with a look of determination. Sebastian half-hoped she’d wobble as she stood, then he could at least feel justified in his desire to keep her here.

No such luck. MC stood in a firm stance, and then pranced around the small room. As if to prove she was well and able to get the hell out of this place. Sebastian couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him at her antics that were bordering on playful. She continued moving around, glaring at Sebastian all the while. Though luck was back on his side, when she attempted a spin. The motion giving way to a bout of dizziness that had Sebastian catching her with a small, exasperated, laugh.

Sebastian guided her back to the bed, a look of triumph on his face as she blinked slowly, trying to steady the whirling inside of her head. He raises his arms in innocent submission when he tries to help her onto the bed, which had earned him a deadly glare.

“Habit, MC. This is my job after all.” He defends himself with a signature smirk, the corner of his mouth tilting slightly upward. MC made a sound in her throat, as she settled back on the bed, her glare unsubsiding.

“Yes, well. I still feel as though I’m alright to leave, Healer Sallow. I promise not to spin in circles like a buffoon for the foreseeable future.”

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully, doing everything he could to avoid looking at her face, each time he had since her return to the world of the living, it felt like the vice around his heart tightened further, stealing the air from his lungs. He busied himself with his clipboard, flipping the pages of parchment as if searching for something.

“Oh? No apparating? No traveling by Portkey? Going to travel like a proper muggle are you?” When his words got no snarky defense from the girl lying on the bed, he forced himself to look at her and fixed his tone back to Healer, rather than something akin to a friend. “I can’t force you to stay, MC, but I’d feel much more comfortable if you, at the very least, stuck around for just a few more hours. Until I am absolutely certain you are alright.”

MC heaved a dramatic sigh, huffing and puffing as she made a show of getting comfortable on the bed. Her eyes narrowed in his direction all the while, looking much more like a petulant child than a fearless Auror. Sebastian took her silent movements as an agreement, under the assumption this is the best he would get from the prideful girl.

“Oh come now, MC, no need to pout. Come on, sweetheart, give me a smile.” That did the trick, Sebastian thought, as he watched the fire light in her eyes once again at his words, her head whipping around to face him. Though, before she had a chance to speak or curse, Sebastian continued on. “Would you like to hear a joke? Always seems to cheer up my pouting patients, though they’re usually children… but I suppose with your current behavior you’re one and the same.”

He gave her a cheeky grin to counter her deadly glare.

This is nice, he thought to himself, Just like we’re fifteen again.

“If looks could kill…” The Healer muttered, his smile unfading. “Now, What’s a vampire's favorite ship?” He let the start of his joke hang in the air, completely aware that MC would not offer up the punchline. He delivered it with a theatrical grin and open hands. “...A blood vessel.”

MC met his joke with a loud groan, her eyes closed but the hint of an exasperated smile on her face.

“Please, Sebastian. Six years later and your jokes still suck?”

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest, six years, since they had seen one another. It had been even longer since the two of them had been anything that could be considered remotely close. He knew this, of course. The thought plaguing his brain whenever he was still, whenever he couldn’t fill it with his work, or distract himself with pretty witches he found in pubs.

It was hearing it from her mouth, in her words, that had his hands pausing from where they had been scrawling a note to send to the Alchemy lab. They trembled now, with a mix of anticipation and dread. Sebastian took a deep breath, his exhale slow, the sudden reality settling on his chest and clearing his head of anything but his need to fix this, to bring her back. He tapped the parchment with his wand, watching it fold itself up into the shape of a bird before flitting towards the door. He walked over to release it into the corridor, allowing it to continue to its destination.

Sebastian slowly shut the door, turning back around to face the girl he had been desperately and painfully missing for the better part of a decade, who was now two feet away from him with a small smile on her face, from his dreadful joke. The click of the door closing again seemed to suck all of the air out of the small room, and that smile was fading now, MC picking up on the sudden, awkward tension.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, awkwardly. Wondering how the hell one even starts a conversation such as this. He decides that’s exactly where to start. All these years later, after all of the mistakes and avoidance and emotional immaturity, the only thing that needed to be said was the truth, and Sebastian decided that would start now.

No matter how awkward and tense the conversation may be, Sebastian was not going to give up this chance, perhaps his only chance at saying what he had been wanting to say for years. He had to do it for himself, and for the hope that still flickered in his heart for them, together.

“MC… I… I don’t even know where to start with this… with me… and you… and us.”

He clears his throat again, forcing down the growing lump of emotion that was threatening to overcome him. His gaze flicked from where he had taken a sudden interest in the stone floor, to MC, who was now white as a sheet and her chest heaving, in quick and short bursts.

Sebastian continued on, certain that her demeanor was from him, his words, and not remnants of the curse she had befallen. He pulled the chair meant for visitors of patients, and slid it close to her bedside, seating himself on it. Moving his eyesight to his sweating hands clasped in front of him, away from the girl staring at him with wide eyes.

“Suppose the best place to start is with an apology… though I don’t think there’s anything I can say or do that would even come close to proving to you how sorry I am. For how I treated you, how I let myself pull away from you… and never even tried to come back.”

He paused to swallow, to try and work something into coherency in his head. He startled when MC swung her legs off the side of the bed to face him head on, her voice seeming much louder than it was in the silent room.

“What are you talking about, Sebastian?”

Her words left him reeling with confusion, and he managed to make himself look at her, slightly above him with her position on the bed. MC’s face was concerned, laced with confusion that only served to deepen his own.

“I.. um.” Perhaps she had forgotten? Or this had only been a heartbreaking journey for him? Perhaps his last two years in school, drowning in grief had addled his brain? His recollection?

He didn’t know the answers, and his racing pulse seemed to quicken even further. Still, he had to keep trying. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let her leave again. Not without hearing everything he had always meant to say, before it had been too late. Sebastian ran his hands down his face, as if to wipe away the confusion, the anxiety and he heard her take a deep, shaking breath just as he had minutes ago.

When he removed his hands, MC was meeting his gaze. Her eyes now swimming with tears of her own. They were mirrors of one another. Hands clasped in laps, pulses racing, cheeks twinged pink, eyes filled with tears threatening to fall. The Healer was certain, if he concentrated just hard enough, he would be able to hear the sounds of their hearts pounding in the silent room.

They kept a locked gaze for a beat, before she closed her eyes, a look of anxious determination crossing her face as she did so. As if willing herself to trudge on.

Then, she touched him.

She leant forward, to curl her fingers around his shoulders, over the stains of her blood still present on his robes, as if to steady him, steady both of them. Despite the air leaving his lungs at the feeling of her hands on his body, no matter how innocent the touch, He felt his pulse evening out. The look in her eyes was full of hurt and concern, not anger or resentment.

“Have you… thought this… us… was your fault all this time? That you were solely responsible for… this?”

Her words settled in his mind, exacerbating his confusion, because of course he was. This was all his fault, just as everything that had transpired in their schooldays was his fault. The look on his face must have betrayed his thoughts because as his mouth opened, ready to spill everything. She cut him off with a laugh, an incredulous look on her face as she looked past him. Sebastian could nearly see the gears turning in her mind, he waited for her to return from whatever recesses of her mind she had retreated too before he tried speaking once again.

Once again, being cut off by the girl he knew he was still desperately in love with.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, not really anyway. I just… am baffled that you have spent the better part of ten years believing that the death of our friendship rested entirely on your shoulders.”

Sebastian was the one feeling dumbfounded. He had been the one to seal himself away from anyone who tried to show him the tiniest bit of kindness after Solomon’s death. He had been the one to disappear nearly entirely when he got word of Anne joining their Uncle in an eternal rest. It had only been Ominis that he allowed to stand by his side as he buried her beside Solomon, if only as yet another offering of remorse for his actions that brought them all to that moment.

Of course the distance between Sebastian and MC was entirely his fault. He was the one who put it there, drove a wedge between them with his grief and his guilt. When he opened his mouth to say so, to explain, to accept the responsibility his voice was soft, and sincere.

“Because it was, MC. I was the one who disappeared. Who created this distance between us, built a wall and didn’t let anyone behind it. It was all entirely my fault. You were the one always chiding me about accepting the consequences of my actions, of my choices. That’s what I’m doing. Hoping that by doing so, we can… start over.”

MC took his admission with another breathy laugh, and a roll of her eyes. It had Sebastian contemplating what he possibly could have been missing from this equation. Why was she acting as though he was innocent? As though he had done nothing to cause this rift between them? Was it Pity? The thought of the girl he had pushed away, pitying him was enough to create a pit the size of a graphorn in his stomach. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and shaking.

He steeled himself, and said the one thing he had always, viscerally, wanted to say.

“I loved you, MC. I still love you. Even when I was acting as though I couldn’t care less about you. I was in love with you. There’s a part of me that thinks that I always will be, which is why I need you to listen to me. Let me try and fix this! Because there’s also a part of me that still believes you love me too.”

His voice raised an octave, as passion flowed through him and his speech. Sebastian took another risk, taking her cold hands into his, his thumbs gently caressing the unbelievably soft skin on the backs of her hands.

“Please.”

The tears that had been building in her eyes finally fell as Sebastian stared into her face with impassioned determination. He watched as they raced down her cheeks, falling onto their clasped hands. He watched as she took another shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“No, Sebastian. It was me. I left. I could have tried harder to be there for you when… after… Well, everything. But I didn’t want to. I was sick over how much you had lost because of me. I should have listened to Ominis when he told me not to encourage you with the relic. I should have stopped you from… I should have stopped you that night in the catacombs with Solomon. I could have and I didn’t.”

She takes a beat, to breathe deeply again.

“Then, Anne. Merlin. I… I just couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to… to be around you after she. After I couldn’t save her. The guilt of everything that was my fault, and seeing how hurt you were because of it all. I just… I distanced myself from you. It was me, Sebastian. I wanted this, because I was selfish and couldn’t accept what I had done, that I had played a part in all of your pain. Because I loved you too.”

The room was silent once again. Save for the sounds of their shared labored breathing, both of them trying to catch their breath after their passionate confessions and exclamations. Both of them trying to absorb the other's words. They had lived entirely separate lives, distanced themselves from one another because they both believed themselves to be at fault. If they could have just talked to one another, all those years ago, perhaps it wouldn’t have had to be this way. Perhaps MC wouldn’t have had to face death to see Sebastian again.

Sebastian was about to shoulder more blame, tell her how he could have chased her, could have tried harder once he had crawled out of his hole of grief stricken depression. Though before he could say anything, he was smiling softly, his eyebrow quirked with mild amusement and curiosity. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

“Loved? As in past tense?”

Despite it all, that incessant hope in his heart flickered still, and he held his breath while he watched her expression soften. Her hands dropped his, and she caressed his face with gentle fingers. “Don’t think I let myself think about it too much, or for too long… because it’s painful too. But I think you know that I do, still, love you, Sebastian.”

He did know, deep, deep down, but still, he wanted to hear her say it. It had been worth it, hearing those words from her mouth had his heart feeling like it was going to burst forth from his chest. The tears of guilt and anxiety now replaced with tears of joy he had not felt in a long, long time. It felt as though the weight of the entire world was lifted from his chest, like he was breathing fresh air for the first time after months underground.

Sebastian stood up, to hold MC’s face in his hands and stare into her eyes, hoping that she could sense his sincerity.

“We were both stupid kids. Didn’t know what the hell we were doing, I’m still sorry, and I will forever blame myself for us being in this position now… but we’re not kids anymore. Do you think… Do you think we could do this? Fix this? Be together?”

He was nervous to ask, but the look in her eyes wasn’t dowsing his hope, it was igniting it. Her lips slowly curled into a smile, and her voice was soft, and as sincere as he felt.

“I’d like to try.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth when his lips were pressing against hers, his fingers moving to tangle into her hair, still caked with her own blood. Some part of Sebastian expected to feel sparks, or some dramatic swell of emotion that made him weak in the knees, but the kiss settled into his heart like he’d been dosed with a calming draught, like this is where he had always meant to be, with her lips on his.

Sebastian had been so lost in the moment, in this reconciliation with MC, he had forgotten he was at work, on shift, as a Healer. The thought had managed to weasel its way into his mind, ruining the passionate moment with MC, and it felt like he had been doused with ice water.

He pulled away with an apologetic smile, and his fingers still on her chin.

It had been just in time, as at that moment the door swung open, revealing his Trainee Healer, having returned with more vials of blood-replenishing potion he had ordered for MC. He hoped that the position they were discovered in could be seen as an innocent exam.

Sebastian managed to ignore the teasing grin MC was giving him, with her back to the Trainee. He met his fellow Healer halfway into the room and accepted the vials with a smile and a thank you before she left once again, shutting the door quietly.

When Sebastian turned back around, to set the vials onto the side table beside the bed, MC had laid herself back against the pillows, playing the role of innocent patient well.

He stood beside the bed, unable to fight his smile or the urge to caress her hair as he stood at her bedside. Sebastian tried putting himself back into the role of Healer, and not lovesick former school friend.

“My shift is up in a few hours. Will you behave and be a good patient until then? Please? We can… talk.”

MC gave him a mischievous grin, and made a show of settling herself into the bed.

“I suppose I can stick around for a few more hours. I’ll be sure to be the most needy patient you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”

Her teasing comment seemed to bring the oxygen back into the room, the tension dissipating instantly as he rolled his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The tender moment making his heart swell, one he had had many a daydream about.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He slid the bottles of potion across the wooden side table, and closer to MC. “I’ll be back to make sure you take these. One every half an hour until I’m certain you have an adequate amount of blood back in your body.”

MC rolled her eyes, and Sebastian returned it with a grin before moving towards the door of the exam room and slipping outside. Before he fully left the room, he peeked back inside.

“Hey MC?” Once he had her attention, he said what he wanted to say. “I’m glad you got cursed today.”

Sebastian managed to close the door with a loud laugh, and made his way down the corridor towards his next patient, before he had to endure whatever scathing retort or hex MC undoubtedly had for him.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x f!mc #GOD this is nerve wracking #i have never been so nervy to post a fic lmao #why are fic endings so damn hard #ok here it is have fun enjoy #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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evilwriter37 · 3 months

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I need more feral Hiccup. Where he has an older brother to take over as Chief of Berk instead so Hiccup can go in all his adventures with Toothless. Maybe being known as "Stoick the Vasts' strange son." He is almost never seen around the village, and when he is, its usually just to work on more crazy inventions or an important family related thing. But even then, he is fidgety because he's not moving around near constantly. He can hang from trees, or anything he can grip onto. He lost his foot in the same way, and brought piece between Berk and the dragons. But he's still hard to control. Once he gets to about 18-19 he is finally allowed to leave the archipelago. He only followed the rule of no leaving the archipelago until a certain age. Once he leaves he finds the ship grave yard and the reaper. He explores it and finds the dragon eye. Keeping it, then making himself a target too Viggo Grimborn. They meet one night while Hiccup is just hanging out in the trees on Viggo's island. Viggo had been on a walk trying to calm down because Ryker is stupid and can't find "The dragon riding pest" who has something that belongs to them, and messes up their plans of capturing, killing and selling dragons. Hiccup was just fidgeting with something on his suit that had come loose, hanging upsidedown from a branch, back facing Viggo, who is rightfully confused. Why was this person hanging upsidedown on a tree branch for starters. And why was he on his island? Who is he?

Viggo realizes who he is once a night fury comes into view, said dragon having noticed Viggo just staring. Hiccup finishes what he was fixing and bends backwards (You know, cause hes flexible, Viggo is a little frightened by the position) to see who was behind him. He knew someone was there, he was just busy fixing something on his suit.

"So, you're the one who has been messing with my hunters." Viggo would start the conversation with. Hiccup would end up just leaving because he didn't (he did) have time for a conversation. They would keep running into each other until Viggo finally gets to see him without a mask covering his face. Viggo is taken back by how green Hiccups eyes are. And the freckles that are all over the boys face.

Obviously, Viggo isn't able to keep the feral dragon boy for long, Hiccup slips away and isn't seen for a couple weeks. In that time, Dagur joins the hunters, claiming to know Hiccup. The next time Hiccup is, somehow, captured, both Viggo and Dagur are there. He looks Dagur up and down and just says:

"Did you get uglier?" Viggo almost instantly falls in love with the way his voice sounds. He begins to become a bit, "a bit", obsessed with Hiccup. (We can go ahead and throw in some whump with this.) He then later learns that he can't keep Hiccup grounded if he wishes to get his love. Slowly, Viggo gets to know Hiccup and slowly stops hunting, killing and selling dragons. More interested in Hiccup. Obviously others are pissed about this, but Viggo doesn't care. Hiccup and Viggo start a romantic relationship over some time, Hiccup being allowed to go on his adventures when ever he wants. Not being grounded and refused the chance to be free, because thats not what Viggo wants. Hiccup always returns covered in mud, leaves, twigs in his hair, and cuts and scrapes. Viggo always help a with those, gives him the whole "You should be more careful out there" talk while doing so.

Oh, that reminds me of this post! I think when you sent this we as a fandom were discussing how Hiccup is more of an adventurer than a chief? This definitely plays into that! Him having an older brother would be super interesting. Wondering how that dynamic would work, and what would happen when others find out about Viggo.

Love their first “meeting”, by the way. Just… Hiccup hanging upside down from a tree and leaving once he’s spotted. Love how Viggo instantly clocks him as the one who’s been upending his operations.

It could be fun if something really bad happened to Hiccup on one of his adventures and Viggo has to go rescue him. The torment of worrying about him, of hoping he gets to him in time, of just not knowing.

Juicy ideas, my friend. Very juicy.

#asks #vigcup #long post

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

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Defamation of Character

Request: Enemies to lovers. Yn is a sports journalist and she’s never wrote anything favorable about Jalen but they meet at an event and the sexual tension is…there Requested by the beautiful @harlowcomehome

Warnings: language, use of derogatory terms (bitch)

A/N: I think this is the first enemies to lovers fic I've written, and who better for than Jalen?

"Y/N My office, please! Now!"

You'd just put down your lukewarm, breakroom coffee when you heard the croaky voice of your editor, John, behind you. You took a quick sip, the taste of burnt coffee beans lingering on your tongue as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew this was coming, but you thought you'd at least have the week before John would lay down the hammer with you.

You dumped your bag and coat down on top of your desk, careful not to disturb the disheveled piles of ESPN magazine issues you collected over the year, pages turned to your first articles as a sports writer, and the various notes you had scribbled on cocktail napkins and notebook paper. Your journalism methods were unorthodox, but they worked for you, as long as no one touched the piles.

You slowly made your way down the aisles of desks towards John's office, trying to delay the admonishing you knew you were about to get for as long as possible. For every good thing you heard about ESPN, ESPN magazine was exactly the opposite. A lot fewer bright lights and cameras, a lot more skeezy journalism. You passed row after row of other journalists and junior editors, desperate to find their next story, heads down with terrible posture as they frantically searched the web.

With the introduction of smart phones and social media, not only were you competing against every major news network and publication for a juicy story, you also also running against the clock with Henry from Sarasota, Florida, who happened to snap a picture of a Buccaneers player at their local bar and posted it to their Instagram. You had to be cutthroat if you wanted to make publication, and while it had made you a few enemies in the professional sporting industry, it was a risk you were willing to take.

"I swear to God you're trying to send me to an early grave." John let out a huff as he tossed a pile of papers in your direction as you took as seat opposite him. "Jalen Hurts? You just had to go after the NFL's prince, huh?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it did nothing to stop the nagging headache at the base of his skull.

"Oh good, you read it. Find any typos?" You gave him a cocky smirk, messing with the Derek Jeter bobble head on his desk. You flicked your fingers against the helmet, making the spring bounce around. Booiinngg "I was afraid it came off a bit speculative, but based on your response, it was right on the nose." Booiinngg

"Would you stop that?!". He snatched the figurine from the desk, tossing it into the trashcan. "When I gave you the editorial slot, it was supposed to be a simple profile on Jalen, not a hit piece!"

"I talked about his upbringing." You shrugged, sitting back in your chair.

"Oh yes", he snapped the paper straight, looking over the top of his glasses. "Its amazing how someone with such a humble upbringing as Jalen can turn into one of the most overrated quarterbacks of the last 10 years with his only claims to fame being the "tush push" and an inability to close out games."

"You hired me to tell a good story, not to kiss ass, John."

"No, I hired you because I owed your father a favor." Your face dropped as John balled up the piece of paper, landing it on top of the bobble head.

Your father was one of the best sports journalists of the last century, and you had done everything to make a name for yourself in an industry that just wouldn't let you forget you were a nepo baby. "Now, you've proved to be a good journalist, but if you keep picking fights with the people who keep us in business, we're gonna have a problem. I don't know if you've noticed, but print is essentially dead in the water. Everyone wants to get their news in 60 characters or less and this art form is quickly dying." You could tell John needed a stiff drink, even if it was only 8 o'clock in the morning.

You sat forward in your chair, resting your elbows on your thighs. You weren't one to be pushed around by a man, even if they did sign your paychecks. "You can't actually be blaming me for the state of this company."

"No, but it does mean that things are going to change around here", John muttered, his voice overpowered by the sound of the Redbull he was cracking open. He poured it into a coffee cup; obviously regular caffeine wasn't going to cut it today. Your heart dropped into your stomach at his confession. You'd heard whispers about layoff around the watercooler, but that's what they were, just rumors, and no one likes to talk like a journalist.

John let out a sigh as he looked at your face, concern evident. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, but I'm hoping this lights a fire under you." You perked up a the thought of fire, but he shot you down immediately, wagging a finger in the air. "This doesn't mean I want you to go out there unhinged. We're letting half the team go next week, but I haven't decided which ones are gonna go."

You knew that your seat was hanging in the balance. It wasn't a secret that you weren't the most popular person in the office, and until now, you couldn't have cared less. You're weren't here to make friends, you were here to be the best writer you could me. You'd definitely rubbed some people the wrong way, but honestly, fuck 'em. Connections meant even less to you now that you knew you were going to have less competition for prime spots in the spread.

"Ok, what do I have to do to stay here? I'll rewrite my article, try to make a Hurts a little more likeable. It'll be hard work, but I'll do my best." You were half joking, half serious.

John took a swig from his cup, finishing off his drink with a cough as the medicinal taste hit his taste buds. "No, if you pull another stunt like that, you'll be the first to clean out your desk. I have another assignment for you."

****

You let out a hard sigh as you placed the "PRESS" lanyard around your neck and made your way through the crowded tunnel beneath Lincoln Financial Field. You weren't exaggerating when you said that sideline reporting was beneath you. It's grunt work to put it nicely, and with the added potential for injury if a 300 pound lineman comes careening into the crowd, it was the last assignment you wanted today.

"Welcome fans to Lincoln Financial Field where the Philadelphia Eagles will face off against the Minnesota Vikings", the announcer's voice was muffled through inches of concrete. You pushed past drones of photographers and security as the crowd's roar shook the ground beneath your feet. Finally, you caught the fresh air as you reached the field. Even in your salty mood, you could admit that there was nothing quite as electric as stepping onto a football field. The energy surging through your body was unlike anything you've experienced and it was one of the reasons you stayed in this industry so long.

You slung your camera off your neck and bent down to take a couple of photos of the players stretching on the field. Once you were satisfied with your photos, you took a second to look through them. You took a subconscious step back as you saw a couple of players jogging past you into the tunnel and ended up colliding with a hard body.

"Ow!", you grimaced, rubbing your elbow that collided with hardened plastic. You turned on your heels to see the object of your hit piece standing behind you, his signature blinding white smile on display. "Excuse me, Ms. Nosey", Jalen chuckled as he hung his helmet underneath his arm. If you didn't hate his guts, that southern drawl might have pulled you in.

"Hurts, you planning on choking in the fourth quarter, or is that just something you reserve for playoff games?" You were stunned by your own words, the vitriol firing out before your brain could catch up. You caught the flash of hurt on his face before his features softened, once again, giving you a sincere grin that you really didn't deserve. "You have a nice day now." He left you standing on the sidelines, a pang of guilt hitting you in the chest. You shook it off, raising your camera to snap a picture of him as he reached the middle of the field.

****

The game was uneventful, the Eagles wiping the floor with Minnesota and much to your chagrin, you really didn't have much to write an article about. You knew John was just trying to get you off of his back without actually getting rid of you, at least for now, but it hurt to know that your talent could easily be condensed into a couple of sentences some guy would read to catch up on the game while they were taking their midday bathroom break.

You jotted down a couple of notes in your notebook so you wouldn't forget them while the field cleared out. It was at this point that you'd usually head to the locker rooms for post-game comments, but instead you were just going to head home early and finish your write up before the nights end.

Your focus was on your phone as you walked through the tunnel toward the parking deck. You were texting your friend to see if she wanted to grab drink when you heard the sound of laughter roaring to the right of you. You stopped in your tracks to read the PLAYERS LOCKER ROOM placard.

What could it hurt to sneak in and get a couple of quotes from Jalen? You weren't above editing your article to John's liking, especially when you knew what hung in the balance. You flashed your press badge to the security guard posted at the door and hid in the back of the crowd of journalists and videographers.

Of course they were all huddled around Jalen as he sat at his locker, he had a stellar performance tonight, and still he was as humble as ever, deflecting compliments from the reporters.

"Ya know man, its a testament to my team, they've always got my back", Jalen confessed, his toned body stretching the tight white undershirt he had on. You felt your stomach jump as he shed the tank, his ab muscles flexing as he took in a deep breath.

"But you've gotta admit, Jalen, there's no one with the yardage you've got, and your completions put you in the top 10 quarterbacks of all time." You couldn't tell if it was a reporter speaking, or the president of the Jalen Hurts fan club. "I mean, you're just fantastic."

The chuckle you let out was louder than intended, a hush falling over the room as everyone turned to see who wasn't in agreement.

"There you are. My biggest fan!" Jalen laughed as he stood, the crowd parting as he made his way toward you. He towered over you, the mix of sweat and cologne flooding your senses. He had a way of making it feel like you two were the only two in the room, even though you knew all eyes were on you. "Liked what you saw out there?" The way he spoke, his cadence even and smooth, oozed confidence, and that pissed you off.

"Like I said earlier, you seem to reserve your biggest flops for when you're down to the wire. This was just a regular season game, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion when the time comes." You could hear the snickers and uncomfortable shuffles around you; it wasn't often you got a front row seat to see a lowly journalist go toe to toe with an NFL great.

One thing you had to admit, was this guy was calm under pressure. Even as the crowd dispersed, his gaze was focused on you, sizing you up of sorts. "Did I do something to piss you off?" She stroked at his jawline, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath.

"Is it really a surprise that not everyone is a fan of you?" You pulled out your phone to start recording your conversation. Jalen stopped you just as you were about to press the large red button on the screen. "I'm not interested in giving you a soundbite that you can manipulate for your next story. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Its not manipulation when you're telling the truth. Maybe its just not what you want to hear."

"Whatever you say", Jalen turned to walk back to his locker. You found yourself staring as he shed his football pants, his toned backside on display. You turned out of embarrassment, closing your eyes as you held your phone of your shoulder towards him. "Listen, if you have a problem with my article, you're welcome to dispute it with the organization. It wouldn't be the first time."

You couldn't see it, but you knew he tensed up at your jab. Jalen had a history of stifling stories that he didn't agree with. He sighed as he pulled his shirt over his head. "If you're talking about the Men's Health spread, I wasn't gonna let them slander my family."

"Whatever you say", you repeated in a mocking tone.

"You don't know nothin' about me, and still you hate me. Why is that?"

"I never said I hated you."

"What'd you call it then?"

"Healthy skepticism." Jalen let out a humorless breath. "You don't even know me."

"Oh I know you. You think that everything belongs to you. That you deserve everything. I know everything I need to know about you." You felt a push at your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and face him. "You're just like every other guy." You avoided eye contact. Even if you didn't care for Jalen Hurts, your vagina wouldn't let you deny he was fuckin' gorgeous.

You tried to remain stoic as he studied your face for a second. "You know what?", the smirk on his face had your head spinning. "I'm throwing a fundraiser this weekend, and I could use a plus one." You scoffed as you pressed stop on your phone. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"You? Of course not." You felt the sting from his rejection. "But I think that I deserve a chance to show you that I'm not the guy you think I am." You had a hard time believing that a fundraiser full of rich oligarchs was going to change your mind about Jalen, but you had to admit you were interested. "And if I say yes? Purely for the journalism of it all?"

Jalen chuckled as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Then you'll have a good meal and get to take a break from being such a bitch." You stumbled back as he walked past you, a look of shock on your face. "If you think I'd ever go to an event as your date, you're crazy!" You yelled after him, shoving your equipment into your bag with a huff.

"What an asshole."

****

The next morning you arrived to the office with a raging hangover, the result of two many espresso martinis as you vented to your friend about your interaction with Jalen. He completely rubbed you the wrong way, leaving a nasty feeling you just couldn't shake off. You struggled to get out a bed after staying up late and trying to finish your article on him in a drunken stupor. You didn't even want to think about the editing your work was going to need now.

You barely noticed the whispers and stares as you walked to your desk, nursing a double espresso you picked up on the way in. You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and read the notification that your friend sent you with a link to a TikTok video with a frantic message to "LOOK AT THIS NOW!", but it'd have to wait, you had a briefing in 15 minutes.

You stopped in front of your cubicle at the sigh of the two dozen red roses that were taking most of the space on your desk.

You hadn't been on a date in months, and you weren't the type to garner a secret admirer, so you had no idea who these could have been from. Luckily, the small white card would answer any of your questions pretty quickly.

You unsheathed the card, which was scrawled with prefect calligraphy.

"Jalen Hurts and the KB Foundation invite you to the 2nd Annual Dinner and Gala in support of the foundation's effort to honor the children of Philadelphia. Drinks will start at 6pm followed by Dinner at 8pm. Dress Code is Black Tie."

You bit at your lip as you read the card over a few times. You thought that Jalen was just fucking with you when he extended the invite in person yesterday, and he couldn't seriously think you'd actually attend. You tossed the card and envelope on top of the never ending pile of papers and placed the flowers on a neighboring empty desk.

You were just opening your computer when you heard your name shot from across the office.

"Y/N! Get in my office NOW!" It had to be some sort of personal record, the number of times you'd been called into John's office in the last couple of weeks. You grabbed your notebook and cup of coffee and shuffled to his office with your tail between your legs.

He slammed the door behind you as soon as you stepped foot in the room. "You have some fuckin' explaining to do!"

You sat down, getting comfortable for another one of his lectures. "John, if this is about the flowers, I didn't know he was going to send them. I already got rid of them. I know you don't like joy-"

"Will you stop with the juvenile one-liners?! This isn't about some fuckin' flowers. It's about this." He turned his laptop in your direction. On the screen a video of you and Jalen standing in the middle of the Eagles locker room was playing over and over. You didn't need to hear the sound, you remembered exactly what was said. "I can explain." You swallowed repeatedly to get rid of the lump in your throat to no avail. "I know this doesn't look good."

"You're damn right it doesn't look good!" John huffed and ran a hand through his greasy brown mop. "It looks so bad, we've had our press rights revoked at Lincoln. Turns out they don't take too kindly to press fighting with the players."

"John, there's got to be some way to fix this. I can take an extra assignment, get on my knees and beg." You regretted ever stepping foot in the locker room now.

"You're right, there is a way to fix this." John sat down at his desk, adjusting himself in his seat and closing his laptop. "You're fired."

You thought you were going to pass out. This couldn't be happening. "John, please, I know I can make this right."

"Its too late for that, Y/N. Pack your stuff up and security will escort you to your car."

#jalen hurts #jalenhurts #jalen hurts fan fiction #jalen hurts fan fic #jalen hurts angst #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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abcd-adventures · 4 months

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Ugh.

So, obviously, being a human, I screw up regularly at my job. That's to be expected, and it's usually fine. I have zero problems owning up to mistakes/missteps/misunderstandings/whatever. And, I think in relationships, it usually only makes things stronger when you go through those things and come out on the other side with a new understanding and stronger communication and bond. But yesterday...wow...I had this whole idea of this big therapeutic moment that I was going to have with this client and it went SO, SO BADLY...I mean were I watching it on tv or something it would be comedically bad.

I took one of my clients to the cemetery to visit his grandmother's grave yesterday. I could go into all the reasons this was a huge deal, but that's a whole other post. But, it's been something that was a long time coming and was supposed to be this big moment...annnnnnd we get there, and the cemetery is HUGE and it was one of those things where, of course, you THINK you remember exactly where you need to go, but then the place is a zillion times bigger than in your memory and everything looks kind of the same, so then it's overwhelming. Well, he remembered that they have maps there, so I volunteered to go in and request one since it was packed in the office and my client didn't want to walk into a room full of dressed up, grieving, white people. I finally get someone to help me and she looks up the name and is like, "No, we don't have anyone here by that name. Sorry. We have other cemeteries, maybe try there." The other ones are all the way across town. So, I go back out and talk to my client, but he is sure that this is the right cemetery, so then he goes in with me, and the woman immediately becomes WAY more rude and argues with him that he is wrong because her "system" could never be wrong, and I have to get him out of there before things escalate after he starts getting pissed and giving her some choice words and we start disrupting whatever is going on with all the well-dressed white people. We go back out to the car and he is shaking with rage and I look online and there's apparently a website called Find a Grave, and I look up his grandmother and sure enough, she is there at the cemetery we are currently at, and it has some code and even a PICTURE of the headstone. So, with phone and PICTURE in hand, we go back in. The woman is pissed at us at this point and hands my client a clipboad with a stack of papers on it that he is supposed to fill out for an inquiry?? And, he was...to be concise...like, "Fuck you and fuck that," and I asked to speak to someone in charge because the all-knowing internet is telling us his grandmother is in this cemetery and we are not filling out an inquiry, we just want a map!!!! So, the manager comes out and I show him the website and the photo and the code thing, and oh, magically, such a place exists! And, he brings us a map, but then he insists on ESCORTING US over there. I told him that was unnecessary, but he insisted, so then we get there and things are not in the best shape and this fucking guy is fussing around trying to tidy things up while my client is seconds from exploding and I was just like, "PLEASE leave. Thank you for your help, but please, please leave now and let us have a minute." Thank God he did as I asked. But, wow. what a nightmare. It took us an hour and fifteen minutes after arriving at the cemetery to get to the actual gravesite. Nothing therapeutic was happening at that point.

We did tidy up a little and leave her flowers, and we sat for a minute, but between the anger and frustration and the sadness and everything that was brought up by the whole...thing...it was just a mess, and he just wanted to leave. I felt HORRIBLE. I do not have a ton of experience with this kind of thing, but I have another client who we have been working up to visiting his son's grave, but now I know that I will 100% go by on my own first and make sure we know WHERE THE FUCK THE GRAVE IS beforehand so nothing like this happens again.

Were this to have happened a few months ago, I don't think this client would have come back to see me ever again. I'm very, very grateful that he was willing to give me grace and not hold this clusterfuck against me, but I still feel absolutely awful that it happened.

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r0semultiverse · 1 month

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Was Celia drunk as fuck or is this something supernatural?? 👀

Who the fuck is Jack?? 👀

Alice is such a delight, I love her!

Oof so one or both of them have trauma involving grandparents then.

I love Samama & Alice so much. 💜 They have a great dynamic!

Oh shit, right, Gwen is probably still getting over Mr. Bonzo too. 👀

"I just… I dunno. When I left the coffee shop, it felt like someone was following me."

Please don't take away Alice, she's one of my faves! I hope this post doesn't age poorly. Watch me have to quote this post very soon.

OH NO, is it that [ERROR] following her??? 😰

"Don’t joke about that, mate. I was dreaming about it all day." Okay, yeah, that's a creature.

Sam & Alice are both about to run into a creature... 👀

"Classifying unspeakable horrors all night for no discernible reason?" @/entities-of-posts & @/which-entity-this-post-serves is that you? :]

Hmm, now why is this episode called "marked?" I assumed Mr. Bonzo was gonna find his mark, but maybe Alice is marked by an entity/creature that was locked in the Magnus Institute?

"giving up the ghost" okay so someone saw an apparition? Honestly not sure what entity this episode is about so far.

It's giving The Corruption ✨🧟‍♀️⚰️ (maybe The Buried)

"It’s just that one of the graves had a body in that was too well-preserved for the age it should have been." 👀👀👀

This thing is about to jump out of the grave & run off, isn't it? 🏃‍♂️

"The back was completely covered in this complicated tattoo of a ship sailing across an open sea towards an open horizon." Peter Lukas?!?!?

Oh 100% The Buried, without a shadow of a doubt.

Lots of tattoo & carvings in walls imagery in this sequel prequel sidequel, isn't there? 👀

Hey wait, that's Ink5oul from episode 2, isn't it? 👀 Ink5oul definitely feels like a conduit or vessel for The Flesh or some other kind of entity.

Okay, there's something weird going on with this place, the salt water & waves near this cemetery are kind of seemingly enticing them to come drown in it's waters. In the very least it's messing with these guys' mental states! Pretty freakkyyyy! 👀🌊

Also the repeated emphasis on dreams is interesting this episode, wonder if that'll play a part in something later on. 👀👀

"If it’s any consolation, he’s with the sea now. The deep will care for his bones." I literally called it!!

I think Gordon Alan Johnson also wants to be with David. 👀🌊🌊

I don't know, Gordie, I think you did it! Unless Ink5oul is collecting tattoos like an alternate universe version of the Leitner books. Wait yeah, what if the tattoos are like conduits for the entities of this world or even the original one? 🖌

Another way to look at this is asking... Is The Deep a new entity/fear or is it a servant of a fear like The Vast? I stg there was a colossal water monster at some point in The Magnus Archives!

Okay so yeah, there's already a precedent for this. Also feels like The Lonely, The Buried, The Corruption, The Vast, & maybe even The Flesh are all involved in this one though I don't know if Flesh (Ink5oul) is working with or against the other fears at this time.

Gwen, you can tell your coworkers what's wrong, oh my fucking god. Please. Celia, you have me so invested in whatever is going on with you.

Weird unexplained noise at 17:44 too as Celia enters the office. Wonder what that's all about, maybe it'll come up later on.

"He is one of our Externals." Okay; so, there's more of them & they have their own secret hitman title too!

Mr. Bonzo when he was on TV

"And they usually like it." I bet fear creatures do like it when you scream. That makes a lot of sense actually.

Also what's that weird "boowomp" noise as they're talking or is it just the OST? 👀

Is Gwen going to be turned into something not quite human at some point? Just throwing darts at a board with that speculation, but wouldn't that be wild?

Okay; so, these little digitized noises are absolutely important!

I wonder how many times & when people have lied so far throughout this season. 👁️👁️

#someone should draw those two ( sam & alice ) in the style of that show at this rate. I have more questions every week i stg #is mr. bonzo gonna find his mark or is Alice dyer marked by [ERROR] place your bets!#okay so themes of coffins; decay; & rotting things; feels like the corruption or maybe even the buried #I stg if that weirdly aged guy is Peter Lukas somehow I'm gonna scream; it's an AU; anything can happen #Love seeing Ink5oul again; it's cool that they aren't just a one off character & are getting involved in the greater story #leitner tattoos canon??? maybe?? is this the equivalent of jurgen leitner books?? perhaps #the big water monster is giving The Vast energy; a lot of these feel like fear entities collaborating in this world #now I'm curious who the other externals are... is ink5oul one of them? They seemed to delight in reactions.#is this government organization called the magnus institute or what do they call themselves now? also who is mr bonzo after?#I wonder if the black ops guys that showed up to that charity place on hilltop were a counter organization or the government?#mine #op #tmagp liveblog #tmagp 11 #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #tma #tmagp #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol

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i-heart-hxh · 5 months

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hey

ik you're busy with processing all this scrapped ending stuff, but imma ask anyways. so people here and on twitter tend to say that killua and gon's relationship is codependent. how is it shown? cuz to me they're just extremely devoted to eachother, but i can't exactly see this whole codependency thing.

love your analysis btw, you're great❤️

Hi! Thank you very much for the kind words, I appreciate it! (Obviously answering this after a while, as the scrapped ending topic isn't quite as omnipresent now.)

On one hand, I do think their relationship has aspects of codependency, for reasons I'll go into below. But there's a lot going on in their relationship, and I also believe people use this term as sort of a catch-all for the various issues.

So, what is codependency?

Codependency is a dysfunctional relationship dynamic where one person assumes the role of 'the giver,' sacrificing their own needs and well-being for the sake of the other, 'the taker.' -- Psychology Today

I mean...doesn't this sound like Killua's unhealthy, self-sacrificing devotion for Gon?

Killua mostly takes on this role himself, but Gon does stoke this dynamic, assigning Killua the role of holding him back in dangerous situations and expecting him to clean up after his messes.

Killua is happy to have this role supporting Gon and takes it seriously, but as the series goes on, the burdens he deals with on Gon's behalf keep getting more and more extreme, and when Gon pushes him away even when he's doing his role (trying to keep Gon from doing something reckless and getting carried away, in the scene where Gon confronts Pitou), it breaks Killua's heart.

The issues between these two have a root cause: Both of them love each other more than they love themselves. This is the key to understanding many of the underlying issues in their relationship.

In Killua, this manifests by devotedly taking on whatever Gon wants or needs no matter what personal cost it has to him, trying desperately to be of service to him because it's the only way he knows how to express his love for him. Coming from the Zoldyck family, it makes sense acts of service are one of the only ways he believes love can be expressed meaningfully. As I said in another post, he even takes on things Gon doesn't ask him to do, and then hides how much he does for Gon and the costs it has to him, so Gon isn't even aware of how much Killua suffers on his behalf.

In Gon, this manifests by prioritizing Killua's life while recklessly disregarding his own. Remember this line?

I come back to this scene all the time because it's vital to understanding the way Gon values Killua above himself. To Gon, his life isn't worth all that much, but Killua's life is another story.

When Killua could have died if he dodged differently in the Dodgeball match, Gon loses his temper completely, to the point where he can't even answer Bisky's simple questions. I recommend reading the whole scene to see just how pissed Gon is about this, but for the sake of brevity here's the most important part:

This happens before the pivotal scene of Killua holding the ball for Gon, severely injuring his hands. There's a lot of complexity to this scene and what it means in their relationship, it honestly deserves its own post because it's difficult to summarize, but it shows us Killua being perfectly willing and happy to be gravely injured on Gon's behalf, and Gon accepting Killua's willingness to sacrifice and suffer for him. Definitely a case of codependency, if you revisit the definition above.

At the same time it's an indication of deep trust and understanding between the two: Gon knows that Killua wants to do this for him and he allows him to do this because he knows it has meaning to Killua. Killua knows that he's the only one Gon would ever entrust such a task to, and that means the world to him, even before Gon says his "It has to be Killua," line. And ultimately, even if it's a bit twisted, this act is all in service of Gon trying to avenge Killua being put at deadly risk.

When Gon is in front of Pitou and says the "This means nothing to you," line, this is intended to push Killua away, tell him it's not his fight. This battle is Gon's burden, he's willing to give up his life if it comes down to it, but Gon doesn't include Killua in his plans because, after all, Gon believes that it's okay if he dies, but not Killua. While the way Gon lashes out at Killua says more about his emotional state at the time than his intentions, his repeated pushing Killua away during his grief and rage is one of the ways he ironically shows love towards Killua--he doesn't want Killua to have to share this burden or die on his behalf, because he sees it as all his fault. Even when Killua contributed to what happened in a way (knocking Gon out in order to take him and leaving Kite behind, something Killua definitely blames himself for), Gon refuses to blame him even slightly.

But because Killua stakes his entire self-worth on how useful he can be to Gon (codependency), being pushed away by Gon and not allowed to share his burdens and his pain is just about the deepest wound Gon can inflict on Killua. It's not what Gon intends with his actions--if anything it's him trying to protect Killua in his own way--it's just the way their respective issues with self-esteem manifest, and it's unfortunate. It's why they need to split up for now, to heal and work through what happened, so they can come back together, communicate properly, and build a better dynamic the second time around.

Now, when discussing their codependency I think it's worth remembering some things: They are both young teens with issues with trauma and self-esteem, who haven't had close friendships prior to this. Many of the less healthy aspects of their friendship, like their lack of fully communicating for instance, are tendencies from the ways they were raised. They adore each other more than anything, they almost never intend to cause harm to each other, and the "roles" they take on in the relationship that end up hurting them are generally more self-imposed and coming out of their individual issues than something either of them is forcing the other to take on.

Their relationship has been transformative and deeply meaningful to both of them, and they're definitely happier together than apart. The issues between them need to be addressed and reflected on by both of them, but I truly believe this is something they'll be able to overcome ultimately.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #gon #killua #killugon #gonkillu #meta #my posts #asks #anonymous #long post #I feel like there's things I could dig into more but this is already long!

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yeonboy · 5 months

Text

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 ♡ choi beomgyu.

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with. He aches. And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish. He needs to take a step back. Or, Choi Beomgyu is head over heels in love with his best friend – and she simply doesn’t feel the same.

❧ choi beomgyu x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ best friends!au ♡ unrequited love!au ♡ angst ♡ drama.

❧ 4.7 k words

❧ warnings! profanity, an extreeeeeme amount of pining, one-sided feelings, unrequited love, jealousy, heartbreak, some self-deprication, one (1) mention of drinking and partying, one (1) mention of making out, maybe an innuendo or two! mostly just buckets full of mopey, pining gyu </3 and a hopeful (?) ending (:

❧ note! i wrote this because i was listening to m5’s whiskey and crying and thinking of gyu so take that how u will </3 please note that the lyrics are there just to set the tone, not to be taken too literally. i just love this song, man. please don’t hate me for the ending, i changed it thrice and then settled on this. it just felt perfect to me this way :”) also! pls excuse the lack of dividers, tumblr won't let me add them without hiding the post from the tags for some reason :/

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

i never knew that love was blind; till i was hers and she was never mine…

“So, I have a question for you.”

Beomgyu blinks at your words, letting the steel straw escape his lips as you pull his strawberry milkshake away from him.

In fascination, he watches the way your lips wrap around the shiny tube in the exact place where his own had been. You slurp once and pull away, leaving a tint of pink – pinker than the drink, pinker than Beomgyu’s cheeks, pinker than the love-goggles that are permanently on his eyes when he’s with you – on the edge of the straw.

“Gyu?”

He wants to wipe that pink away with his lips, so bad. But your hand comes in with a tissue to clean that precious speck of your lipstick away, before he can even blink a second time.

Now he blinks again and looks up at you. God, you’re so gorgeous with your brows all furrowed and lips all pouty. He is so thoroughly ruined by you. Why does he continue to subject himself to this torture instead of keeping his distance like a sane person?

He doesn’t fucking know.

“Y–yeah? What question?”

“A hypothetical one. Very important, nonetheless.” You stare into space with your eyes squinted, perfect cheekbones reflecting the light from the evening traffic beyond the glass walls of the cafe you’re seated in. “If long time BFFs happen to develop feelings for each other, should they confess?”

Beomgyu chokes on air, freezing like a solid block of ice.

What did you just ask?

“You know… Just imagine! Two people who have been the best of friends for ages. And then one of them realizes they’re in love with the other.” Your rounded eyes turn to him with a hint of worry in them. “Should they confess and live their dream? Or should they take this secret to their grave and protect their friendship?”

Beomgyu is a mess.

Why the actual hell are you asking him that? Him – the one guy in your entire life that doesn’t have to imagine this specific situation because he’s been living it for years, now?

Now, he’s not panicking because he thinks you might have figured him out and are trying to pave a path to confession. No, he's self-aware enough to not be deluded. And his panic kinda stems from this very fact.

He's self-aware enough to know that while he's looking at you and daydreaming of a picket fence and good-morning kisses, your mind is stuck on someone else. Choi Soobin. Older than him, taller than him, cuter than him. Guy checks all boxes of the type of guys you like so well, Beomgyu wonders if Soobin is the reason why you created those boxes in the first place.

So he's scared out of his mind that you're paving a road to confess to Soobin.

“Wow, aren’t you super helpful this evening?”

Your whine of frustration pulls him out of his spiral. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man. That’s a very subjective question.”

“Subjective?” You tilt your head in thought and Beomgyu dreads the next words you would say before you have even formed them: “Okay, let me answer it subjectively first then! Like, imagine if you had feelings for me. I wouldn't want you to confess them to me, like, ever.”

Ouch. Not that he plans to ever confess them to you, but still pretty ouch.

Slightly hurt, he drags his milkshake back to himself and slurps away the rest of it before smacking his lips and shaking his head. “Well then subjectively, it’s the complete opposite for me.”

You look at him with an extremely confused frown. “But what if I lose the friendship because you don't feel the same?”

This hypothesis is making him lose his damn mind.

“I… well, what if we lose the chance to be something much more amazing just because you were scared?”

Moment of introspection: he hopes to all the powers in the universe that he isn’t losing the chance to be something much more amazing with you just because he’s scared. You don’t like him like that, you won’t ever like him like that.

He’s being smart and self-preservative. Not scared.

You're lost in thoughts for a moment, and then you suddenly get up with a jump. Grinning at him, you lean down to peck his cheek and rush out of the cafe before he can even fully absorb the warm brush of your lips against his skin. “You're the best, Gyu, thank you so much!”

In a daze, he brings his fingertips to brush against the apple of his cheek.

Why did you run away like that? Why did you sound so excited? Fuck, are you going to confess right now?

He pulls his fingertips away.

They are pink.

yeah i was reckless, but i let it burn; i let it burn, yeah…

“And if they show up hand-in-hand, then what? Then what, huh, Tyun? It’s easy for you to say I’m overthinking, but you aren’t thinking nearly enough!”

Kang Taehyun, the university’s Student Council member who is in-charge of overseeing the set-up for tomorrow's inter-uni basketball game – and also Beomgyu’s best friend of fifteen years – rolls his eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets.

“Why do you keep setting yourself up for more pain, man? Why don't you try to invest these emotions somewhere they will be appreciated?”

“I can't just compel myself to start or stop feeling, dude…”

Shin Ryujin suddenly appears behind the bleachers that the two of them were covering with a banner, both hands planted in the back pockets of her jorts. They should look incredibly lame, but she somehow pulls them off.

Beomgyu looks at her with wide eyes, wondering how much she heard.

“Yo, dumbass! Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” She’s smirking at him but there's a sparkle in her eyes that makes him chuckle at the name.

“The name's Beomgyu.”

“That's what I said. So, are you coming?”

Beomgyu has actually been trying to think of an excuse to get out his regular movie night with you - and this sounds like the perfect one. He shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t really got any plans, so… Maybe I will.”

Taehyun gives him a weird look because he knows Beomgyu always had plans on Fridays.

Ryujin grins wide. “Perfect! Well, just two requests.”

He squints with interest. “What requests?”

“Wear my jersey! And, uh, don’t bring a date, please?”

She looks extremely bashful while saying the second part of the sentence. Which is somewhat jarring. It’s Shin fucking Ryujin, she eats men for breakfast. Why is she almost blushing?

But then Taehyun is cackling, which reminds Beomgyu of the first request she made. He immediately scowls. “Hey! I’m not wearing your jersey like some groupie!

She rolls her eyes, but her lips are quirked up because he didn’t say no to the second request. And he knows he won’t; you're the only one he ever asks to accompany him to places, and he's only going to the game tomorrow to escape you.

“Your loss. Just so you know, boys are lining up to wear my jersey…”

Scoffing, Beomgyu goes back to handing Taehyun more pins. “Yeah right.”

“What? You don’t believe me?” Ryujin scoffs. “Watch this - ayo, Heeseung! Wanna wear my jersey tomorrow?”

A screech from the Students Council’s Vice Prez is followed by a high-pitched: “For real? Yes, please, I—”

“Sike! Haha, gotcha, little bitch!”

Taehyun is doubled over in laughter and even Beomgyu can’t hold in his chuckles at the look of utter devastation on Heeseung’s face and victory on Ryujin’s. She raises an eyebrow when their gazes meet. “See?”

“How much did you pay him for this skit?”

She smacks his shoulder with an irritated whine. “You’re way too fucking cynical for no damn reason, dude. Okay, no jersey - but get a no. 17 placard for me, at least?”

Rolling his eyes, he finally nods.

“Great! See ya tomorrow, loser! Bye, Tyun!”

Taehyun waves at her as she leaves, while Beomgyu cups his hands around his mouth to yell out: “The name’s Beomgyu!”

“That’s what I said!”

“Man, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually enjoy talking to a girl.”

Offended to his very bones, Beomgyu gapes at his best friend. “Dude! I enjoy talking to girls! I’m straight! Or did you forget how I threw up that one time when you kissed me during spin-the-bottle in seventh gra—”

“Yes, I remember!” Taehyun smacks him with a scowl on his face. “But that’s not what I meant. Gyu, you only ever talk to Y/N. Or have you not realized that? And look absolutely lovesick and physically pained while doing that.”

“Nahhhh, untrue. It’s just—” He cuts himself off to purse his lips. Taehyun is one-hundred percent correct. “It’s just a little difficult to mask my emotions all the time, but I manage…”

Taehyun just shakes his head in obvious disappointment. Then he tilts his chin up towards the direction where Ryujin is laughing around with some girls from the cheer team. “She obviously likes you a lot. Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, lips forming a pout because this is so confusing. “But isn’t she basically signing up for the hurt if she’s doing this despite knowing where I stand with Y/N?

“Just…” Taehyun sighs. “Yeah, just don’t give her false hope.”

Beomgyu feels like he’s giving himself false hope every single time he talks to you, but what can be done.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You end up texting him first, that night, to cancel tomorrow’s movie night. You apparently have “plans” with a friend.

Bile rises up Beomgyu’s throat at the thought of you finally going on a date with Soobin.

He can’t get himself to directly ask if that is the case, but fuck, why won’t you tell him? He goes to sleep with a pain in his chest that night.

the feeling it was bittersweet, realizing i was in too deep…

As fate would have it, Beomgyu bumps into you at the very gates of the basketball stadium, the next evening. You look like a dream in your short skirt and varsity jacket.

He feels nauseous at the thought of discovering Soobin trailing behind you with a large drink with two straws, or something.

“Uh… these are your plans?” He says in a way of greeting.

Your eyes widen when you see him, but then you pout. “Yeah! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here? We would’ve come together!”

He immediately thinks of his promise to Ryujin and shakes his head. “Ah, actually… Shin Ryujin invited me.”

Your mouth forms an O, a lost expression crossing your face. He’s never been great at reading people, but with the way his brain gets fuzzy around you, he’s doing an even worse job right now. Because he can absolutely not tell what this look on your face means.

Right then, the girl herself arrives, a wistful smile on her face. “Thought I told you to not bring a date? And she’s wearing Chaewon’s jersey, hmph.”

“Oh! We didn't—”

You cut him off with a chuckle that somehow sounds a little strained. “Ah, I’m actually here with her sister!”

Yunjin? He didn’t know you were friends with her… But that means no Soobin, right? Which might mean that no confession happened yesterday?

“Dude, Chaewon’s our Forward and our captain. No hard feelings!” Ryujin throws up a peace sign at you, and the two girls laugh.

After you leave to look for Yunjin, Ryujin stays back, smirking at him. But there’s a distinct look in her eyes that he can, for a change, recognize. Partly because the fuzz in his brain left along with you. And partly because he sees this look in the mirror everyday.

“I don’t even stand a chance, do I?” She doesn’t sound upset, just… regretful.

Taehyun’s words come back to him. “Ryu, I—”

“Nah, it’s fine. I knew what I was getting into, Choi.” She smiles, this time, pointing at the ‘17’ placard in his hands. “I’m gonna score a basket just for this, though. Cheer loudly, ’kay?”

she was a lesson – i had to learn, i had to learn, yeah…

Beomgyu had gone to the game only for Ryujin, not for you. He literally came here to escape movie night with you.

Yet, he sits in the stadium with his eyes straying from Ryujin’s great moves as Point Guard, reaching across the court, to land on you. It’s so annoying and makes him feel so helpless, he wants to scream. But there’s something magnetic about your presence that just won’t let him exist peacefully.

Is this how love is supposed to feel? Exhausting and painful at all times?

What adds to the exhaustion and pain is the way you are seated with your eyes bright and teeth on display, Yunjin on one side and…Soobin on the other.

Though he saw it coming, Beomgyu still finds it really hard to swallow the pain that pricks at his throat at the sight of you giggling into Soobin’s side and looking at the guy with eyes full of a million stars. He tries to seek comfort in the way Soobin seems to reciprocate your happiness, but it’s really hard.

He isn’t even jealous at this point, he’s just tired. If he could stop himself from feeling so much, all the damn time, he really, really would.

The crowd suddenly cheers, drawing his attention away from you – thankfully – and back to the court. And then his eyes widen in surprise. Ryujin stands with her hands braced on her hips, gaze directly directed at him. Well – she said she would score a basket for him and she did. She lifts a hand to point at him, causing a louder cheer to roar across the stadium, and Beomgyu cannot hold back the loud chuckle that escapes him. He raises both his hands up in a double thumbs-up.

Somewhere from three rows below, Heeseung shouts out an expletive at him, but the game has resumed again so everyone around the guy asks him to shut up.

Like clockwork, Beomgyu’s gaze slowly floats back up at the stands, slowly zeroing in towards your seat – only to stop short. You’re not in your seat. And neither is Soobin.

Oh.

Now again, Beomgyu should be prepared to face this as well. But he’s once again at a loss.

Unwittingly, his brain conjures up images of you and Soobin finding a secluded, dark corner to make out in. He envisions the brightness he just saw in both of your gazes, imagines the tinkling giggles you would release, pictures the darkening of your cheeks.

And in that moment, he can’t find it in himself to be happy for you. He can’t pretend to like Soobin.

He aches to be the one you would have snuck off with; to be the one you would want to share secret kisses with.

He aches.

And in that moment, he realizes his feelings have gone too far. They have caused him to stop being a true well-wisher to you; he is being selfish.

He needs to take a step back.

i used to try to forget her…

“Dude, the one thing I asked of you was to not hurt Ryujin. What the hell do you mean you’re taking her out?”

Beomgyu pinches the bridge of his nose, almost regretting disclosing his plans to his best friend. But he needed Taehyun to be on his side to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. Although given the tone the guy is using with him right now, Beomgyu’s purpose might be failing either way.

He puts his phone on loudspeaker, extracting a jacket from his closet to match the blue t-shirt he’s wearing.

“She was awarded MVP for yesterday’s game for the first time in this season. When I congratulated her on it, she called me her lucky charm—”

“Ugh, it’s as if she wants you to hurt her,” Taehyun murmurs and Beomgyu can hear the grimace in his voice through the phone.

“So I asked her if she wanted to celebrate the win with her lucky charm, and she said yes…”

Taehyun gives a sigh. “You literally flirted with her.”

“I did. Weren’t you the one telling me I should focus my feelings where they will be reciprocated?”

“Yes, you should. But do you even feel anything?”

“I do, yeah…” Immense sadness and despair with a brush of frustration. “I feel like I’m gonna have a good time with her.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” Taehyun gives another sigh. “Just be smart, okay? Don’t lead her on, Gyu.”

“I won’t, man.”

Settling on a black denim jacket that goes with his jeans and boots of the same color, Beomgyu leaves his dorm in the half a decade old Corvette his parents have permitted him to keep on campus. He’s meeting Ryujin at the cafe, which saves him from spending time in the car with her.

When he enters the cafe, though, Beomgyu begins to wonder if he has somehow offended some higher, superior power by some action of his, for which he is now being punished on the daily.

Because before he can even begin to look around for his date, a giggling Soobin catches his eye. He’s sitting facing the door, feeding spaghetti to his date.

His date.

You.

Your back is to him, but Beomgyu can still see how you’ve styled your hair in a way that is different than usual. You’ve always complained that your hair is too silky to be held up in an updo—a remark Beomgyu can never understand because he, personally, loves the texture of your hair—and so this complicated bun feels so strange on you.

And the off-shoulder dress instead of your beloved full-sleeves. And the dangling earrings instead of your usual studs. And—

Holy fuck, this isn’t you.

This isn’t you.

Beomgyu is fully frozen in his spot now, stunned and panicked at the same time.

Soobin is on a date – with someone else.

Should he be happy or concerned?

The sweat accumulating on his palms indicates the latter.

“Gyu!”

The call snaps his attention to a corner of the cafe, where Shin Ryujin sits with a grin on her face. Pushing his lips up, he waves at her. But his eyes involuntarily swim back to Soobin once more – only this time, both the taller boy and his date, Kim Chaewon, the basketball captain, are looking at Beomgyu with matching smiles.

He doesn’t know how to respond. Or react. His smile is frozen on his lips and his hand is still up in a wave, however, so the couple take that to be his greeting and go back to talking among themselves. And Beomgyu pushes himself to finally walk towards Ryujin’s table.

“I see you already spotted what I was dying to gossip about,” Ryujin grumbles with a scowl when he settles opposite her.

Beomgyu blinks. “Uh… Soobin?”

“Who?” This time Ryujin is the one to give a clueless blink. But then her eyebrows rise. “Oh, the boy. Yeah, in a way, I guess? But Chaewon, obviously. She’s finally on a date with her crush of a whole ass year.”

What? “O–oh?”

The waiter comes over to take their orders, right then. Beomgyu asks for a club sandwich and beer, while Ryujin chooses an extra cheese loaded pizza and a virgin mojito.

“You don’t want me drunk around you, loser.” She winks at him but her smile is forced enough to make guilt unfurl in Beomgyu’s chest. “Anyways! Chaewon! She’s finally winning at life and it’s all thanks to your girl.”

Beomgyu’s heart jumps up to his throat for multiple reasons.

His girl? You? Who else could it even be.

He drily swallows. “My…?”

“She was so hard at work during yesterday’s match! Fuck knows what magical words she said to both of them but they finally stopped their cat and mouse chase for good.” A fond look enters Ryujin’s gaze as she peeks past him to look at the couple. “It was sickening, watching Chaewon pine day in and out. Kinda like it is to watch you.”

Ryujin is laughing at her own joke, but Beomgyu’s mind is stuck on the information she just imparted. “Yesterday’s match?”

“Yeah. She arrived with Yunjin, remember? They both sat with Soobin and talked about Chaewon the entire time. Then she said something to Chae during break, and boom – this scardy ass dude was finally asking Chae out at the end of the match!”

Oh, fuck. This is why you were sitting with Soobin yesterday.

You were setting him up with Chaewon.

This is probably why you have been hanging out with the guy and generally interacting so much with him recently as well.

Wait, was this why you asked him that question about having feelings for a best friend? As far as his general university knowledge goes, Chaewon and Soobin have been best friends since before college.

Oh fuck, indeed.

Beomgyu really blew things out of proportion and let his overthinking mind carry him away.

“Speaking of – when do you plan to confess, Choi?”

Beomgyu scoffs at the question. “Never.”

Ryujin looks genuinely confused at the response. “What? Why?”

“She doesn’t feel the same, Ryu. And she’s my best friend. I can’t risk it.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

That’s – an odd question. One that Beomgyu feels like should be very obvious to answer, but when he opens his mouth to do just that, he has to shut it back again. Because ‘I just know’ is going to sound as stupid out loud as it does in his head.

But then what else does he have? He thought you had feelings for someone else but that was obviously not the case.

“I… I mean isn’t it obvious? She would’ve hinted at it… said anything at all if she felt anything…”

The moment Ryujin narrows her eyes and clicks her tongue, he knows he messed up. “Like you have? You’re sitting on your hands, too, dumbass. Does she even know that you don’t go on dates?”

“I’m on a date right now.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll leave this date with a black eye.”

The waiter arrives with their food, and as Ryujin dives right in, Beomgyu takes a moment to actually think about what the girl has been saying.

You not having feelings for someone else doesn’t automatically imply that you’ve suddenly stopped viewing Beomgyu platonically. Which is why he doesn’t want to suddenly drop his plans of moving on and go back to pining over you.

He wishes for this to be a smooth transition – getting rid of his romantic feelings for you while also staying friends. But if he pays mind to what Ryujin just said, he will block this way for himself.

Because the moment he confesses, it will be a one-way street. You’ll never talk to him again and he’ll be too embarrassed to even show you his face.

Now, of course, he isn’t even considering what could happen if you actually ended up reciprocating – because he’s done enough of that for years now and he’s honestly… tired.

Loving you, as he has concluded time again, is painful and exhausting. He just wants to be happy again.

“How about you stop giving me love advice and start looking for someone new to crush on?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at Ryujin, who picks up an olive from her pizza to throw at his face with a scowl.

But then when she dissolves into giggles, sprinkling her happiness and beauty all over him, Beomgyu has to pause to wonder if she doesn’t actually need to look for someone new to crush on.

He offers to drop her off at the end of the date and Ryujin thanks him for the treat. His hands feel a little clammy when she grins at him with a tilt of her head, short hair flying up with the wind.

“Will… will I see you again?”

“Uh, yeah? You see me everyday, dumbass.” Ryujin gives a chuckle but it doesn’t sound natural.

“No, I mean – like this. On a date.”

Her shoulders deflate and her smile leaves her face. Pursing her lips, she looks at him in what could only be defined as disappointment. “This wasn’t a date, Beomgyu. And I won’t be your rebound.”

He’s not asking her to be – except, maybe he is. He doesn’t know anymore.

She seems to know more than him because she gives him another one of those wry smiles of hers and pats his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel and get out of this stupid limbo. I can be your shoulder to cry on, but not a heart to play with. Good night, loser.”

He truly feels like a loser when she walks away from his car.

but now i smile when i remember.

Beomgyu has heard people talk a great deal about ‘right person, wrong time’ or ‘wrong person, right time’, but he has never felt the gravity of it the way he does now.

You’re sitting on the bleachers with Lee Heeseung and giggling your heart away like he’s the funniest man alive. Heeseung, to his credit, is looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes that rivals the entire galaxy.

And as Beomgyu watches the scene from next to the water dispenser in a discrete corner, the bottom of his stomach feels strangely calm.

It’s been a week since he had that confrontation with Ryujin. He didn’t exactly take her advice and run to confess to you, but he certainly did drop hints. And he certainly did observe your reactions.

At the end, he ruefully finds himself exactly where he always has been – watching you offer your affections to someone else from afar.

“How long has he been keeping this in?” he asks around a scoff when Heeseung shows you some magic trick and gloats in your excited clapping.

Taehyun hums as he screws the lid of the water dispenser tight and dusts his hands off to come stand next to Beomgyu. “Fuck knows. I think he’s always smiled a little too brightly at her whenever—oh my God, did you see that? Butterfingers! I could see that card from here. Making a joke out of the best card trick in the books!”

Beomgyu laughs at his friend’s grumbles. Then he gives a sigh. “She looks happy, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she does. But I don’t really think she’s on the same page as Lee. Or even you for that matter.” Taehyun settles on the ground and Beomgyu follows his lead. “She’s enjoying her college days like a normal uni student. And maybe you should too, Gyu. Enough of this pining, enough of being in love. Don’t you want to get drunk off your ass and makeout with some ditzy freshman at a party?”

Beomgyu’s horror must show on his face because Taehyun snorts when their eyes meet.

“Okay, maybe not all of it. But… we’re young, buddy. You’ll have plenty of time to fall in love. Hopefully this time with someone who loves you more?”

Beomgyu watches the way you lean closer to Heesung to whisper something in his ear, and as the guy’s cheeks grow red in response, he frowns to himself.

“What about all those times when she seemed jealous? Or upset I wasn’t paying attention to her?”

“Dude, for real?” Taehyun punches his shoulder. “You get like that too when I’m not available at your every beck and call.”

Beomgyu slowly exhales, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up to let the sunlight wash over his face.

He really is stepping out of his delusions, this time.

You don't like him like that. You don't have feelings for him.

You and him are going to remain just friends.

He's finally ready to face the fact and move forward.

“Yo, loser! Wanna play catch?”

He’s smiling even before he has opened his eyes. Taehyun clears his throat in an exaggerated way with his eyebrows raised. “Never seen you grin that brightly in a while, my man…”

He looks around towards the source of the voice, his grin turning into laughter at the evil gleam in Ryujin’s eyes as she hurtles the basketball towards him.

Somehow managing to catch it with an enraged gasp, Beomgyu wastes no time in chasing the girl with it.

Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he notices the way you have cuddled up with Heesung and how the two of you are laughing at his antics with Ryujin.

When he briefly meets your eye, you give him a thumbs up with your grin.

And for the first time in years, he is able to smile back at you without an ounce of pain in his heart.

and i was so young till she kissed me like a whiskey… like a whiskey.

FIN.

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