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saintobio · 6 months

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blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure.

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl.

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies.

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy.

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more.

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect.

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated.

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed.

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did.

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?”

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.”

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair.

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?”

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations.

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh.

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo.

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more.

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him.

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity.

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them?

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?”

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.”

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?”

Was it really that much of a shock?

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter.

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?”

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.”

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?”

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly.

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.”

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out.

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.”

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.”

Fuck.

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so.

“Sukuna?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—”

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.”

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down.

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed.

This was going to be a big problem

Just what was he thinking?

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble”

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted.

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings.

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story.

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck.

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch.

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over.

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back.

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.”

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.”

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree.

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he?

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.”

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?”

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.”

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft.

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.”

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air.

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you.

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes.

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.”

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself.

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side.

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.”

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words.

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3, just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage.

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that?

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.”

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core.

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.”

This was it.

It was happening.

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.”

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it.

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself.

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.”

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you.

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that.

You became a little paranoid.

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him.

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business.

And you were somehow right.

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived.

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.”

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed.

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?”

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?”

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.”

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.”

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.”

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you.

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.”

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that.

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.”

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!”

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest.

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along.

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.”

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!”

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point.

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.”

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation.

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.”

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride.

You were just scared of losing him over something like this.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile.

“I love you, too.”

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along.

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs.

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all.

The mere thought of it scared you.

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna angst #jjk x reader

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freedomfireflies · 1 month

Text

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door.

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up.

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow.

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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alastorss · 3 months

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Hello! I'm not sure if you'll be interested in writing something like this, but if your requests are open (and if you're interested), would you be willing to write some fluffy stuff? An Alastor x Shy/anxious reader, perhaps?

a/n: hello!! i'd love to write some alastor comfort fics based off shy/anxious readers but for now here's some good ol' fluff for the soul ♡ (with a mentioned quieter/shy reader)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You can always tell when Alastor's smiles are forced.

It's the subtle twitch of his eye, the annoyed little glare he'll stare into empty space with, the way his jaw gets so taut you're afraid it'll snap.

Quiet and observant, you've made it your personal duty to learn Alastor inside and out without stepping on his toes—watching how he grows increasingly annoyed with every brazen sex joke beat into his head from a distance but never actually having the nerves to talk to him.

You think you can read all his little tells by now. How his antlers get a little bigger with every huff of indignation. How his mind is never in the room (he's got a lot of souls screaming in his ears, after all. You learned that, too).

You thought you knew him just by watching, but you were wrong. Dead wrong. Alastor is an enigma, truly one of the great mysteries of Hell. You were foolish to think you could understand even half of him.

He's all bared fangs and glowing eyes right now, a hand squeezing your hip and the other tracing down your face. Waltz music faintly fills the lobby of the hotel where you both stand, but it feels like a million miles away when the static from the Radio Demon is sizzling in your ears.

His smile is impossibly relaxed, not an ounce of irritation in his expression that you've gotten so used to seeing all over his face. You can't comprehend this, can't understand why he's looking at you so softly and cradling your face with so much care.

It's bad enough that he had asked you to dance with him in the first place, and that you'd squeaked out a "yes" before considering the implications of that. He knew you were shyer than the rest of your friends here—perhaps he had been suspicious of you and wanted to get a closer look.

A dreadful chill runs up your spine and you shudder pathetically, eyes screwing shut as you await whatever fate will befall you in the hands of an Overlord.

But your judgement never comes.

Instead, his thumbs gently pull at your cheeks in opposite directions. When your eyes fly back open, you're face-to-face with nothing but warmth.

"You should smile more," he tells you without his usual facade of excitement. "It's wonderful."

You just stare at each other for a long moment, both frozen in place with his hands all over your face and you limply staying in his hold.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You're certain your cheeks are hot as magma right now because of some simple flattery. Then again, you've been watching him from afar for long enough to know that he doesn't flatter just anyone.

You jerk away from him with a nervous cough, but he catches your wrist and pulls you back into his chest. As if nothing had even happened, he guides and strings you along in a waltz once more.

Annoyance, anger, sadistic joy—these are all things that come as easy as breathing to Alastor. But this is a new emotion you're witnessing, with his ears pulled back flat against his head and his eyes avoiding yours even as he dances with you.

It makes you sputter in laughter, head tilting back as you giggle at how embarrassed he seems.

"Thank you."

He softens at this, smile genuine. You'll come to know this side of him, too. You're sure of it.

You don't know why you were ever so afraid of this monster. Not when he's automatically reaching out to trace your smile with his thumb as if it's something he's always wanted to do.

(It is.)

#aroace alastor who doesn't know how to approach feeling connected to someone #🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon

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doki-doki-imagines · 5 months

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Who falls for the mistletoe trick? feat. mk1 Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Tomas, Mileena, Kuai Liang

author note: another severe case of "I'll die if I don't post them today" LOL. Hope you'll like them!

Liu Kang -He falls for it. -For real? The creator of this timeline didn't expect a mistletoe from his partner at the entrance of their shared house? -Yes, Liu Kang knew from day one that this would happen, and he waited, breath itching and hands tingling in front of the doorstep each day since December started. -You point up, a knowing smirk on your face and Liu Kang acts surprised, white eyes widening a bit before looking down at you. "What a surprise, dear one." His voice is steady, like always, but your ears twitch, a mischievous undertone you can hear thanks to the time you spent together. "You knew this would happen right?" You said now in his open arms, steps lulling you, door closing thanks to Liu Kang's graceful kick. "Maybe" He looks up smiling like a fool "Now it is time to celebrate traditions." -You are the first to get closer, your lips pressed against his soft ones, his right hand finding peace in the back of your head, pushing you closer, the other on your lower back, moving in slow circle, his fire slowly enveloping you, his tattoos hidden under the bandages glowing faintly. -Liu Kang loves Earthrealm traditions.

Johnny Cage -He doesn't fall for it, but you do for sure. -Not like you had any chance when all the ceiling is filled with mistletoes. -He welcomes you with open arms, smiling from one ear to the other knowing perfectly well that you won't avoid celebrating the tradition. -He asks for a kiss each step you make, they are fast, simple smacks. -Till, one step at a time, the back of Johnny hits the table, your body now laying on his one, not a single breath of air to separate your bodies. -His kisses trail down your neck, his moist lips leaving you warm all over, his right hand lifting one of your legs. -It's time to take the matter in a more comfortable place… -Bonus: How could you not expect Johnny to have mistletoe-themed boxers? "Since you have been so loyal to the tradition it would be bad to break them now, no kitty?" He says smirking, while you don't know if you wanna die or laugh at the situation.

Tomas Vrbada -He falls for it! Congrats, it's not easy to surprise a ninja. -Tomas knows what a mistletoe means, he remembers when he watched with his sister Christmas movies, disgust plastered on his face. -Tomas feels giddy, a warmth that envelopes him completely. -He feels like a fool, a dumb kid during Christmas, a giggle escapes his mouth "So, don't I get a kiss?" His arms are open. -'It should be the other way around' you think, but it doesn't develop further, more excited to kiss your lover. -He is so overjoyed his legs become jelly, Tomas could only dream of being so loved by someone. -A simple gesture that brought him immense joy, fingers tapping on your back, playing your skin like a piano. -"Why so happy Tomas? Did I do something funny?" You question, lips barely apart. "You just reminded me of happy memories." He replies, hands now steady on your hips, grey eyes twinkling with joy.

Mileena -She…doesn't fall for it. Not because she knows what a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling means, but because of her observation skill. -"Dear, why there is a plant on the ceiling?" Voice rasped, head bending slightly. "Well, it's a long story…" -You explain to her what it means, never looking at her in the eyes, worried she find the tradition (and you) stupid. -She smiles, 'thank god' you think, her plush lips finding yours before you can finish the explanation, making you stutter. The kiss is fast and for sure not satisfying, leaving you aching for more. -"Is this fine, dove?" her arms lay on your shoulders, keeping your bodies close, lips so close, but also so far away… "I think I'll have to show you how to do this, Empress" You finally close the distance, courage finally sparked your soul. Mileena grunts, a shiver runs down her spine thanks to her fave honorific. -You didn't exchange just one kiss that day.

Kuai Liang: -He totally did notice the mistletoe but also doesn't know the meaning behind it so he just walks by. -"Ah, mister! Stop right there" Index finger touching his chest, hidden by so many layers of clothing "It's time to pay up." one hand caresses his cheek, while the other glides in his onyx locks, smirk plastered on your face. -But…he doesn't move? His brown eyes look at you questioning. "So you don't know about the mistletoe tradition, mh baby?" "Care to explain, fireball?" His eyebrows furrow, way more focused than he needs to be. -And so you do, looking at his face getting softer and softer at each phrase, just to end up snickering, a familiar sparkle in his brown eyes. -"You really find any occasion to get a kiss from me." "Are you saying you'd rather not?" You pull away, watching him in fake annoyance, eyes glued to his to notice if he takes the bait. -He does, a kiss fierce as he is, a kiss that leaves you breathless but that you wish it to be neverending. -"Is this fine?" Kuai Liang asks, a hint of jolly in his voice. "Yeah, but I think you should do that again, you know, just to be su-" -You won't need to finish the phrase.

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tender-rosiey · 10 months

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“ETERNITY IS IN YOUR EYES LIKE YOU’RE IN MY HEART”

— the moment when gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji knew they wanted to spend their entire life with you

a/n: I will upload a bsd version of this soon! <3

GOJO SATORU: when you held him after suguru’s death while pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. vulnerability was something gojo despised, but the way it was so easy, so comforting to show it in front of you held his heart in a special type of way. you always know how he feels and you somehow always say the right thing. even if you don’t say something, your presence alone grounds him.

he feels exposed around you and it doesn’t scare him. instead, he finds himself getting lost in your embrace, his safe place, time after time. he yearns for it and he knows and accepts that his heart belonged to you from the start and till the end of time. so when he does get released out of the realm, he doesn’t notice nor question that he teleported right between your arms.

GETO SUGURU: when he found you cuddling mimiko and nanako. the three of you were fast asleep, but there is no mistaking the protective hold you have on the girls, even when you’re asleep. no wonder they look so content and safe like nothing can touch them in your arms. he still remembers how you didn’t hesitate in welcoming them to the family and as time went by, you were their joy and someone they adored, not more than he does though.

he can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face as he chuckles helplessly. he walks towards you and covers you and the girls with the blanket, but not without pressing a loving kiss to your forehead with a gentle whisper of an “I love you” and caressing your ring finger. he has to know the size after all.

NANAMI KENTO: when he came back home and found you trying to bake something for him as a surprise. you’re moving around the kitchen with such determination and concentration that you don’t notice him. so he is left to admire how you work, your delicate hands, your small smile as you think of how it will turn out, and your endearing reactions to certain things like the batter getting on your nose.

he also finds himself admiring every single part of you—till this day he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. it also brings into light just how much you work and that fact that you do it with love does it for him. it doesn’t feel forced; it’s genuine and full of tenderness. so he decides with a smile that your finger has been bare for far too long.

RYOMEN SUKUNA: when you stood up for him against the people who cursed him out even when they had every right to. he is no good man nor does he need someone—anyone—to defend him. but he didn’t feel as irritated as he thought he would. instead, he felt prideful but confused. why? he asks you later and you tell him that it just happened; you didn’t think twice before responding to them. 'it just happened' he repeats in his head.

he is a terrible guy, rough and cruel. he is someone who lives solely for his own desires and self so he is surprised when he finds his head on your lap that day and his hand is holding onto your own, not to keep you from running but to ground himself. it’s pathetic, he thinks, when he realizes that he can’t live without you anymore.

FUSHIGURO TOJI: when he was going to get a glass of water, but your sleepy form held onto him with a soft plea of ‘don’t leave’. even though the action is so simple, it tugged at his heart strings and he realized just how much of a hold you have on him. almost instantly, he got back to bed and pulled you close into his chest.

he murmured, “never leaving you, doll; that’s the last thing you gotta worry ‘bout.” he always denied having a soft spot for you, but the fact that you want him and need him as much as he does for you affected him more than any other. he thinks that being wrapped around your pretty little finger isn’t something bad like he initially thought so he is okay paying quite the sum on the ring so he can see your smile.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

do not copy or plagiarize or i will send my cat after you

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junkdrawerfics · 1 year

Text

Simple Moment

I love Jasper Hale more than most things in my life.

Summary: Just a cute, fluffy moment with Jasper and his human, the reader. Mostly Bella and Alice talking about the two of you.

Word Count: 702

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

“So that’s Jasper’s girlfriend?” Bella asks Alice as they watch a familiar looking girl stride up to said vampire. She waggles her hand in front of the blond’s face, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was stuck in. A small smile slips onto Bella’s lips as she watches him grin and murmur some greeting.

“Yep, that’s (Y/n),” Alice replies, smiling along fondly, “We met her just a year ago. She’s Jasper’s singer, like you’re Edward’s.”

Bella’s brows shoot up at this, “She’s human?” She knew that Jasper didn’t have complete control of his instincts yet, so the fact that he could be around someone whose blood is so tempting to him seems implausible. Yet there you are, pressing into his side with an adoring smile.

“Crazy huh?” Alice giggles at the gobsmacked look on her friend’s face, “Trust me, it wasn’t pretty at first. Jasper had to stay home for weeks because he couldn’t control himself at school.”

A question hangs on the tip of her tongue, but Bella keeps it to herself. It’s none of her business how they eventually came together, she imagines it might have been something similar to her and Edward’s story. Her curious eyes dart over to Jasper and the girl again. They’re settled down on the roots of a nearby tree, talking and smiling at each other. The softness of the moment strikes her. Had she ever seen the vampire look so carefree? Especially around a human?

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” The ravenette murmurs with a far away look, “She’ll be like us one day too, I’ve seen it, and they look so happy. She’s the one that helps him learn control. He’s even the one who changes her, I think. That part was still a little unclear.”

Bella looks at her with a smile, “It’s so cool that you’ve seen all of that.”

Alice shrugs but her smile betrays the pride she feels for her gift, “It has come to me over the months, not all together, you know. I’m just so happy he has someone now.”

Both look over at the couple again, fondness and genuine joy rolling off of them.

Jasper smiles slightly, eyes darting over to the pair.

“What is it?” You ask, glancing around the blonde to see his sister and the new girl staring at the two of you. A dark blush is quick to cover your face, which you hide in his shoulder.

Jasper chuckles lightly, pressing an adoring kiss to the crown of your head, “No worries, darlin’, they’re happy you’re here.”

You peak up at him with a small, teasing grin, “Really? And how do you feel, huh?”

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you, one of his oh so charming smirks pulling at the corner of his lips, “Why, it’s a pleasure to have you by my side, ma’am.”

Your teasing smile melts into a sigh and you bury your face back into his shoulder. Just his voice alone sets free a flock of butterflies in your chest. You’re probably as red as a tomato again.

“Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old,” you grumble to try and hide just how flustered his words made you feel.

“My apologies,” you can hear the grin in his voice, “...ma’am.”

You punch him in the side, knowing all too well that it won’t actually hurt him, but at least the intention is there. Jasper just chuckles again and pulls away to look at your bright face.

“I’m just teasin’ darlin’,” he hums, “You get riled up so easy.”

“You’re so mean.” You pout, scrunching your nose up at him.

The vampire only grins and leans close to press his cold lips against your forehead. Eyes fluttering closed, you take a moment to just savor the feeling. You never want it to go away. You never want him to go away.

“I love you, Jasper,” you mumble as you tuck back into his side.

He pulls you close, enveloped in your scent but so stricken with the genuine emotions rolling off you that it doesn’t even seem to bother him.

“I love you too, darlin’.” The words are soft, spoken so only you will hear him.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #x reader #reader #reader insert #twilight #twilight saga #vampire #jasper whitlock x reader #i love him

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too-deviant · 1 month

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jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile

word count: 5.3k

content: fluffff, loser!reader, happy!luke if you squint and a sprinkle of loser!luke, brief mentions of suicide but nothing heavy, we finally find out which state reader is from

notes: this is so cute i love them.

PART III — she’s gonna save me, call me ‘baby’, run her hands through my hair

Wading through a misty green lake with Luke Castellan was not on your camp bucket list — something you’d produced with a young girl called Silena who you’d met in the arts and crafts cabin — but alas, here you were; knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in whatever sludge lived at the bottom, hands searching blindly along the floor while you tried your best to keep your chin dry.

You probably wouldn’t have been there if you were any good at Volleyball — which really doesn’t make much sense with the given context.

Okay, here’s what happened. It was Saturday at camp halfblood — and while you had been there for a solid three days now, you were yet to experience the joy of the weekends. Not that you knew they were any different, not until Travis Stoll approached you after breakfast.

“Heyyyy, uh...newbie.” He chuckled, sidling up beside you while you were occupied with deciding whether your camp shirt was better tucked into your shorts or left hanging over them.

You turned to the boy with an amused smile, reminding him of your name. He snapped his fingers at you, “I knew that. I did. I just prefer newbie.”

“What’s up, Travis?”

He dropped his finger guns, rocking back and forth on his feet and looking at you sheepishly, “Well, me and a few friends were gonna chuck a ball around on the beach and we need an extra player to make it even. Now that Luke’s not an option.”

He muttered that last bit low and under his breath, not in hopes that you wouldn’t hear but in hopes that Luke wouldn’t — there was no telling how far he was from you at any given moment, but he wasn’t going to tell you that, so he just put on his charming Stoll Smile and said, “So, wanna join us?”

You didn’t have anything to do that day, and since you’d assumed you were in for another long eight hours of finding out what you were good at and failing, a friendly game of ball (which you were safe to assume was volley, per what Luke told you yesterday) seemed like a great idea.

Only it wasn’t — friendly, that is. You wandered over to the net set up on the beach with Travis at your side and a taller girl with curly blonde hair narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion, “How good are you at this?”

“Uh —“ You shrugged, shaking your head slightly, “I’ve never played. We don’t have many beaches where I’m from.”

“You don’t need a beach to play volleyball, newbie.” Connor Stoll appeared out of nowhere, grinning at you, “But it’s easy to pick up. You can be on our team.”

Their team consisted of Connor, Chris, Poppy from the Demeter cabin, Evie and Evan (twins from the Ares cabin) and now, yourself. Apparently it was a lost cause whenever the Stolls were on the same team, so Travis was on the other side of the net with the blonde girl from earlier — who’s name you’d learnt was Sabine, and who’s godly parent was Nike, which did not decrease your nerves even a little bit.

“It’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it.” Evie explained to you once she noticed your unsure eyes. “Just don’t hit the ball twice in a row, Sab’s a stickler for that rule.”

“Other than that, we’re pretty lax.” Her brother tagged on, smirking at you, “This isn’t the Olympics.”

“Tell her that.” You side eyed the blonde on the other side of the net, who was cracking her knuckles and discussing strategy with Travis and Brynn, an Athena kid with a bright blue buzzcut.

The twins let out identical chuckles, sharing a look before patting your shoulders, “You’ll be fine.”

You didn’t have time to quip that the pair of them talking at the same time was a little foreboding before the game was on, and a volleyball was heading straight for you.

To be fair to you, you lasted longer than expected. Maybe it was your battle instincts kicking in, but you hadn’t missed the ball once — sure, your defence lacked any real strategy and was more you hitting the ball in whatever direction and hoping for the best, but it was working, so why complain? You wouldn’t qualify for varsity, but at least you were one upping a Stoll brother — the same couldn’t be said for most campers, you knew that much.

You actually thought you were getting pretty good, too. Your team was up by a few points (no thanks to you, all thanks to Evan. Seriously, he was like six foot four) and Sabine was getting angry. Every now and then she’d turn and scowl at Rhea, one of her teammates, and the girl would just shrug in response before returning to her position. But then, just when you started to get confident with it, Travis got you.

Hard, too. You were paying close attention to your feet, making sure you didn’t trip over any sand when you had to move, and unfortunately didn’t notice the ball coming at you until it clipped you in the face. You went down onto your ass, both hands flying to your nose and groaning when you felt a warm trickle of blood slide through your fingers and down your hands.

“Holy shit, newbie.” Travis sped over, dropping to his knees next to his brother and hovering over you, “I am so sorry, are you okay?”

Your speech was muffled and nasally when you replied with a swift, “No, asshole!”

“Shit.” He muttered, looking between Connor and Evie, “Uh, I can take you to the infirmary if you want —“

“I’ll take her.” Evan interrupted. He was crouched somewhere behind you, looking at your teammates over the top of your head. You felt his hands flatten on your back as he pushed you up to stand, the rest of the group joining him and wincing when some blood dripped onto the sand.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to —“ You held out a hand in his direction now that you could see him, only to press it firmly back against your face when your nose simply started to gush once the pressure had been removed.

“Yes,” He nodded, “I do. Let’s go.”

You let him lead you, sending an apologetic look to the remaining teens on the sand — you were pretty sure it looked nothing like an apology since your hands were covering half of your face and there was blood seeping through your fingers, but it was the effort that counted.

You didn’t receive as many looks as you thought you would’ve on the walk to the infirmary, although you assumed demigods had gotten worse injuries than a nosebleed before, so it wasn’t exactly odd. When you got there, you stopped on the porch and tried to speak to Evan as best you could without letting any more blood spill.

“You can — you can go.” You said through your hands, “I got it from here.”

He looked a little unsure, but you nodded firmly and he turned back the way he came. It was pretty embarrassing, walking into the infirmary with a bloody nose on your third day at camp, but the Apollo kid who took care of you said it was only a matter of time before you shed first blood, and that you’d better thank the gods it was a volleyball and not a hellhound that did the damage.

They stopped the bleeding with some sort of special gauze and told you to be a little more careful before sending you on your way — which was when you found Luke.

You didn’t even see him at first, more focused on folding the gauze you’d been given into a perfect square while you stepped off the wooden porch. But then a voice muttered your name in slight shock and confusion, and you looked up to meet those baby brown eyes you couldn’t help but love.

You grinned, “JoJo.”

Luke shook his head, “What were you doing in the infirmary?” His eyes tracked all over you, assessing for any visible injuries. When he found none, he turned his questioning gaze back to your face.

You sucked in some air through your teeth, embarrassed, “I, uh, got hit in the face with a volleyball. Turns out, I’m awful at it.” You let out a weak chuckle, and Luke rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Of course. I thought baseball was your thing?”

“It is.” You nodded, “But there’s nobody out here to play with, so…” Then an idea sprung, and your face lit up so visibly that Luke took a tentative step back, “Hey, why don’t you come watch? We’re playing on the beach.”

“Oh.” The boy paused, eyes sliding to the beach and back to you, “I don’t think so…I, uh, tend to spend my weekends alone.”

“You spend your everything alone.” You pointed out with a raised pair of brows. He pursed his lips. You sighed, “Come on. You don’t have to play.”

He looked as if he was thinking about it, and your hopes were raised a little. You liked Luke, you wanted to know him better and one day consider him a friend rather than a guy you harassed every day. But you were very aware of his aversion for all things social — the comment Travis made about Luke not playing with them anymore saddened you, and it pained you to imagine Luke all alone while his brothers and friends still had fun around him. But then his face dropped, and so did yours, Luke shaking his head no.

“I just…” He shrugged, “I don’t really…”

“It’s okay.” You interrupted before he could spout out his excuse. He didn’t need one. “We can do something else.”

“Oh, I —“ Another shake of the head, “You go back to them, don’t let me ruin it.”

“You aren’t ruining anything.” You said plainly, and you thought that those four words hit Luke a lot harder than expected, because he had this pensive look on his face that didn’t fade until you spoke again, “Listen, I know baseball isn’t exactly a camp sport, but I’ve got a ball. This place has gotta have bats — I mean, if it’s got swords, it’s got bats, right? So we grab them, we go off somewhere and take turns batting. I need to stay in practice anyway, if I’m gonna make varsity.”

You sent him your shiniest smile paired with some doughy eyes, and after squinting at you for a solid ten seconds, Luke agreed to your idea with a hesitant nod. You weren’t exactly expecting him to jump up and down in joy, so you took the liberty of doing that before asking him, very enthusiastically (because if you stayed positive, maybe it would rub off on him), to go look for a bat while you grabbed your ball.

Chris caught you exiting the Hermes cabin while he was filling up his water bottle using the outdoor tap not far from the porch, asking you what you were doing with a baseball. You explained that volleyball was definitely not your thing and ignored his chuckle of agreement in favour of informing him that you would be teaching Luke how to become the next Babe Ruth. He raised a brow.

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” You replied, a little put off by his reaction. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no.” He backtracked quickly, hands raised and water sloshing around his bottle as the movement, “I just…I dunno. Luke’s been a little off recently. If I were you, I wouldn’t meddle in it.”

“Meddle?” You asked, shaking your head, “In what?”

“In his…” He puffed out his cheeks, trying to find the words, “His funk.” He shook his head then, eyes glossing over as he thought about it, “He failed his quest, he’s a little butthurt, but…he’ll get over it. Y’know?”

You didn’t know.

“I just don’t think he needs babysitting.” He firmed, looking confident in his wording now that he’d found it, “He’s just gonna talk your ear off about how much he hates his life until you’re borderline suicidal. I wouldn’t bother, personally. He's a big boy, he can get over it.”

You rolled your lips over each other, staring blankly at Chris as he sent you a polite smile and walked back to the beach. Slowly, your eyes narrowed, and your brows pulled together. But you didn't say anything, you just turned around yourself and walked to where you’d asked Luke to meet you.

He was tossing the bat between his hands when you got there, dropping it in his left when he spotted you and nodding, “Alright, where are we doing this?”

You stopped, snapped out of a stupor you didn’t even realise you were in and blinking at him. For the first time since you’d met, it seemed that he was more focused and lively than you were. It irked him a little bit, and he frowned, “Sunny?”

“Sorry.” You responded immediately, shaking your head to rid yourself of your spiralling thoughts, “I just…uh, let’s go somewhere clear. We don’t wanna hit anyone with the ball.”

Luke led you to a clearing in the woods, explaining that the wood nymphs would be able to help you if the ball got lost in the foliage, so there was no need to hold back the arm you’d been bragging about for the entire walk. You just smirked, raised the bat level, and nodded at him to serve.

Yes, you were a thousand percent better at baseball than you were at volleyball. You knew that, of course, but it was nice to be reassured. Luke wasn’t half bad either, but you were also a really good runner, so you kept having to remind him that an average level fielder wouldn’t have a chance against his bats — you just so happened to be way above average.

Plus the wood nymphs were very helpful — apparently they didn’t get to watch many demigod activities other than capture the flag so it was refreshing for them to see you two play, and to actually be able to help.

All in all, you were having a great time. Which of course meant that you were long overdue for something going wrong. Of course.

“I can’t find it.”

“What?” You asked breathlessly, staring at the tree nymph who shrugged at you plainly.

“It rolled into a pond, I think.” He sniffed indignantly, “And I am not climbing into a pond.”

“Oh, and you expect us to?”

And that, kids, is how you ended up knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in something else — with Luke Castellan right by your side.

“This is so gross.” You whispered, grimacing as your hands ran over the murky bottom. You couldn’t see anything but your own reflection when you looked in, so you were replying on touch alone to help find your ball. “I can’t believe this. My lucky ball and it falls into a pond! Not so lucky anymore, huh? Yeah, lucky my ass.”

“Hey, Sunny?” A slosh of water rippled over you and you had to straighten up to avoid the tiny waves splashing in your face. They only increased at your movements, but you were too busy glaring at Luke to notice. He pressed his mouth together, holding in a chuckle, “You’re not being very sunny right now.”

You huffed, flinging your arms out at your sides and wincing when you splashed water on yourself by doing so, “I —“ A huff, “I don’t feel very sunny, Castellan. I am wading in sludge.”

He actually had the audacity to let a tiny grin slip through, “Wow, the last name? You’re acting like me right now. It’s weird.”

“I can’t believe this.” You repeated, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “I’ve been trying to cheer you up since the day I met you and when you finally do, it’s because you’re relishing in my pain? Fuck you.”

As if he was trying to piss you off, Luke laughed. He actually laughed, exactly like he had yesterday and if you weren’t so annoyed you’d be smiling at him for it. But you were annoyed, so all you did in response was send a wave of pond water at him and drench his front.

He stopped laughing. You started laughing.

“Okay, is that how you wanna play this?” He asked, stepping closer, “Is it?”

You grinned, stepping back. The water moved when you did, and the paired struggle of your’s and Luke’s legs under the water just increased the waves that oscillated around your knees. It slid up to your thighs and threatened to wet the denim of your shorts, but you were too busy prying your foot out of whatever the hell lived at the bottom of the pond so you could escape Luke’s wrath.

You shook your head, “You don’t wanna do this.”

He nodded mockingly, “I think I do.”

Then it was on. He lunged for you, and you dived to the left in a swift attempt to get around him. Water was splashing everywhere at this point but neither of you cared — especially when Luke’s hands were mere inches from your arms, waiting for your ankle to snag on some algae and pull you back so he could push you over. You were smarter than that though, so you did a swift one-eighty, dragging your hands under the water with you as you did — the wave that accumulated from the momentum doused Luke from head to toe, his curls sticking to his forehead. He wiped them away and blew hard from his mouth before forming a weak glare in your direction.

Your jaw trembled as you held in what you knew would be some serious chortles — but it was silent. The only noise apparent was the settling of the waves now that you had both stopped moving and Luke’s heavy breathing in front of you. He shook his head, stepping forward slowly, and you braced yourself for what was about to come.

“Hey!”

You paused. You shared a look with Luke before looking confusedly at the form that had appeared suddenly between the two of you. It was a girl by the looks of it, only she was made entirely of the water the two of you were standing in. She glared between the pair of you, hands on her hips.

“I don’t appreciate all this splashing.” You felt suddenly like you were being berated by a school teacher for talking too loud during class, “Are you trying to drain my pond? Are you?”

“N—No.” You responded, shaking your head, “We were just looking for — ”

The water nymph held up your ball with a stern expression, “This? Yeah, it looked like you were.”

Her sarcasm was not lost on you, and you tried your best not to meet Luke’s eyes, knowing they would fail you the second you did. Instead you looked at the nymph before you and took the ball from her outstretched hand, “Thank you. And, um, sorry…about the splashing.”

She folded her arms, lifting her head and straightening her shoulders, “That’s okay. Now get out.”

You were both quick to exit the water, although not too quick that you made anymore of it splash onto the rocks. Once you were out, the nymph nodded in satisfaction and melted back into the pond, and you and Luke were finally able to breathe. Then, you both burst into laughter.

“Oh my gods.” You huffed, shaking your head and looking down at yourself, “Did we just get into trouble?”

“With a water nymph?” He finished, shrugging off his wet shirt and wringing it out, “Yeah. How embarrassing.”

Your mouth was suddenly very dry. You knew Luke was strong — he had to be to fight a dragon and come back alive. To be known as the Best Swordsman in Camp. To be trusted by so many campers despite his newfound, distanced demeanour. But damn.

You blew out a long puff of air, hoping your reddened cheeks could be excused as some light sunburn. You weren’t as soaked as he was, but you still wafted your damp shirt from your body in hopes that it would dry — and also to give yourself something to do that wasn’t ogling at Luke’s lean figure.

He spread his shirt out on a rock, ensuring the sun was hitting it right before lowering himself to the ground on the dry grass a few feet away. He leant back on his hands, face to the sky, and revelled in the warmth. You stayed standing, fiddling with the button on your shorts, staring at him. At the scar on his face, at the rest of them along his chest.

He cracked one eye open, glancing at you, “What?”

“I, uh.” You licked your lips, “Nothing. Nothing.” You muttered, taking a seat beside him and crossing your legs. Your gaze stuck firmly to your lap and you waited for his to return to the sky. It didn’t.

“You can ask me.” He said then, shrugging.

“What happened on your quest?” You let slip, and when he stayed silent for a second too long, you realised that maybe that wasn't the question he was giving you permission to ask. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, it’s nobody’s really. But Chris told me before that you’re in a funk and that seemed like a gross understatement but then again I’ve known you for, what, three days? He’s known you for years, so surely he’s right. But you just seem like it’s more than a funk, and I don’t know what to believe because I don’t know what happened but I also don’t want to ask because it’s none of my business and it’s also very clearly a sore subject because of what happened with Dean. Not that I think you’re gonna fly off the handle or anything, but it’s definitely a touchy subject and I can’t just go demanding all the details just because I wanna be your friend and— ”

A hand over your mouth stopped you from continuing what Luke was sure to be a very long tangent. He looked at you, half in shock, half in amusement, and huffed out a laugh, “Sunny, you need to calm down.”

You couldn’t respond, but you did nod. He removed his hand slowly and you swallowed your embarrassment. Luke sat up fully, straightening his back and clearing his throat, “Uh, okay. Have you heard of that Hercules story? With the golden apples?”

You nodded, afraid to speak in case you went off on a rant again. He nodded with you, “Yeah, well, my father sent me on that. The exact same quest…except I failed.”

That explained the scar, and the dragon story he’d mentioned very briefly yesterday. He started to go into a little more detail about his quest — and suddenly you were overcome with this…angry sort of sadness.

Hermes sent Luke on a quest that had already been done. After hearing Clarisse yap your ear off about Kleos, you understood why he’d been a little bummed. Honestly, if it were you, you wouldn’t have even gone. What’s the point in doing a quest that’s already been done? But you didn’t say that to Luke, who seemed a little deep into his story. You just simmered in your irritation while he continued to explain his battle with Ladon, and his ultimate failure.

“I refused to leave the infirmary for a week.” He chuckled, but it was a little sad. “I mean, I’m supposed to be a leader here, and I fail my first quest? Some demigod I turned out to be.”

Without even thinking, you shook your head, “You didn’t fail.” Luke looked at you, confused, “You battled a dragon with a hundred heads and lived. That doesn’t sound like failure to me.”

“But I didn’t get the apples.” He explained. “I disappointed my father.”

“Your father…” You said slowly, unsure of how your next words would land, “Who I’m going to assume had never spoken to you until the day he gave you your quest?” Luke nodded after a brief pause and you took that as permission to continue, “So who cares if he’s disappointed? He clearly doesn’t care if you’re mauled by a dragon.”

“Exactly.” Luke replied, brows pulled together in the way they had been when you’d first met. Angry, irritated. Disappointed. “Everyone keeps telling me to get over it. That demigods have failed quests before and it just means I need to try harder next time but…why should there be a next time? Really, if you sit and think about it for a second, why are we even here? To train, so we don’t die whenever monsters come and attack us? And who’s fault is that? Maybe if our parents were good people, there wouldn’t be any monsters trying to murder their kids. If they cared, even a little bit, they’d do more than just claim us and leave us to die!”

He scoffed, looking in the direction where you knew the rest of the campers resided — playing games, building weapons, dedicating every waking hour to becoming the best of the best. And for what? For glory? For a pat on the back from a parent who can’t even be bothered to raise them?

“They don’t get it.” He said then, turning back to you, “They think this is all okay. They’re too invested to realise that they’re just being used. They’re so focused on getting a shred of recognition from the gods that they don’t understand that it’s never gonna come.”

“So…” You finally spoke, your first words in a minute, “What do we do?”

Luke shrugged then, “I don’t know yet.”

It was silent for a long time after that. Luke stayed staring at the floor and you led back to stare at the sky. He was right, wasn’t he? Sure, you’d only been in this for a little while, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the gods didn’t care — you’d figured out that much when you got to camp. A dumping ground for demigods. Demigod daycare, except mommy isn’t coming to pick you up at three o’clock. Luke deserved to be angry, he deserved to mope — they all did.

But they wouldn’t. You could sit there and curse the gods for hours on end, but that was still half of you. And that, you thought, was probably the worst part of it all.

You were so caught up in your feelings that when the tree that had been shading you phased into a nymph and walked away, you jumped halfway out of your skin, “Jeezum crow.”

You looked at Luke, expecting him to either share the same dumbfounded look on his face or be laughing at you — something he seemed to be doing a lot of today — but instead he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wide eyed. You blinked, “What?”

“You’re from Vermont.”

Your mouth snapped shut, and his expanded into the grin you’d been hassling him for since you’d set your sights on him. You sighed, “Fuck.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re from Vermont! Holy shit. I should’ve known it when you called me a flatlander.” He threw his head back, and you shook yours at his dramatics. But he didn’t care, he just pointed at you, “You’re a fuckin’ woodchuck!”

“Oh my gods.” You groaned into your hands, pulling yourself to your feet in hopes of escaping his sudden glee. “Is that so bad?”

“No.” He laughed, following you, “I’m just amazed that I figured it out. I’m a genius!”

“Okay.” You sent him a blank look, but it only lasted a few seconds before your tiny smile was fighting through, “It’s not like you’ve discovered the meaning of life. Calm down.”

“Never.” He shook his head, “This is my greatest achievement.”

“You fought a dragon.”

“Screw the dragon!” He gripped your biceps, grinning at you, “You’re from Vermont!”

“You’re not funny.”

“And yet you’re laughing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

____________

“What’d you do to him?”

You threw a piece of salmon into the fire, glancing at Chris, “I’m getting deja vu. Haven’t you asked me this already?”

“Yeah, but…” The boy looked behind him, back at the Hermes table, where Luke was perched on the end and waiting patiently for you to come back from the hearth before digging into his food, “This time I mean it. I mean, he still isn’t talking to us, but he’s sitting on our side of the table again. You can be honest with me…” He sent you a grave look, “Did you give him a BJ?”

“What? No!” You threw a pea at him. “I just listened to him.” You tried to be a little serious, but clearly Chris wasn’t getting the hint, so you relented, “And doused him in pond water.”

He laughed at that, nodding proudly. You turned back to the fire, asking Aphrodite to get rid of your split ends. You’d given up on praying to your father, deciding to go through every Olympian until one of them answered. So far, only Hera had responded — you assumed so, anyway, when a cuckoo woke you up from your afternoon nap. That wasn’t very helpful, but at least it was an answer. You didn’t suspect campers prayed to her often, so she probably appreciated the sentiment.

“So…” Travis smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you sat down. He sent this look around the group, but even Connor gave him a weirded out look in response. He huffed, “It’s team day tomorrow.”

A collective ohhh seemed to hum around the group, but you were still confused. You sent a questioning look to Luke who said, “For Capture the Flag. Tomorrow is when all the cabin counsellors gang up and decide on the two teams.”

“Then we have five days to strategise.” Travis continued on very dramatically, hands splayed on the table, “And on Friday…we battle.”

That seemed to lift the energy up a bit, the people around you sharing mischievous looks. They started to discuss amongst them who would be the best cabin to ally with, Lana turning to Chris, “Who are you gonna pick?”

Chris went to speak, but paused. He seemed to think about something, looking slightly scared but still turning to the boy across from him anyway, “I thought maybe…Luke would like to reinstate himself as team captain this month.”

Right, you’d completely forgotten. During your spear lessons with Clarisse, you’d asked her why it was so important that you be amazing at fighting quickly if monsters couldn’t get into camp. She’d then explained the whole situation that was Capture the Flag — how it was a bigger deal than the super bowl around here — before briefly mentioning that Luke had always been Hermes team captain, but stepped down for the last game because his scar was still healing from his quest. Chris had taken over for him, and based off of the looks the people around you were sporting, you assumed they weren’t expecting him to give up his title so quickly.

You couldn’t blame them. Luke hadn’t exactly expressed much desire to captain this time — he hasn’t expressed much desire for anything these days apparently. You were all waiting for him to let Chris down easy, but instead he looked up from his plate with an indifferent nod and said, “Yeah, sure.”

Nobody said anything. Except Chris who, when Luke stood to rack up his empty plate, looked at you gravely and asked, “Was it a handjob?”

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @woodlandwrites @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @tsireyasgf (just ask to be removed/added!)

#sunny!verse #@lia’s works #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #i am a hoe for loser!luke #i also know nothing about baseball #hence the very brief baseball scene #its just like rounders im pretty sure #but im not too confident on that #also reader maybe gets claimed in the next part #wink wink

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kivino · 5 months

Text

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

Text

An Affectionate Embrace

Masterlist Here

Characters: Buggy, Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Beckman (Art found on Pinterest)

Word Count: 650-900 per gentleman.

Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?

Notes: Since completing the "Kiss Their Cheek" for both the monster and supernova trios, I had to get a little kiss on the sea-dilfs. Considering they’re a little older and more experienced (and less easy to fluster), there’s a little more depth to their reactions.

Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, lil bit angsty, small bit of fear, bittersweet emotions.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Buggy

“Captain, you’re back!” you cried with glee, eagerly rising to your feet alongside the devoted crew. Each member rushed over to greet him, cheers and enthusiastic cries of joy sprang forth from the lips and throats of your comrades in arms.

Buggy D Clown had been away for a while, wandering throughout the seas and attempting to get back to his loyal and faithful crew. You had been searching for him for weeks, and finally at the umpteenth hour, his heavy boots found the deck of the Big Top once again.

As the first member of the crew to reach him, you flung yourself into his arms and littered his face in a flurry of rapid kisses. You adored your captain. All of the crew did. Considering the massive swell and release of emotions, you could barely contain your incessant need to wrap yourself around him and continue laying into him with peppered pecks atop his cheeks, chin, forehead and stubbled jaw.

The rest of the crew joined you in your embrace, each member attempting to get as close as they could to kiss, claw, bow and nuzzle against the captain. Giggling along with them in cheer, you felt Buggy’s expression change from joy and pride into a deep and heavy frown.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Buggy’s low tone attempted to break the crew away from their embrace. None could hear his direction over their own desire to worship their captain with their lips, arms and knees. Kneeling before him and reaching up their grabby hands, uttering “we missed you,” and “we love you, captain,” repetitively, Buggy’s body began to vibrate as his rage ignited.

“That’s enough,” he tried again, the crew not responding to his commands and continuing to mumble, babble and cry for him. You hastily withdrew yourself from his arms, adjusting your clothes and turning to your crew.

“Oi, you lot! Captain said it’s enough!” you called, booming your voice to halt the crew of their incessant repetition. “Hoist the colors, unsheath the sails, weigh anchor: prepare to make waves!”

“Aye,” the crew responded, hastily snapping out of their prior hypnosis and scrambling to follow your commands. Although you were not the first-mate, you were excellent at barking orders to the unruly crew. Turning to glance at the blushed, painted face of your captain, you smiled up and him and clapped a supportive hand over his shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back, sir,” you confessed briefly, turning away to begin your duties to set sail, “Do we have a heading, Sir- Mmfmph!” Buggy’s index finger and thumb collected your chin, hoisting you closer to him as he drew his face closer to meet with yours.

Closing the gap, your captain’s lips collided with your own, his red paint smeared over your lips and cheeks as he pressed a heavy and intentional kisses against your mouth. His hand withdrew from your chin, raking his gloved hand through your hair to draw you into himself.

“S-Sorry, Doll,” he stuttered upon his withdrawal, “It’s been a little while, and I missed you too.” Your eyes held a momentary confusion, your head shaking with a broad rise in your smile.

“You gonna kiss all the crew, Captain?” you laughed joyfully and in good humor, “Am I the lucky number one to receive a kiss from you? You want me to line them up for you, Sir?”

Where you expected to find a loud outrageous cackle at your joke, akin to one that you were always greeted with when you verbally played with your captain, what you found in it’s wake was something different. Buggy’s hands sought out your hips, drawing you closer and pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

“No,” he whispered in a voice so silent you could barely hear it, “Just you.” Reactionary, you wrapped your arms around his neck and soothed over his hair and shoulders with several soothing touches. You felt his anxiety release and his tension depart from him with a shaken movement on his shoulders. The longer he remained nuzzled against you, the more he realized he never wanted to be apart from you again.

Mihawk

The cool steel of metal clashed together, a cross-shaped window crafted between your blades as you bore your eyes into his honey-hue. Mihawk had been training you in the art of the sword, desperate for you to be a well-rounded fighter. You were no swordsperson, only minimal prior skill with a blade meant for single combat.

But Mihawk, the owner of castle Kuraigana and your superior, was a determined teacher.

“This maneuver is called ‘the talking window’,” he informed you, clicking the blade against the sharpened edge of your sword. You nodded as he continued to educate you, “This is where many a swordsman may converse, or threaten their opponent with verbal intimidation.”

Humming in response, he tested the grip on your steel with a firm shove: breaking you from contact against his blade. He lunged forward with his training sword, thrusting it out and prompting you to parry the blow.

“Try again, and see if you can disarm me with a threat while in there,” his authoritative tone almost caught you off guard. “Think on your feet. I’ll grant you a single moment there to test your words. Your job is to have me stumble enough verbally to lose my momentum in combat.”

Picking up your stance, you tapped your sword against his while you allowed your mind to produce witty and original retort. Kicking up your feet and swirling in place, your blade's edge was once again drawn against Mihawk’s as he awaited your verbal disarm.

But there was something about the way he was looking at you. His eyes held encouragement with his usual abrasiveness, a combination you were yet to find in its equal. The hue of amber decorated his honey-irises with the soft swell of the uncharted and unfamiliar. Disarmed yourself by the emergence of new emotions, your body moved against your will and pressed through the window of crossed-blades.

You sprung forward, your lips immediately finding purchase against his whiskered cheek. This small act of pure instinct stunned Mihawk in his stance, his fingers loosening around the hilt of his blade and softening against your sword.

Considering the hastiness of your own actions, you withdrew as quickly as your lips found his cheek. Your own cheeks flooded with warmth, your lips tingling with the lingering glow of the kiss, as you slunk back in your stance. After a few rapid blinks, Mihawk thrust his blade against your own, easily circling his wrist to rid your grasp over the hilt of your sword and dropping it to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-,” you began, halted by Mihawk casting his own blade down beside yours and lunging forward. He closed the distance, his hands grasping at your hips and drawing your body flush against his own. Pelvises touching, lips within distance, he circled his chin as a snake would mesmerize their unwitting and unsuspecting prey.

“-If you’re going to disarm me with something as bold as a kiss,” Mihawk purred down at you, his gaze holding you hostage under its sultry hypnotism, “Then at least do it properly, for both our sakes.”

“For both our-?” your words halted in your throat as your lips became eclipsed under the soft touch of Dracule Mihawk’s lips against your own. Your eyes widened, his lips opening and molding against yours to find a kiss as deep enough - as passionate enough - to grant you the insight to all of his pent up emotions.

Brows furrowed and hands roaming, he cradled your form against himself, succumbing to the feeling of bliss against your lips as each moment flooded into the next. Finally allowing himself the luxury of opening himself up to this genre of touch, he would never let you go. You were his, and he was yours.

Crocodile

“I have set out three towels, lotions and soaps, alongside an assortment of your usual clothes should you desire them over your current ensemble,” you nodded, gesturing to the broad chest, arms and legs of the once respectable Sir Crocodile.

His hair was greasy, his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders carried a foreign weight you had not expected to find anchoring your former boss to the floor. As Sir Crocodile’s personal assistant, you were privy to witnessing every state he found himself in. All aside from this one.

He was defeated. His spirit was broken alongside the reflective gold of his left hook. The object was littered in scratches and scuff marks, his body fairing not so different under the longevity he served in Impel Down. His eyes followed your gesture, glaring at the assortment of clothes atop the vanity cabinet before floating his eyes up to meet with his reflection within the broad mirror.

Although he was yet to utter a single word to you, his silence depicted the raw emotions swelling within the heart, spirit and soul of Sir Crocodile.

He was not who he once was.

A man broken, clawing and desperate to be freed from the confines of a torturous prison - to battle and grind through the smog of battle to once again be shepherded into your awaiting embrace. His employee, his confidant, his friend - his love. A love he was yet to express due to the nature of your occupation.

He focussed on his sinking eyes, not recognising the figure glancing back at him. His body was marked with the white and black stripes of imprisonment, his mind laying heavily on the way his body was weakened under the sea stone walls, floors and shackles. He couldn’t find his former self amongst the remains of the man he saw in the silvery reflection. Each crease of his crows feet, each silvered hair on his head, each purple circle beneath his eye was a stranger glaring back at him.

“If I may, Sir,” you began, stepping forward and hovering your hands over his shoulders in the reflection. Deciding against your better judgment, you placed your hands firmly upon his shoulders, soothing over the flesh with your thumbs. You felt him sigh into your touch, but not conform, nor fully embrace, your affectionate touch.

“You are strong,” you uttered into his ear, watching his eyes for any indication of discomfort or apprehension. Finding none in its wake, you continued uttering assurances while you caressed his flesh. He sighed into your touch, leaning into each ministration your hands provided him above his prison uniform.

“You have carved your destiny out by tooth and nail, Sir,” you assured him, paying attention to the scruff of his neck: circling your hands to relieve the stress and tension from his rapidly troubled mind, “You are the man you have always been, Sir Crocodile.”

“And who am I, Rouhi?” he whispered through his exhale, lulling his head back to lean into your palms. His eyes were shut, his forehead plagued by the trials he endured at the violent hands of the marines.

You couldn’t help yourself, your heartstrings tugging and pulling you down to press your lips against his cheek. The silvery scar cutting his eyes away from his nose,jaw and lips feeling rough beneath your lips. You allowed yourself a moment to hold him beneath your lips, feeling the tension rapidly leave him the longer you pressed this affectionate expression against his skin.

“You are Sir Crocodile,” you whispered after tearing your lips away from his cheek, “You are an influential threat that can have the world fall to their knees under your power.” Glancing into his eyes, you saw the world within their purple hue. His eyes swelled beneath their heavy torment, searching your own for more than your words had spoken.

“Is that all I am?” he whispered, his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he looked up at you, “Am I nothing more?”

“You are everything to me, Sir,” you confessed, your heart feeling lighter while the adrenaline pumped to flush your cheeks with a darkening heat, “You can take from that confession what you truly desire to make from it. For now: your clothes have been pressed, your towels have been fluffed, and your home has been made ready to receive you-.”

Lips found yours, his affectionate and apprehensive touch hungrily calling for you with each passing moment. He held his lips against you as if it was the only tether holding his form to this earth, his anchor within the harbor of an unknown land of unrestrained affection. Right hand lacing into your hair, his whimpered groan departed his lips and cried lowly into your own.

He was anew. The broken man he once was no longer found purchase within his chest. Whichever destiny he carved for himself, he would have you by his side to hold him accountable and support him in claiming his fate.

Shanks

The air was light, the jovial melodies thrust into the air at the hands of skilled minstrels. You had been dancing all night with your crew, the momentum finally catching up with you as you all found your seats for a momentary reprieve.

A laugh fled your throat as you twirled your body once more as the music decrecendoed. Applauding the talent produced at the hands and lips of the musicians, you turned to face your crew: their bodies claiming each of the empty surfaces deemed appropriate for the body to recline against. No stool, chair, sofa nor benchtop remained unoccupied as the crew found their reprieve from lengthy dancing.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, love?” your captain chuckled at you, prompting a rise in laughter among the remainder of the crew, including yourself. “I’m far more comfortable than the chairs around here, anyway.”

“How considerate of you, Captain,” you feigned your appreciation, holding your hand to your heart and drawing out each intentional step towards his lap, “Will you wrap your arms-... -pardon, sir. Arm around me as I take my rightful place atop your mighty throne?”

Always playful and light were the interactions you had with your captain. No matter the years that passed in your longevity in servitude aboard the Red-Force, the playful rapport between Shanks and yourself was something ever present.

“I will put my arm wherever you like, love,” he chuckled, his hazelnut eyes beckoning you in as you drew yourself ever closer, “I’ll keep you safe, so long as you feed me my ale and tell me I’m pretty.”

“So pretty, sir,” you laughed down at him, sinking atop his knee while caressing your hand over his cheek, “The prettiest man that ever did live.” As you cooed into his face, you leant down and pressed a lengthy and extravagant kiss atop his cheek, feigning enthusiasm with a vocal moan while smiling.

The crew burst into a large, communal laugh that resonated within the chest of your captain. The teetered chuckles died down as the men found their drinks, your hand clasping around the hilt of Shanks’ ale and elevating it to his lips.

His eyes never left you for a single moment.

Feeling small beneath his gaze, you placed his tankard down against the table and turned to face him with your brows knit into a gruff frown.

“What, Captain?” you asked him, the anxiety elevating in your chest for each moment that continued to pass between you.

“You missed, love,” he chuckled darkly. You were puzzled, searching for a moment in your servitude that you ever missed a single target - falling short in your memories. Before you had an opportunity to ask him a follow up question, you were silenced by Shanks’ right index finger raking along your jaw and collecting your chin within the hooked digit.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his smirk carried his dangerously playful tone, “Make sure you hit the right target.” He allowed himself to dwell in that moment of teasing, feeling you slink back atop his lap while his eyes held nothing but unbridled affirmation within their hue.

“Now give us a proper kiss, love,” he uttered before dragging your head towards him, his lips meeting your own. The room uproared into a momentary chaos: cheers, hollers and whistles rose amongst the crew the longer you held your lips against Shanks’. He chuckled against your lips, turning his head and humming against your opening mouth.

“There ‘ya go,” Shanks laughed after pulling away, “Lead with that next time, love. Makes it all less confusing for the lot of us.”

But you were left more confused than the moment you kissed his cheek. Did he like you? Did he want more? Did you want more? You would need to discuss this when the both of you find yourselves in an air of sobriety, that was for certain.

Beckman

The storm scattered your face with a flurry of ice-splinters of frozen rain.The Red-Force was stampeding throughout the waves to find refuge in the eye of the storm, your task was to release the sails to have the natural wind pull you toward the calming center of the flurry.

On the last knot set to release the canvas, the sail snagged on the rope against the top-mast: prompting you to sprint towards the ropes to clamber up amongst the havoc. Your feet caught in the ropes, your heart springing to your throat as you readjusted yourself and stabilized your body within your climb.

“Careful up there!” the barked call of the first mate of the Red-Haired crew called to you over the wild and unruly wind. You could barely make out his words, let alone formulate an answer over the swell of rainfall.

Anchoring yourself amongst the ropes, you began desperately tugging at the knot to loosen. Your eyes became misted by the rapid downpour of water, your hands and fingers desperately clawing at the joint fibers of the rope to loosen. As you finally released the last loop of rope amongst the canvas, your feet slipped and your fingers barely brushed with the ropes to hold yourself steady before you began to fall.

The air was cool, the clouds above shepherded you into the lull of calm before you deduced your body would meet firmly against the deck and break your neck on impact. There was no way you would survive such a drop: no Devil-Fruit abilities to caress your fall, nor Haki present to catch you on impact.

Little did you know, the moment Benn Beckman barked his orders: he ensured his body was intentionally beneath yours to collect you in his arms should you fall. Although first mate to captain Shanks of the Red-Hair pirates, you were special to him. He needed to ensure your safety, regardless of his own orders to remain at his post.

As you fell through the air and readied your soul to flee from your body to welcome death with a warm embrace, the only embrace you felt was a warm chest, two steady and firm arms, and an angry reprimand falling from the lips of the gray-haired first mate.

“I told you to be careful!” he barked at you, his eyes wild and frantic as his brow deepened in a low frown. Your breath hitched in your throat, watching as his passionate scolding ignited behind his eyes. “You need to be careful, to be wise. I don’t care what Shanks told you to do, nor how stupid a command it is. You need to be more careful. Hitch a rope around your belt or somethin’, or between each loop to stop you from falling. I can’t lose you to something so stupid as a storm.”

You could barely comprehend his words, each syllable sounding heavenly against your ears as you appreciated each breath you were granted. You expected to die there, to fall from the ropes and have your neck snap upon impact against the deck - littering your skin with splinters from the wood and choirs serenading you into the life thereafter. In its stead, you were met with a grumpy bark and a cool reprimand that had your heart swelling and eyes misting with the rise of emotions.

Without thinking, you lunged forwards in his arms, your lips making contact against his stubbled cheek. You whimpered against his flesh, arms hooking over his neck and brows upturning in appreciation for his care for you. Your emotions spilled over: thanking whichever deity that was watching over you for the opportunity to live to not only serve this crew, but to feel the touch of Benn Beckman beneath your lips while your body remained chaperoned and cradled within his broad arms.

At a small sob escaping from your lips, Beckman’s heart softened. He cradled you against himself further, huffing out a small laugh and allowing you to remain in his arms a moment longer. He had desired this touch from you for some time, but refused to act on it due to your proximity and place amongst the crew should the relationship sour.

“A-Alright, Darlin’. Easy now,” he chuckled, feeling the small quake in your shoulders at the adjustment of your near demise, “Don’t let me get a big head.”

“You just saved my life, Benn Beckman,” you reiterated, tearing yourself away from him to stare up into his silvery eyes, “A kiss on the cheek is hardly a just reward for such a feat.” Holding his eyes against yours, the rain began to settle as the clouds departed in the eye of the storm. The sun's rays flittered down and cascaded over your bodies, the storm finally finding solace and breaking its tyrannical attack against the Red-Force.

After the storm settled, the soothing swell of waves held you in a momentary calm as your head reclined against Benn Beckman’s broad shoulder. Sitting on the damp deck, with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Beckman’s lips found your forehead as your eyes grew heavy with want and soothed within the proximity against your valiant savior.

You could not stop staring at him: this burly man with the grumpy twinkle in his eye. You would offer him the world should he ask it of you, grant him every desire his heart would swell for. You had no idea that the desire itself was you until he made that fact abundantly clear upon your wake in the morning.

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brittle-doughie · 3 months

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Y/N Cookie watching as the Fallen Heroes become corrupted: “I am very uncomfortable with the energy that we’ve created in the studio today”

*proceeds to help in their capture*

You had just finished going over the acts of compassion and benevolence you’ve done for your cookies. You patiently looked on towards your fellow Primordials, curious as to what they’ve done for their cookies! Surely they’ll be just as heartwarming and kind as yours-

Red Spice laughed as he went on about a recent village he reveled in turning into a burning landscape, taking much joy in watching these feeble cookies run for their lives! They couldn’t give him the joy YOU brought him in a fight though!

Silent Salt spoke few words, but you deduced what they said to be a case of Silent Salt cutting down any cookie in their way, no doubt with ease and with little difficulty. A sigh from them told you it left them pretty unsatisfied that it ended so fast, they bet YOU would’ve lasted longer then they did…

Mystic Flour nonchalantly chipped in that she leveled an entire forest area with just a simple hand motion, nothing remained. She can’t remember if cookies were in the area or not when she did that, but she can’t really do anything about it now. They’re probably reduced to nothing by now…but if YOU were there with her, she probably would’ve taken them into consideration..

Eternal Sugar yawned as she floated on her cloud. A bunch of these little cookies couldn’t stopped bothering her with their smiles and gifts, it was even her scheduled nap time too. So she may have kinda torn them apart with her power, a shame since she was pretty comfortable laying down and these annoying little biscuits had to come along. Besides, nothing they could’ve done would’ve made her happier then getting to see YOU and your cute face~

Shadow Milk chuckled maniacally to himself, he had his audience captivated and turning against each other in no time! It was such FUN to see them fighting and destroying themselves, it was so EASY to do too! But it would’ve been more fun if he had his guest of honor, YOU, with him…

They then turned to you, expecting you to compliment them on their feats. Could they have headpats too as their reward? They were always fans of those~

Nothing but absolute silence on your end.

You helped your Creators out and did not look back!

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onsomenewsht · 2 months

Text

now playing: Don't Tell My Mom

< track 3 || track 5 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past), María León x Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)

》 words count: +1.5k

》 what you don't know won't hurt you, oh / Mama, I'll lie, just for you

As soon as your phone lights up with a Facetime call, you know.

No warning message, no text just to make sure you’re free to talk. A cold Facetime request from María, one of your best friends but definitely someone who means trouble if calling like that.

Launching yourself on your sofa unceremoniously, you accept the call and your fate as Mapi’s grin appears on your broken screen. How can she be so smug even miles away goes beyond you.

“Who died?”

Not the most warm way to start a conversation.

“Hola a ti también, nena” (Hello to you too)

“You look awful”

She looks amazing, she’s practically glowing and you’re happy for her.

Also, you’re happy for yourself too. It’s a relief this is not the scolding call you’ve been waiting for quite some time. It’s coming, you can feel it, but Ingrid enters the frame and you immediately know this is good news.

“Tienes que ser buena conmigo” (You should be nicer to me)

Mapi really isn’t the type to tiptoe around something so you don’t get why she didn’t start this conversation by screaming the news. Or making the journey and knocking on your door directly.

You let her be, she probably wants to enjoy it.

“Why should I? I moved to another country just to avoid it”

“Nena”, she pauses and her smile dims for a moment.

She knows English better than she lets everyone believe, so she gets the quip - or your attempt to joke about it. You’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or something else entirely, the two of you have yet to talk about the reason why you’re single and in another country.

Your transfer was eventful, to say at least. The faded blonde didn’t handle it very well, having taken you under her wing when you first moved from a mid-table club in your home country to Barcelona Femení - after a couple of years on a loan in different leagues too.

María’s the one who welcomed you in the locker room with rapid words and contagious enthusiasm. She kept talking with you in Spanish, even if you needed an entire year to be able to hold a simple conversation in your third language, but she’s someone you relied on since the very beginning.

María’s also the first one to realise something was growing between you and Alexia, the first - and the loudest - to cheer when you mindlessly kissed in front of the team mid night out, the first one to give you both a shovel talk.

Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget how many people you can hurt with a decision that’s just your own to make.

You feel the need to take the conversation back on track.

“When is the wedding?”

“¿Quién te lo dijo?!” (Who told you?!)

“Your stupid face”, thankfully the Spaniard gets her brightness back at your words, “And I can see that huge rock even from here!”

Ingrid is matching a beaming smile, moving her hand closer to the camera and you can’t hold back your own joy. They truly deserve the devotion and support they share with one another. If you have to be happy for someone else’s love, you’re glad it’s for them.

And that ring is impressive.

The memory of a beautiful ring hidden in a shoe box in the back of a closet makes you shiver. Is it still there or she got rid of it as first thing after dropping you off at the airport? Does Mapi know about it?

“Show off, that’s worth my value”

“Tonterías!, no eres tan buena” (Bullshit, you’re not even that good!)

“You are, she’s just too proud to admit it”, at Ingrid’s first words you immediately remember why lately she’s the one you like the most of the two.

“Haz la maleta y no quiero excusas, volverás aquí” (Pack you beg and no excuses, you’re coming back here)

Mapi’s witty remark is not missed, she saw you growing up and developing your very own unhealthy coping mechanism. Maybe you have a tendency to avoid confrontation, what about that? She goes for any adrenalin rush activity available when in denial so she’s not in the position to judge.

You shift uncomfortably under their gazes, sitting upright but hitting the back of the sofa with your head.

You may be in a different country and there may be a screen between you and the pair, but María is still like a big sister to you and the other girl is basically the only reason you’re still sane and survived throughout your friendship with the Spaniard.

However, you can’t let them know how broken you are, not when you regret nothing that led to this.

“Why not Norway?”, worth a shot.

“We’re basically going to celebrate in any corner of the world, I don’t think you can miss this”

“Then I can be anywhere else, Ingrid”

“Mapi’s family is gonna be here”, and you’re her family too it’s what she’s too considerate to say aloud but you all hear anyway.

“I don’t think is a good idea, no one want me there”

“That’s not true”

“Nena, por favor!”

The silence is deafening, when you find the gut to look at your friends it’s easy to remember the love, the support, and respect that bond your relationships.

A transfer to another country, all the attempts to hide from the consequences of your own choices, the hearts broken. None of those things are really able to cut those kinds of connections.

“I’m happy for you two”, you say with the biggest and most sincere smile in a while.

Mapi accepts your decision to keep the conversation light, focusing on this happy and long awaited news.

She’s glowing and you really are happy for her, for them. The desire to celebrate their love, to be there when they will share such pure joy with all the people they care about, sweeps away your fears of being confronted by the human form of the consequences of your own choices.

When the call ends, the usual weight you feel between your ribs doesn’t make your breathing heavier and the familiar bitter taste of guilt doesn’t pervade your mouth.

You book a ticket to Barcelona before it all comes back to you.

“Mapi and Ingrid are getting married”

“It’s a plague!”

Leah is unlacing her boots, the two of you the last ones in the changing room after an additional training session the blonde insisted you needed.

You’re playing in a slightly different position here, but you feel like those extra hours are more for her sake than your own, scared that you will find a way to avoid your new teammates if not involved in any possible activity.

You indulge her, you’re used to demanding and perfectionist captains after all.

“I have to go back to Barcelona”

“I bet, she’s gonna drag you there personally otherwise”

“María is not that―”

“I’m talking about Engen”, she smirks and she is right, Ingrid is way more effective in her convincing methods.

Still sitting on the bench in your training gear, you let her understand you’re not ready to leave yet. Not the room nor the conversation.

“What’s the problem, trotter?”

She managed to give you the worst nickname possible, making fun both of your way to run on the pitch and the fact you spent the past ten years in five different countries - it’s probably also a quip about the circumstances that bring you here but you give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No problem at all, I’m happy for them”

“They’re really cute”

“They are”, you miss them.

You miss the familiar embrace and the easy banter you share with María, you miss the warm support and the nights out with Ingrid, you miss the silence and the comforting methods Keira always found to take your homesickness away, you miss the funny and the cheerful attitude you wrap yourself around with Jana, Claudia and Ona. You miss them all.

You miss Alexia.

You miss how she always finds time to walk her dog out, doesn’t matter the weather or her busy schedule. You miss the subtle way she turns the radio’ volume up when a song she knows you like is on, and the not-so-subtle way she pretends to hate them all just to sing with you on the first chorus. You miss her body fitting perfectly all over your life, when moving in your house like it’s built around her, or when she’s ideally positioned on the pitch to receive your pass, or even when her hands find yours despite everything and everywhere you are.

You miss Alexia but you don’t deserve to grieve something you killed yourself.

“Do you need a pep talk from Kim?”

“Don’t you dare!”

Last time Leah called on your team captain to put up with your somber mood, you ended on the bench for two games yet sent her a nice bouquet as an apology - and as a thanks for the help.

“Look, you can’t hide from her forever”

“I can definitely try”

The smile she directs to you is both amused and bushed.

“I just don’t think our closest friend’s wedding is the best occasion to meet her for the first time after… well, after everything”, you admit while repeatedly hitting the changing room’s wall with the back of your head.

“Maybe not, maybe we will have to face them in the next Champion League’s draw”

She jinxed it.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #ap11 #leah williamson x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen #here we go again #my wo(rd)so #dont know how to fell about this #let me know if you hate or love me #as always #please forgive my english and my spanish #Spotify

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songbirdseung · 1 month

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hearing you sing and or dance for the first time / en- maknae line

synopsis: their non showbiz girlfriend is caught singing and or dancing alone, performing relatively good. they start to question how you could be so talented but be so secretly about it.

SUNOO 김 선우~

as the sun streamed through the windows of the cozy apartment, sunoo grabbed his keys and headed out the door, his mind focused on the task at hand. he had to pick up some documents from the company before they closed, and he didn't want to waste any time. little did he know, his return would be met with a delightful surprise.

upon his return, sunoo stepped into the living room, expecting to find you engrossed in a book or perhaps preparing a snack. however, the room was empty, save for the faint sound of music drifting from your bedroom. curiosity piqued, sunoo followed the melodic strains, drawn like a magnet to your door.

as he pushed it open, he was greeted by a sight that took his breath away. there you were, standing in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your eyes closed in concentration as you sang along to one of enhypen's songs. the room seemed to shimmer with the magic of your voice, and sunoo found himself utterly captivated.

for a moment, he simply stood there, unable to tear his gaze away from you. it was as if time had stood still, the world fading away until there was only the two of you and the music that filled the air.

finally, you must have sensed his presence because you stopped singing, your eyes flying open in surprise. sunoo smiled, his heart swelling with admiration for the beauty of the moment.

"that was incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe. "i had no idea you could sing like that."

you blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips as you tried to downplay your talent. but sunoo wouldn't hear of it. he launched into a long and heartfelt compliment, his words tumbling out in a rush as he poured out his admiration for your voice and your talent.

"you have such a beautiful voice," he exclaimed, his eyes shining with sincerity. "i could listen to you sing all day and never get tired of it. you brought that song to life in a way i've never heard before. it was like… like magic."

his words washed over you like a warm embrace, filling you with a sense of joy and contentment unlike anything you had ever known. it was a moment of pure connection, a shared appreciation for something beautiful and fleeting.

and as sunoo continued to lavish you with praise, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest, your heart swelling with happiness at the knowledge that you had touched him in such a profound way. it was a moment you knew you would treasure forever, a memory to hold close to your heart long after the music had faded away.

as sunoo continued to praise your singing, you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by all the attention. you tried to laugh it off, saying, "oh, come on, it's not that great. i was just having some fun."

but sunoo was having none of it. "no, really," he insisted. "you have a gift. you should consider auditioning for a talent show or something."

you chuckled, shaking your head. "i don't think i'm ready for that kind of spotlight."

just then, the sound of your stomach growling broke the moment, and both of you burst into laughter. "i think that's my cue to make us some dinner," you said, still giggling.

sunoo grinned. "i'll help. i don't trust your cooking skills after hearing your singing."

you playfully swatted his arm as you headed to the kitchen together, the music still playing softly in the background. it was a simple, silly moment, but it was perfect in its own way, a reminder of the easy, comfortable bond you shared with sunoo.

JUNGWON 양 정원~

as jungwon trudged home from practice, exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. all he could think about was collapsing into bed and getting some well-deserved rest. but then a thought crossed his mind, a longing to see you, his girlfriend, before he faced the dorms and the inevitable teasing from the other members.

so, he mustered up the courage to ask the manager to drop him off at your place instead. his request was met with raised eyebrows and playful ribbing from his bandmates, but jungwon brushed it off, determined to spend some quality time with you.

as jungwon settled into the back seat of the van, the other members of enhypen eyed him with playful smirks. sunghoon, sitting beside him, couldn't resist teasing. "ah, look who's got a hot date tonight," he teased, nudging jungwon with his elbow.

heeseung, from the front seat, joined in with a grin. "going to see your girlfriend, huh? don't worry, we won't tell her about your terrible snoring."

jungwon rolled his eyes, playfully swatting at sunghoon. "shut up, guys. i just want to see her before we head back to the dorms."

jake, sitting in the driver's seat, chuckled. "sure, sure. we all know you just can't bear to be away from her for too long."

the teasing continued throughout the ride, but jungwon took it all in stride, knowing it was all in good fun. deep down, he was grateful for his bandmates' camaraderie, even if it meant enduring a bit of ribbing along the way.

when he finally arrived at your apartment, he was greeted by the sound of music emanating from within. curiosity piqued, jungwon let himself in quietly, hoping to surprise you. however, what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

there you were, lost in the rhythm of enhypen's "future perfect," your movements clean and strong as you danced around the room. jungwon's eyes widened in astonishment. he had never seen this side of you before, so full of energy and passion.

careful not to disturb you, jungwon positioned himself out of sight, watching you with a mixture of awe and adoration. he couldn't tear his gaze away, captivated by the way you moved to the music, completely lost in the moment.

as the song came to an end, jungwon couldn't hold back any longer. stepping into view, he applauded softly, a warm smile spreading across his face as you turned to face him, cheeks flushed with exertion.

"wow," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "i had no idea you could dance like that."

you blinked in surprise, a bashful smile playing on your lips as you tried to catch your breath. "oh, jungwon, you're back already?" you exclaimed, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

jungwon nodded, stepping closer. "yeah, i couldn't resist the chance to see you."

you chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "well, i hope you weren't too bored watching me dance around like a fool."

"bored?" jungwon shook his head, his eyes sparkling with pride. "are you kidding? you were amazing. i had no idea you had such talent."

you blushed at his praise, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of impressing him. "thank you, jungwon. that means a lot coming from you."

he grinned, his gaze never leaving yours. "you know," he said, his tone soft but earnest, "you could easily audition for hybe. with talent like yours, you could even work with me."

NI-KI 西村力~

as riki trudged towards the dance practice room, he couldn't shake off the nervous excitement bubbling inside him. he had been told that he would be covering a new song, which meant he had to learn the choreography as well. it was a daunting task, but he was determined to give it his all.

as he pushed open the door to the practice room, he froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. there you were, dancing with their usual choreographer, effortlessly gliding across the floor to the very song he was supposed to learn. riki couldn't believe his eyes as he watched you, his non-idol girlfriend, dominating the dance floor with such grace and precision.

he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from you. you caught his eye in the reflection of the mirror and winked at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you continued to dance. riki's heart swelled with pride and admiration for you, amazed by your talent and dedication.

by the time the song came to an end, riki couldn't contain his excitement any longer. he burst into applause, cheering loudly for you as you caught your breath, a bright smile lighting up your face.

"you were incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine awe. "i had no idea you could dance like that!"

you laughed, a flush of pride coloring your cheeks as you walked over to him. "thanks, riki. i've been practicing a lot lately."

he grinned, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "well, you were amazing. in fact, you were so good, you could practically steal my job as an idol!"

you laughed at his playful remark, feeling a sense of joy and warmth enveloping you as you held him close. in that moment, surrounded by the music and the love of your life, you knew that anything was possible.

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perlelune · 3 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ix.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in the back of the car. You glance at the driver. His eyes are peeled on the road, silence filling the air. You’re thankful. You’re in no mood for small talk. Your eyes travel outside the car window. Behind you, the Corso and the Snow’s apartment is getting smaller and smaller.

Still, the weight in your chest isn’t alleviated. Not one bit. Despite heading home, not an ounce of joy finds its way inside your heart.

Your mind was at war with itself at the Snows’ penthouse. You couldn’t settle on a decision. In fact, you considered going back inside the apartment. Because that at least was simple, easy…natural almost. If it weren’t for Tigris pressing you to get inside the car and physically nudging you inside it, you’re not entirely sure you’d have even made it here.

And now…guilt consumes you.

You should be back in the room, dutifully waiting for Coriolanus ‘ return as he instructed. You’re breaking the rules. His rules.

Your stomach aches. You want to puke. What have you done? You almost find yourself wishing you were still back there.

In a twisted way, Coriolanus has become a scourge you’ve grown familiar with, a woe that blends so well with all the others. He terrifies you…but he also knows you. So well. All your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your insecurities. It’s more than you can say for anyone in your life. Even William. He thinks you’re that perfect, pure, resilient girl. You never had the heart to burst his bubble.

A deep breath makes his way inside your lungs.

No. No.

Coriolanus is bad. Coriolanus hurt you. You keep reminding yourself of that, replaying every moment when he made you feel small, powerless.

Besides, you miss your mother. Ma’s soothing words. Her gentle voice. Her warm embrace. Ma always makes things better despite struggling to understand you sometimes.

You need her and you bet she probably needs you to.

You even started to long for your father’s stern brow and disapproving stares.

As for William…truth be told, you’re beginning to ponder if you ever deserved him. He was always too good for you. Too kind. Too sweet.

You girdle a fresh rush of tears.. He should find someone who won’t lie to him, hide from him, betray him. Someone better than you.

It was naive of you to even pretend you could marry a man as wonderful as him.

The car halts in front of your parents’ house.

The driver’s cheerful voice tugs you back to reality.

“We’re here, miss.” he says. Astonishment draws a gasp from you. The drive flew by in a quick blur. Knee deep in the sea of your somber thoughts, you failed to notice you were approaching your childhood home. You fetch a bill inside your pocket but the man waves a dismissive hand at you. “Please, Miss Snow already took care of everything.” He gives a sympathetic smile. You wonder if he’s guessed anything or if he’s just picking up on the air of gloominess hovering around you. “Just take care of yourself, darlin’.”

Nodding, you mumble a quiet ‘thank you’. You exit the car and anxiously shuffle up the porch stairs. A warm breeze flutters through your chest at the sight of the familiar building.

You’re finally home.

Your gaze drifts to the garden. Surprise trickles inside you as you note that your roses are still thriving despite your absence. You wonder who you’ll have to thank for that. This batch has needed meticulous care ever since you planted the flowers. Neglecting them, even for a few days, could cause them to wither and perish.

Engulfed in contemplation, you’re startled when the front door abruptly opens.

You’re faced with Demetria’s bright smile and tearful gaze.

“Oh sweetie,” your mother exclaims, wrapping her arms around you.

You blink, taken aback by your mother’s sudden embrace. For a while, you’re unmoving, afloat in sheer disbelief.

Then quiet words fall from your tongue.

“Hey, ma.” You relax a little, your eyes closing as you hug her back. You bask in the homey scent of Ma’s perfume, worry pulsing through you when you notice how much weight she has lost since the last time you saw her. Your mother’s hardly more than bones and flesh. You shiver. Perhaps, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been gone so long. You’d have ensured Ma takes good care of herself, that she eats and doesn’t sink in a well made of her own grief.

It’s what you used to do before your world fell apart. You failed your mother. Again.

You and Ma enter the house together. You bask in your surroundings, soaking in every detail. Tears almost spill, a surge of emotion mounting inside you, but you blink them away. You’ve wept enough, been scared enough. He cannot get to you here. You wish to enjoy the fact that you’re safe and sound without turning into a puddle of tears.

Arm threaded with yours, Ma leads you to the sunroom. Colorful strips of sunlight pour from the stained glass, dousing the room in warmth. The two of you sit and, some moments later, tea and cakes are brought to the table. Your insides clutch as your eyes land on a spot on the couch. You and Coriolanus had so many conversations here. In that very same spot, he held you in his arms and listened to you as you spilled your heart out.

Your mother starts prattling on about the house and what Strabo’s been up to while you weren’t here. You’re a bit flabbergasted that she’s not questioning where you’ve been all this time, her tone airy and casual, but you don’t have the heart to interrupt. You’re just elated that you can be with her again.

When your father enters the sunroom, you nearly drop your cup. He makes his way to you, on the cusp of tears for the first time since you’ve known him.

You melt in his arms when he hugs you. He cradles the back of your head like when you were little. The tears you held hostage before now roam freely down your cheeks.

“Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

He holds you in his arms a long time before his embrace slackens. He gauges you, relief dawning on his features. He smiles. Warmth rushes to your chest. You haven’t seen your dad smile in a long time. He rubs your arms and says, “Sweetheart, We weren’t expecting you so soon.” He cups your cheek. You almost flinch at the loving touch. But then you remember. This is your father. He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re safe. “But it’s a really nice surprise.”

A watery laugh spills from your lips.

“What? But…But I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Strabo’s shoulders sag, sympathy oozing from his tone.

“Yes, but we know that…it was easier for you to stay with the Snows for a while, sweetheart. We understand.” Befuddlement wells up within you. You glance between your dad and your mother. The compassion written on their faces mirror each other. Your father pats your arm, aiming to reassure you as he adds, “Coriolanus explained everything in his letters.”

A sinking feeling grows in the pit of your stomach.

Your tremulous voice swells in the room, edging on a scream.

“What do you mean by everything, dad?”

“Sweetheart, we know. And we aren’t judging you. I promise you. Your mother and I have been young too and-”

“Can I see those letters?” you snap, dread flaring along your spine.

Strabo’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Well they’re in my study, but-”

You don’t let him finish, racing through the house and making a beeline for your father’s study. Your parents trail behind you, concern etched on their faces.

“Sweetie? What’s going on?” Ma calls.

You don’t look at them, busy rummaging through your father’s desk. Your frustration grows as you open and close every drawer.

“I need to see them. Now,” you absently reply.

“I think you need to-”

“Now, dad!”

“Alright, alright. Here.” Heaving out a weary sigh, your father strolls to a cabinet on the other side of the room. The frantic uproar of your heart fills your ears. Strabo flips through several folders before retrieving a stack of letters beneath a bunch of other files. He brings them to you and you snatch them from his hands, ignoring his shocked expression.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he murmurs.

Your gaze falls on Coriolanus’ neat, precise handwriting. The ink blurs in your sight as you register his words, frantically flipping through the pages. Only bits and pieces sink into your mind as your eyes hop from one sentence to another. By the second, you grow more and more horrified.

Your daughter is safe with me, you have my word.

Our feelings have grown too strong for us to pretend.

As the preparations for our wedding have taken much of our time…

She is terrified you will disown her but I will speak to her.

…will return when she is ready.

…for however long it takes, do not worry.

…as she is too embarrassed to announce our love to the entire capitol.

Your daughter is well and misses you dearly.

I shall do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy, now and forever.

Safe and happy. Now and…forever?

Your heart sinks to your feet.

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes rise to meet your father’s.

“No, dad. I-I don’t think I am.”

The room starts dimming around you, your knees buckling as you struggle to keep yourself upright. Your father rushes to your side.

Then all is darkness.

When your eyes quake open, you’re greeted by the comforting sight of your bedroom. The same plushies you’ve had since you were five sit on the shelves. Pictures of your family adorn the wall beneath fairy lights. Your wardrobe is against the wall at the exact same spot and so is the antique full length mirror you received on your fourteenth birthday.

Everything’s exactly where it should be. And it drapes a balm on your wounded spirit.

At least nothing about your bedroom has changed.

You never should have left those familiar walls, succumbed to boyish smiles and honeyed lies. You should have stayed right here, drowning in your own tears and choking on your pain. It beats the hell you’re experiencing now.

Your mother strokes your cheek.

“You haven’t been eating,” she says.

You sit up in your bed.

“Neither have you, Ma,” you retaliate, your brows squeezing together as you scrutinize her.

She sends you a sad smile.

“We can eat together.”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

Your gaze travels outside your window, where you get a glimpse of the rose bushes, the blushing petals brighter than ever.

“Who took care of my roses?” you mumble without thinking.

“I did.”

Your mouth falls open. “But you hate gardening.”

Ma snorts, caressing your hair. “And you’d have been sad if they’d have died while you were gone.”

Your heart swells. Your mother hasn’t stepped foot in the garden once before. She harbors a disdain for any kind of manual labor since your family left District 2. You’re in awe that she still took it upon herself to care for the flowers because she knows how much it means to you.

“I've missed you, Ma,” you say, pulling her against you for a tight hug.

“I've missed you too,” she replies, rubbing your back. “You really gave us a scare, child.”

Her long exhale flows against your shoulder. “Like I said, we understand why you had to stay away. You and Coriolanus needed time together. I just wish you felt comfortable enough to tell Dad and I the truth.”

You freeze. You’re suddenly struck with the remembrance of what occurred before you passed out and landed in your bedroom. The letters. The ghastly, dreadful letters. Or rather Coriolanus’ dizzying tower of lies. It’s no wonder your parents didn’t seek you out.

He peddled a fairytale to them. One where you’re the princess and he’s the prince coming to your rescue. Star-crossed lovers thwarted by fate. Indignation sears through you.

Your brows knit as you lean back.

“Ma, about Coriolanus-”

Your sentence is curtailed by a bashful knock on the door. Your mother urges whoever’s on the other side to enter. A maid appears, bowing in apology.

“Mr. William is here to see you, miss,” she announces.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh.”

Your fingers clench, your nails digging into your palm. It was bound to happen at some point or another.

Ma seizes your shoulder, her forehead scrunched in concern.

“Do you want me to come with you, sweetie?”

You shake your head. “No. I’ve hidden enough.” You give a feeble smile. Inwards, your heart is steadily shrinking. “I’ll talk to him. Alone.”

“Are you sure? Your father and I are here if you need anything.” Her frown accentuates. “You shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of your happiness.”

You shrivel at her words. How do you even tell her and Dad? Where to even start? And most importantly, how to do it in a way that wouldn’t break their hearts?

You’re aware of the void Coriolanus has filled for them since Sejanus’ passing. While he was a brother to you, he was a son to them.

Your father’s taken him under his wing, funding his tuition and even teaching him about his business. Your mother’s grown fond of him, regularly inviting him to lunches and even baking for him sometimes.

The Plinths and Snows have become entwined, tangled as branches growing from the same tree. And you’ve let it happen, unaware your parents were allowing a viper into their home.

You want to come clean, deliver your full truth. But the fear of causing them more hurt stitches your lips shut.

Electing to set the matter aside to focus on the one currently before you, you drag your feet downstairs. You can figure out a way to talk to your parents later.

Right now, there is one person that demands your full attention.

You’re stunned to see him standing in the lobby. It’s been so long. A lifetime ago it seems. He’s as boyishly handsome as you remember him, dark curls framing his face and vibrant forest orbs sparkling with longing at the sight of you.

“William,” you greet weakly.

He wastes no time in running to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

Nuzzling the crook of your neck, he takes a long minute to soak in your scent. Your chest twinges.

“William…”

He steps back from you, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“Something’s wrong,” he finally says.

“Maybe we should sit-”

“I’m fine standing up,” he counters. He lifts your chin. “Just talk to me.” Your lips squeeze as your pulse quickens. So many words sizzle your tongue yet none will burst forth. William scoffs in frustration. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve been going crazy thinking about what possible reasons you could have to stay in Coriolanus Snow’s house of all people. You owe me that at least.”

You give a slow nod.

“You’re right.”

You swallow the lump in your throat before meeting his gaze.

“William, the truth is…I can’t be with you anymore.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction

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hells-wasabii · 3 months

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omg hi can i get a half and half drabble and hc with a deaf!reader getting courted by the character either alastor or lucifer (whatever is easiest for you to write). i adore your writing sm i'll be so grateful :O :D

I absolutely love this prompt! I went with Lucifer because i really think it can lead to some fun scenarios! I also wanna take a second to remind everybody, just because someone is deaf, doesn't mean they're mute.

Character: Lucifer

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Lucifer x deaf!reader, Fluff)

Early on, when the king of hell was just starting to court you, I hate to say, he forgot sometimes. Lucifer would just sit there and have a whole conversation with you before he realized why you hadn't been answering. You couldn't hear him talking. Oh boy was he embarrassed. His face turned the same shade of red as the spots on his cheeks...

He would always be careful not to startle you either, a gentle tap on your shoulder to help get your attention. If you needed help with any sort of audio issue he was right there by your side in an instant.

Before he learned to sign, because I can tell you right now that man would go above and beyond for his partner, he would be careful with how he spoke. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you to read his lips as he was talking with you.

If anyone gave you shit, you'd best believe he'd have it dealt with. Huh? A demon that just kept yelling louder when you didn't reply right away because you couldn't read his lips from how fast he talked? What'd he look like? Yeah, I'm pretty sure a demon like that never existed. Oh well. Wanna see his newest duck? This one he made look like you!

Lucifer Morningstar did not get nervous. He was the strongest being in hell for fuck's sake.

Then again, you had a knack for bringing out sides of him that he thought he'd buried a long time ago.

He had been practicing for a while now, Charlie had been kind enough to teach him during his visits to the hotel. Just yet another thing to be grateful to his daughter for. Of course, when he told her the reason for wanting to learn how to do it, the princess squealed and wrapped her dad up in a big hug.

Taking a deep breath, the fallen angel stepped forward into your field of view. He smiled, totally not nervously, when you looked up at him from the book you had been reading, offering a little wave that you returned.

Well, here went nothing. Lucifer admittedly kept his eyes on his hands, making sure the motions were just right. Didn't want to accidentally say something wrong or insult you somehow. Though he didn't think the signs were similar to anything like that he was still worried about it Charlie hadn't been too impressed when it happened before...

'What are you reading?' He had signed.

A simple phrase, but everyone has to start somewhere. Oh, how he wished he could have saved a photograph of how much you lit up, tossing the book to the side to embrace him. You didn't sign back or say anything just hugged him so tight, appreciation practically radiating off of you.

His hands had shaken only a little bit too!

He felt like he was flying! Oh wait, shit, he was! The king of hell couldn't help the joyous laughter that spilled from his lips. He hoped that you could feel the rumble of his chest when he did. But he was fairly certain that you could feel the joy in his smile when your lips captured his.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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oracle-of-dream · 4 months

Text

Him or Me

Minors DNI

Summary: You've been put together for a group project with Heeseung, another one of Jake's friends. Jake is sure Heeseung is plotting to take you away from him, so Jake has to make sure you know where you belong... Notes: Male reader, handjob (Jake rec.), cum swallowing, Jealous Jake, Teasing Heeseung

Wordcount: 1.9k

This is a request!

The clock was five minutes away from ending class, ticking loudly as it echoed in the silent class. It was another exam for you to do, which you finished almost thirty minutes ago but you had to wait till the end of class for an announcement from your professor.

Next to you, your boyfriend, Jake, was struggling through the last part of the exam. It was a free response, so you knew he’d take a while before deciding to write.

“You might want to write something soon, you’re running out of time,” you whisper to him.

He glared at you knowingly, not trying to get in trouble for talking too loudly.

You played on your phone until the last second of the exam when the alarm went off. The student assistants collected all the papers, Jake was still scribbling the last of his answers before they had to take it from him. Once all the exams were collected, the professor explained our next major assignment. A small interview with another person in the class to understand unique points of view when put in new situations.

Jake beamed with excitement at hearing an easy grade. A simple Q&A with his boyfriend to boost his grades was just what he needed after the exam. But Jake shrank back into his seat when the professor announced they’d already been assigned partners by a personality quiz they’d given on the first day.

“Each of you has been matched with someone you may potentially click with because of your similar personalities. Or, you could be purposefully put with someone who strongly opposes your beliefs too. Make sure to keep things civil and respectful. That’s all.” The professor sent out the email of who’s been put with whom and left the class before anyone could protest about their partners.

Jake searched the list for his name but he found yours first. “Oh! Babe, you’re with…”

You noticed Jake stopped talking. “What is it?”

Jake’s expression darkened with irritation. “It’s… him.”

“Him, who?”

“Him, me, I’m guessing. Right, Jake?” A familiar voice sounded cheerfully behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see Heeseung standing there. Heeseung had a weird love-hate relationship with Jake. On some things, they’d be the best of friends over. On other topics, it would be impossible to think they’d ever get along.

Heeseung looked you up and down. “Hey, y/n. It’s good to see you,” he winked.

Jake let out a huff of air before packing the rest of his things.

“Oh? Jake, don’t be like that.” Heeseung swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning on you. “It’s not like we’re going to do anything bad, it’s just a project!” He giggled with joy at messing with Jake.

You honestly loved seeing Jake get jealous. Heeseung had a naturally flirty nature to him, so Jake was always on guard with him when it came to you. But he was still your boyfriend, so you had to support Jake, even if he was hard-headed.

“Jake, why don’t we interview at your place? You can sit with us and be there the whole time.” You shrugged off Heeseung’s arm and hugged Jake’s back. “Please?”

Jake took a moment to consider it. And Heeseung chimed in.

“Unless you want him to be at my place?” He smiled devilishly, trying to goad Jake into talking.

Jake took the bait without hesitation. “No! Both of you will meet me at my place.” He turned to you, “You’ll be there an hour before he gets there.” Then turned to Heeseung, “and you’ll leave as soon as you’re done.” Jake huffed again as he took your hand and pulled you along with him out of the classroom as Heeseung let the two of you walk by.

“It’s always a good time talking to you Jake!” He shouted as Jake stormed down the hallway.

Getting to Jake’s house, he was quiet the whole ride over. Jake loved talking to you, even if it was about nothing, he loved getting to hear you speak to him. But you couldn’t think of anything to say while you knew he was in his head, he wouldn’t even hear you anyway

Jake parked at his place, got out of the car, and opened your door for you. Even when angry, Jake could never forget his manners. He unlocked the front door, let you walk in first, and then started making a snack for the two of you.

It was still bothering him, but he was trying to act like it wasn’t.

“Jake. Please talk to me, babe.” You begged.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“Anything, I just want to hear you.”

“Do you like Heeseung?”

You knew he was going to throw that at you. “No. I don’t. And you know I don’t like it when you imply that I’d leave you for him like that.”

Jake looked at you with wet eyes. “I know… He just gets under my skin without even trying! It’s just so–”

The doorbell rang.

You both looked at each other before he walked to the door to answer it. You followed him to see who was there. Jake opened the door to see Heeseung standing outside.

“What the hell? What are you doing here so early? We just got home.”

Heeseung shrugged. Y/n shares their location with me, so I figured I’d just come over now so we can get to work sooner. Then maybe we could go get some dinner later.

Jake cocked his head to the side and looked at you with a glare.

“Jake, we’re friends. Friends share their locations. Heeseung even has your location.” You complained.

Jake turned his attention to Heeseung again. “He’s not going anywhere with you.”

“I meant, we all go out to dinner,” Heeseung said dryly.

“Whatever, just come in and do the friggin thingy already,” Jake said as he walked away from the door and back into the kitchen.

You let Heesung in and closed the door behind him. You set up an audio recording on your phone and started asking him some of the interview questions you were assigned. Jake stood in the doorway, watching the two of you like a hawk.

Jake eventually started squirming and shuffling. Then sighing loudly. Even tapping his foot. All signs that Jake was ready for Heeseung to wrap it up, but it was ruining your audio recording.

Heeseung must’ve noticed that you were getting irritated because he asked for a quick break. He pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back in it, manspreading widely. “Jakey, why don’t you come sit with us? You can sit on my lap while I answer the questions since you’re going to be a baby about it. Does the baby need to sit on my lap?” Heeseung teased.

Jake made a face and sat down in a chair next to you, dragging it on the floor to make a bunch of noise. He gently took your hand and kissed the back of it before letting you continue with the interview, but he didn’t let go of your hand. Every few answers, you could see Jake roll his eyes or make a face at Heeseung. Eventually, it was getting to be too much of a distraction for Heeseung, as he was starting to tease Jake back.

“Okay, how about we have a bit longer of a break? I gotta talk to Jake for a few.” You pushed Jake out of his seat and made him go into your shared bedroom. You closed and locked the door behind you.

“Jesus, Jake! What am I going to do with you?” You fussed.

“I–” Jake started but stopped himself from giving an excuse. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to get in the way. He’s just so… him.”

“What makes you think he has something that I’m looking for in a boyfriend that you don’t already have? You have everything I could want.” You stroke his cheek as you come close to him for a soft kiss on his lips.

Jake wrapped his arms around you. He slipped his tongue into the kiss and you gasped as he picked you up. He carried you to the bed and sat down on the bed, letting you rest on his lap. He placed soft kisses on your collarbone before giving bites on your flesh, moving up your neck to your ears. His hands spread your legs and wrapped them around his waist. He started playing with your thighs, slowly crawling up until he got to the waistline of your pants.

You stop him. “Heeseung’s still here, if we do that he’ll hear us.”

Jake frowned. “Does he even matter right now? It’s our time.”

You kissed him again. “We can have that kind of fun tonight, okay? After dinner.” You tried to climb off of Jake, but he wouldn’t let you go.

“You can’t leave me like this…” He looks down at the tent in his pants. “It hurts so bad, I need you.”

“My poor baby,” you cooed at him as your hand rubbed him through his jeans. “We can’t fuck, but I can at least help you, okay?”

Jake nodded as a look of relief spilled across his face from your touch, his hips lifting to rub against your hand.

You climb off him and slide his pants down enough for his cock to spill out into your hands. The throbbing, dripping shaft of him jumped as you touched it. His tip was already leaking like crazy, and you used your fingers to rub over it. Earning moans and twitches of pleasure.

“More,” Jake demanded. “Please…” He corrected himself as he felt you squeeze his cock tightly, warning him to keep his head on.

You moved your hand up and down his cock, his hips automatically moving to meet you. The feeling was already the best for him. He loved feeling touch from you, even just a pat on the head could get him rock hard. You speed up as you see his eyes shut and his face scrunched so cutely.

“T-That’s it, keep going!” He begged.

You took it further; focusing one hand on his tip and the other on his base, working him over completely.

Jake could barely keep still, shaking and his right leg kept twitching. He whimpered to you, “I’m so close, p-please, help me. I don’t want a mess.”

You brought your mouth down to his tip and replaced your hand with it, preparing for him to finish in your mouth. The wet sensations were enough to immediately knock him over, as he shot his cum down your throat with one hand in his hair. The other hand was holding your hand that was still stroking him.

“P-Please, stop!” Jake whined as you milked him completely for another minute. He convulsed and tears threatened his eyes. It was enough to make his eyes roll back and he held in a scream as you got the last drop of him. When you let go of him, he breathlessly thanked you before drifting off into unconsciousness.

You tucked him into bed properly and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

You went back to Heeseung to finish your interview undisturbed. Heeseung asked about where Jake went, sounding kind of sour like he’d known the answer already.

“Jake felt a little tired after we talked. So I let him go to sleep so we could finish. I guess we’ll have to pass on that dinner tonight.” You smiled coyly.

Heeseung smiled and left you alone as he went back home. Letting you get back to your boyfriend who was beginning to stir. Maybe Jake would be ready for round two by now…

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen jaeyun

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