#though she would’ve made it worse too
Text
then, and again, and once more
6.9k words
Summary - Yuuji tries to impress you and win your heart, with the help of Sukuna… who seems weirdly knowledgeable about and interested in you.
Warnings - p in v sex, FULL NELSON BABY!!!, yuuji eats pussy :), oh yeah fem reader btw, sukuna is here too (and his cannibalism is mentioned), idiot friends pining for each other, very vague timeline idk but yuuji is aged up
sukuna-centric part 2
There it is again.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
That unbearable thick bass in his chest, banging so tirelessly against his ribs that it threatens to make him nauseous. A quick inhale and yep - scratch that - he’s definitely already nauseous.
Yuuji sinks his sweaty palms deeper into his pants pockets, eyes darting sharply down to his beaten sneakers. The once vibrant ruby shade is now marred by dirt and aging threads - and if he turns his right foot just so, then he can see an old, blackened stain from pizza sauce he spilled while eating out with you. The memory, or more specifically how you’re giggling in his memory, makes him smile.
And in the real world, Megumi is watching his friend grin ear to ear while looking at a black, crusty splotch on the inside curve of his right shoe. After having just wide-eyed stared at you from across the room while you and Nobara heatedly debate where to go for dinner.
He glares at Yuuji, lashes narrowing, “You look insane. Knock it off.”
That snaps the boy from his reminiscing, and it takes him three long seconds before he registers the insult, “I was thinking!”
“Obviously,” Megumi scratches the side of his nose, more to just have something to do with his hands than anything else, “What were you thinking about?”
Humming quietly to himself, Yuuji shrugs, “Oh, the usual.”
“You’re hopeless,” Megumi maintains his efforts to keep his hands busy by scratching the back of his head, “Just tell her already. What’s the worst that happens?”
“She rejects me and avoids me,” Yuuji pouts, “Honestly, ‘gumi, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic - being a standoffish and awkward guy yourself.”
Swatting at his friend’s shoulder, Megumi shakes his head, “The hell is wrong with you? Was that just sitting in your mind?” he shakes his head again, glare growing stronger, “And don’t call me that.”
“I thought you had anxiety or something,” Yuuji shrugs, “Why else would you be so weird in public?”
Any previous concern regarding Yuuji’s well-being immediately flies from Megumi at that. He folds his arms across his chest with murmurs of hatred floating out from his lips. All as he waltzes over to where you and Nobara are seated around your laptop at the chipping hardwood table.
Yuuji has no problem shrugging off Megumi's irritation, but when it comes to the mere idea of your face stretching in disgust at him - God, isn’t that the worst?
“You’re the worst, brat,” comes that rumbling, terrible voice in the back of his head. The nagging used to sound more like him - and when he’s really stressed, it still sometimes does - but now his own voice has faded into the King of Curses’. Now his own voice is sweeter, more prone to praise and positives - in a weird way, Sukuna has made Yuuji better.
But in a lot more ways -
“Oi, don’t ignore me.”
He’s made Yuuji’s life so much worse.
“You like that one, right? I can help.”
You’re sitting back, allowing Megumi to take the reins on shooting down Nobara’s suggestion for sushi. Normally, that demand isn’t a problem, but this would be the fifth night in a row she’s tried roping you all into ordering sushi for her. You lean into Megumi a little, and Yuuji hates the way his chest tightens at the display.
It isn’t even affection. It’s just…
“You want to be the one she’s on, right?”
Yuuji sighs to himself and sneaks out of the kitchen, though it’s hardly a challenge when Nobara raises her voice to defend her long-lasting cravings.
With tense shoulders and a red face, Yuuji glances down each side of the hall to ensure nobody is nearby, “How could you help with this?”
Sukuna’s eye on Yuuji’s cheek has flitted up to stare into Yuuji’s, and that sickly crawl of his skin stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s wide grin makes his stomach turn, “You’re just a child, you don’t know anything about women.”
Yuuji could double over, hands on his knees and breathless in sputters of laughter, but he refrains - unwilling to let anyone hear his schizophrenic ramblings, “And you do?”
Sukuna’s eye rolls and Yuuji hates the way it feels under his cheekbone, nearly retching in response, “Of course.”
And that strings up some different terrible question in Yuuji, “But why would you help me?”
Sukuna has been so unwilling to do anything useful for Yuuji despite the fact he’s allowed to reside in this body - so what could possibly possess him to do this now?
“Do you want my help or not, worm?”
Yuuji sighs through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, thinking hard about the offer. He’d come to the conclusion not too long after swallowing his first finger to simply not question many of Sukuna’s motives, mostly since his goals are: chaos, women, and chaos.
“This better not be some gross pass at my friend,” Yuuji sneers, body electrified on the ready to smack down his own cheek should he hear an answer he doesn’t like.
Sukuna is too quiet for too long, and Yuuji is fully prepared to swipe at the parasite on his face when finally, that deep voice rattles again. It buzzes in his flesh, uncomfortable and itchy and so quiet he barely hears what the curse mumbles into him.
The boy pauses and lets the words melt on his tongue, he turns them between his molars and laves the roof of his mouth with the remaining implications. He wasn’t expecting Sukuna to be honest, not to that degree at least.
And Yuuji smacks Sukuna’s bulbous eye down anyway.
“Fine then,” Yuuji pulls his hand down and curls his fingers into a fist, another great big awful ragged sigh roughing over his tongue like barbed wire, “I’ll listen to you, but if you ruin this for me- “
“Calm down, brat,” the mouth pops back up stubbornly, bitterly spitting out his version of a promise, “I don’t plan on failing.”
Yuuji pushes himself off the wall and spins back into the kitchen unnoticed, hands locking behind his head as he saddles up beside you at the table, “So, what’s for dinner?”
He snorts at how you groan, looking up at him from your seat with tired, low-lidded eyes and gesturing across the table to where Megumi and Nobara are still arguing, “You tell me.”
“Why don’t we just go out?” Yuuji shrugs, grinning broadly despite the way his two friends both twitch their necks over to glare at him, “Come on, it’s not even dark! We can walk around and do a little looking; get some air!”
Nobara’s pitched shoulders drop, pinched expression falling into her usual lax, she looks over at Megumi again with a raised brow. Megumi shrugs, his own eyebrows still scrunched together, “If it’s fine with you two, I don’t care.”
You snicker, standing up against the stiff wood supports of the chair legs, one elbow digging into the table to further help hold you up while your spare fingers dance up to smooth out the crinkled space, “I think it’ll be fun.”
Megumi snatches you by the wrist and tosses your hand to the side while Nobara hops down from her own chair, stretching out her back until it pops obnoxiously. She’s already bouncing out of the kitchen to snag her shoes before shouting back, “Well, come on! We’re on a timer now, people!”
“Jeez,” you slip off the chair pegs, bumping slightly into Yuuji’s side - entirely oblivious to the sparkly fireworks you sweep across your poor friend’s body at the contact, “Should’ve just suggested that from the start, huh?”
Shrugging, Yuuji waits for you to begin walking out of the kitchen before following, “Sometimes you just need fresh eyes on a situation, you know?”
“I guess,” you fold your arms, evidently frustrated, “Just feel like that was something I should’ve seen.”
Yuuji feels that disgusting, familiar thumping in his chest just by looking at you now. Heat radiating from his cheeks to the expanse of his chest, throat swelling with the uncomfortable need to spill his guts - dump every little thought and feeling he’s ever had for you into your ears until you force him to shut up. Like how he can’t even look at Jennifer Lawrence the way he used to simply because she isn’t you.
Maybe then he’d tell you that this hasn’t happened in the six years since he first saw Silver Linings Playbook. Maybe you’d tell him to stop talking, and that you two would never happen.
Maybe then he can move on, when you crush his hope. But he doesn’t really want that.
And he doesn’t really know why he agreed to let Sukuna lend him any advice.
Oh well.
It’s when you’re rushing out the door to keep up with Megumi and Nobara that Sukuna opens his mouth for the first time.
His voice stabs into Yuuji’s ears, but it isn’t exceptionally as cruel as he usually finds it, this, instead, is purely instructional, “When you two are out tonight, tell her about that cat you saw around the garden today.”
Yuuji scratches through his messily filed memories, “I saw a cat?”
“Yes, twit, a black one. Tell her about how its fur changed color in the sun.”
“Okay…?” Yuuji huffs in his daze, finally putting effort into walking alongside you and the others, “Hey! So, I just remembered something.”
“Oh yeah?” you smile at Yuuji, purely encouraging, and he’s disgusted at the way he almost trips over his own feet.
Nobara and Megumi pay the both of you little mind, instead pointing out different potential favorite hotspots they could creep into for the night. Well, Nobara points out, they could even stop at two places if they’re feeling adventurous. And Megumi says they can do whatever the rest of you think is best.
But Yuuji isn’t listening, and you’re hardly lending an ear, he swallows down the rock in his throat and nods, “I saw a cat this morning - a black one! - and it made me think of you,” the gentle warmth spreading through him could either be the way you’re lighting up at him, or Sukuna silently congratulating his good line, “Its fur was all brownish red in the sun, it was…” your eyes are so starry and sweet, solely on him - it makes his tongue tie up in knots, “It was beautiful.”
“Bummer I wasn’t there, then,” you pout a little, “You need to get me for things like that!” he laughs at the way your face has morphed, all stern and strict business, “Seriously!”
“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, both hands up in playful defense, “I promise to call you if I see another cat.”
“Could’ve at least taken a picture for me,” you histrionically sigh, “And I thought we were friends.”
A sudden thought invades the back of Yuuji’s mind. Some hidden, more primal part of his mind that he doesn’t usually listen to flashes back to a time he doesn’t remember.
We used to be more.
You and him are sitting out in the sun with a fluffy little Bombay cat tucked into your lap. It paws at the buttery dandelions that bloom between you both, his own legs are sprawled out impolitely and your own are crossed to wall around the feline in your hold. His knee knocks against yours whenever he shifts his leg. You lean in, shoulder digging into the meat of his muscled arm and temple resting on his shoulder.
Your body is entirely at ease. His is, too.
Yuuji knows exactly where the thought comes from. And if that dark, creepy place weren’t so infested by evil then maybe he’d feel a little pity for it. But you’re in front of him now, and you’re excited to be here, and your pinky keeps knocking into his as you two walk side-by-side - so there’s no room for pity in his heart.
Your quartet winds up squished into a teal leather booth towards a back corner of Nobara’s selected diner. You and Nobara sit on the interior seats, pressed into the windows, with Yuuji and Megumi caging the both of you in. Megumi having shoved Yuuji down next to you before the boy could even see who was where.
“What were you thinking?” Nobara sits up, jabbing your arm with a manicured finger just to annoy you.
Flicking at her hand, you shrug, focusing on the boards plastered behind the front bar counter for any eye-catching special offers.
Yuuji can feel the tightening of his cheek skin as the eyeball threatens to pop out, it stings when his cheek is forced to split for Sukuna’s eye. His cheek below that parts as well for his lips.
And Sukuna is kind enough this once to be quiet, “Tell her to get the wildfowl bowl,” as if sensing his arising questions, Sukuna continues, “And tell the kitchen worms to make sure the vegetables are soft. Not well, not sturdy,” he sounds disgusted as he says it, “Soft.”
“Hey,” and against everything he’s been told by Gojo, Yuuji puts his entire trust into the curse inside him, “that wildfowl bowl looks good, right?”
You lean closer to Yuuji, arm brushing his as you try to see where he spotted that, “What’s in it? Duck?”
He gives a conformational hum even though he has no idea, “Probably good with soft vegetables.”
Megumi shakes his head, “What does that even mean?”
“When they steam the veggies for longer than usual,” you pat Yuuji’s shoulder while defending him, “I get what you mean, Itadori. Sorry Fushiguro is so judgemental.”
“I was just saying…” Megumi’s voice flutters out of Yuuji’s focus.
Instead, another memory he never made begins to flourish from that black, mushy, rotted back of his brain.
You’re sat in his lap, large thighs perfectly bracketing around your own. A neglected bowl of slim slivers of perfectly browned duck meat sits atop cooling rice, carrots, and green beans. No doubt soft and easy to chew. In your hands is a steaming bowl, larger than the one in your lap, weighed down by thick cuts of juicy meat slabs. Almost like steak, but there’s no outer hide tanned by flame. It’s red, almost raw, and even after trimming the fat - it’s still bathed in pink, fleshy trails.
Grinning so lovingly, you pinch the slabs with your bare fingers and merely giggle when Sukuna’s sharp teeth prick at your skin. His long tongue works to clean your fingers of the excess meat juices as he eats. Two of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady, a third is steadied beside him against the cold bone of his throne, and a fourth resides at the back of your head. Almost big enough to palm the whole of your skull like a children’s ball - he pats and pets and smooths his fingers over the slope of the back of your neck.
Preening under gentle attention, you’re sure to empty Sukuna’s bowl before picking your own back up.
People watch with blood at their feet, none dare to move. Fearful to become the next hot meal in your hand should they disobey Sukuna’s silent command.
As your hands wrap around your cold bowl, a deep grunt reverberates behind you in Sukuna’s broad chest. He tugs the dish from your grasp; plucks the duck meat between his forefinger and thumb and holds it above your nose, forcing you to look up.
He waves it in front of your face, “Open,” and you follow his order, lips parting yet still pitched up in the impression of a pleased smile. And when he flattens the meat to your tongue and you begin chewing - you’re still smiling. That earns another fond stroke down the back of your head, pausing at your shoulder and digging his thumb into the muscle just to hear you sigh, “Good girl.”
Yuuji doesn’t see all of that. He can grasp some vague sense that you two have shared meals he’ll never get to taste, but he never sees the gristle left behind on your fingers or the saliva webbed between your fingers after feeding Sukuna.
That - Sukuna ‘hmph's proudly as he watches you beam at Yuuji over your modern interpretation of your favorite meal - the King of Curses keeps to himself. Selfishly, just as he always has.
That next morning, you sheepishly prattle into the dusty, creaky classroom with only four rusty, barely used desks and slip into the one by Yuuji. You’re toying with the tips of your hair, eyes bouncing from where Yuuji sits on the desktop beside you and the classroom door.
Nobara sits backward at the desk directly in front of you, arms coiled around the back support of her chair as she speaks and Megumi sits normally beside her - attention solely on his book. Yuuji watches you fiddle with the ends of your hair while pretending to listen to Nobara.
And then he sees it. The new cherry shade decorating your lips, and before Sukuna can sprout and tell him to - Yuuji’s leaning down with his best smile, “New lipstick?”
Jumping at the sudden voice, your rigid posture melts under the boy’s gaze, “Yes, actually. You like?”
It could be puke green and Yuuji would still want it smeared across his face from your kisses.
But despite housing Sukuna Ryomen and battling dreadful curses, Yuuji fails to muster the courage to say that to your face, “Yeah! It’s really pretty.”
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
There goes your annoying heart, hammering just from the sound of Yuuji’s overtly positive lilt. It makes your cheeks burn and fingers skittishly tip-tap against the pencil-scratched desk, “You think so?”
But he’d never lie, you know that.
So even though it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doubles down, your annoying heart won’t stop dramatically tossing itself around when Yuuji nods with a determined, boyish grin, “Definitely.”
It’s all so saccharine and perfect, it makes Sukuna nauseous. Which, in turn, makes Yuuji nauseous.
Face paling, Yuuji jumps onto his feet and excuses himself, rushing out of the room (with no Gojo even in sight, by the way) towards the bathroom.
“Is he okay?” Nobara murmurs, stretching her neck to see outside the door frame, “What a weirdo.”
“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “He is sometimes, huh?”
Megumi gags at your tone, “Seriously…?”
“What was that?” Yuuji’s question is spikey and venomous while he stares into the cracked, water-spotted mirror - straight at the little eyeball on his cheek.
“You two are disgusting,” Sukuna stares back into the glass, low-lidded and unimpressed, “Get this over with and ask her out, brat.”
“But what if she says no?” Yuuji reaches up and toys with the little pink hairs at the back of his head, eyes suddenly unable to meet Sukuna at all, “It’ll totally ruin everything.”
“Enough whining. She won’t say no.”
He doesn’t know how it took so long to recognize, or maybe he just needed an excuse to display his old, unbroken knowledge of you before your fleshly little weakling friends even knew it. But he’s seen the little bursts of color and stars and sparkles and all that cute mess before.
He’s seen it many times. It was the only way you used to look at Sukuna.
That puppyish, lovesick wonder as you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at him.
Even when he would return to you in blood and sweat and muck and smelling of the death and despair he expertly wrought.
You were always at least five paces ahead of Uraume, hands bunching up in the pretty flowing silks that decorated your body. Excitedly, you’d pounce and he would hold you. Sapping up your energy and feeding off the way you’d press cherry-tasting kisses all along his hardened face. You served yourself up to him on a silver platter, all your heart and soul and mind devoted entirely and without ulterior motives. That’s why you were always his favorite.
Nothing before or after you was ever up to par. And he felt disgruntled at every turn into different worshippers and concubines and lovers - somehow wronged simply by the fact they were not as you were. It was all so disappointing.
And every now and again he’d flash back to you while with others. He imagines it’s how children feel when they remember a lost or broken or tossed-out favorite toy. That ache of times lost and never feeling quite fulfilled again.
Which is why when he saw you again through this brat’s eyes, he could instantly remember those nights with you. Full-bellied and raw-lipped and your pulse between his teeth.
But Yuuji knows nothing of that, and so when he returns to the classroom - neither of you says anything.
It’s only the two of you. Everyone else was cast out in the violent, unwilling acceptance that they had done all they could. With no open wound, there was a horrific list rattled off in Sukuna’s ears. Illnesses and infections that attacked the lungs and nervous system and skin and heart - things that would eat you alive from the inside. And when all could be done about that, you remained in bed.
In and out of consciousness and delusional, proclaiming twisted lights and shadowy creatures trying to rip you from yourself.
Perhaps, one of the women called to care for you shyly spoke up, perhaps she’s just too old.
And that was something he avoided admitting to himself.
But it was time now.
With dew still moist on the blades of grass and morning sunlight streaming through the window beside your bed - the bell tolls. Your fingers are stiff in the sheets, limbs cold and stiff when you’re found. Wide, puppylike eyes gaze up at the ceiling and Sukuna has you buried beneath the tallest, most twisted tree he could find in the surrounding forest. And when Sukuna returns from your grave that night - alone - he crosses into a dark tunnel.
It’s cold and solid beneath his feet, paces echoing back for his ears. He keeps his eyes down to avoid maddening himself over the plainness - the displeasure of even glimpsing this tunnel’s repetitive nature.
Until there’s light, golden, with the shrouded, clumsy shape of twisted branches and lanky trunks coming into view at the far open end.
And faintly, like the sweet singing of a beloved music box, he hears the tune of your voice. A high scoop towards the end.
“Itadori, right?”
Sukuna’s feet move faster before he even fully knows he’s moving.
On the other side is you, a hand jammed out in front of you in a polite wave - as if the both of you are strangers. Then that name creeps back up his spine.
Well, it’s not truly his spine, is it? It’s this new brat’s.
But then there’s your honeyed voice again, “Huh, third eye.”
Right. You wouldn’t remember it, would you?
You wouldn’t remember any of it.
Yuuji shoots up, dark sheets tangled around his ankles and cold sweat beading down his forehead - strings of pink hair matted down to his skin uncomfortably. His wide eyes scramble across the shadows of his room, slowly refamiliarizing himself with the expanse and soothing his pounding heart.
He smoothes back his hair, running through the small kinks and knots, “What the hell was that?”
That slicing pain along his cheek shocks him awake further, but no sore, deep voice follows. The eye sits there, downcast. Sitting inside this body is one of the last things he saw for himself, but to exist beside you again is liquid gold just flowing in a river. A river his new body refuses to swim in.
“She’s still awake.”
Yuuji looks over to the red numbers lighting up from his bedside alarm clock, “It’s midnight.”
Sukuna inhales sharply, irritation scorching a hole in his tongue, but he withholds the many sudden hateful thoughts he has towards Yuuji and simply repeats himself, “She’s still awake.”
“It’s weird how obsessed you are with this,” Yuuji swings his legs over the edge of his bed and slips his feet into the slippers you’d gifted him. They’re cheesy and themed after fire engines and just barely fit, but he wears them at any given opportunity.
The eye sinks back into his skin, lips sealing shut, and a thick sludge boils in Yuuji’s stomach. Quiet King of Curses is an unsettling King of Curses, and Yuuji barely finds himself able to tune out the exhaustive wave of Sukuna’s criticisms. That is much preferred to this buzzing silence.
Creeping down the moaning wooden panels to your room, Yuuji raps his knuckles against your door before immediately shuffling his fists into his gray sweatpants.
Something clatters against hardwood, sheets ruffle, and your footsteps thump, thump, thump up to your bedroom door. Your face peeks out from the sliver of cracked doorway, and there’s no hint of sleep in your gaze. You seem alert, if a little lazily slouched against your doorframe.
“Itadori?”
Oh, right. He was here to say something, wasn’t he?
But he can’t possibly find the strength in his tongue, not when you look at him like that.
With some impossible adoration, like you simply can’t wait to hear whatever stupid bullshit he’s about to spout. He feels so unworthy of it all, and he can’t wait to find out more about you and mold himself to it. To become someone you can’t imagine waking up without. To study and be studied, he’s ready to throw himself into the horrors of being known - if it’s you he’s known by.
The air is punched out of him as he speaks, “Can…” you nod him along, opening your door wider, “Can I kiss you?”
Now that he’s so close to the sugary river, he can’t wait to dive in.
“Seriously?” you laugh in shock at the outburst, but when his face persists, you fling the door open entirely, “Seriously?”
Yuuji winds his hands tighter, to stop himself from desperately clawing his way down your throat, “I like you. I’ve liked you…” he’s unnatural like this, red in the face and dodging your stare, “I don’t even know.”
But you do, you felt it when you first saw him. However, you’re not plagued by the chains of past lives, so the implications are lost. Winding your arms behind your back and grinning at Yuuji with toothy glee, “Me too.”
His eyes nail you with that doughy, desperate plea for attention - the need to be seen as himself. And you’ve always been glad to lend it over in plentiful bounties.
That buzz of silence stabs the both of you.
Until Yuuji can no longer tether himself to his pockets, his big hands gentle as he cups both your cheeks. He molds himself to you, hoping that those troublesome flashes of times he never lived will at least serve his muscle memory now.
Your hands twist into the front of Yuuji’s shirt, nails biting into the black, soft, loose fabric and tugging him closer. Yuuji’s lips are slightly chapped, and you can feel the imprints from where he’s bitten them raw. He hisses when you peek your tongue at the smooth spots.
Wrenching your hands back, you quickly run them under and up his sleep shirt - his skin is warm and he gasps against your lips when your fingertips skim along his sides.
Yuuji pulls back, cheeks flaming, and shoulders his way past your bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him and placing his hands over his shirt - finding yours through the material. He grins, chuckling at how you grope his muscle, squeezing around your hands, “Enjoying yourself?”
“Whatever,” you huff, embarrassed, then ripping your hands out from under his shirt and twisting your fingers between his before - just to prove a point - planting his palms below your own shirt, “You try being normal like this.”
Yuuji’s broad palms are still only burning into the soft flesh of your stomach, but his heart is terribly out of whack.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
“You can go higher,” your voice lilts higher, a mere soft whisper as if anything louder could entirely break the poor boy’s brain, “If you want…”
Of course, he does. He’d trade a thousand years with that Sisyphus guy Megumi mentioned to him just for twelve seconds of his hands sizzling up your body. Maybe even just for the chance.
His hands scope higher, palms glued to the planes of your body like he’s trying to scar himself along your skin. The sudden need to leave some lasting impression that he was there - here with you.
Yuuji does his best not to jump when Sukuna’s voice slithers into his ear, polite enough to whisper so he doesn’t alarm you, “Get her on her back. Tongue her cunt.”
You look at him all sweet and concerned when Yuuji’s nose scrunches, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
But he has no idea how to tell you that Sukuna’s words make his stomach churn, and by the time he even tries to form the words he’s thinking about it. Imagining himself on his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair, and eagerly trying to annoy your friends as much as possible with how loud he can make you. And he feels so, so lightheaded at that.
Yuuji’s eyes are wide, staring into yours with such fire that it almost makes you shy away, “Can I eat you out?”
But you brave his dissecting gaze, heart pounding in your ears.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
And, oh, Yuuji could just about die happy right now.
On his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands screwed into the twirls of his tousled hair and (hopefully) annoying at least a nosy Nobara should she be listening to your soft moans next door.
Yuuji wiggles his tongue into your weeping hole, nestling his nose against your clit with a wheezy little whine. His eyes flutter up at you through the gaps between your shaking arms.
“Get your hands in there,” Sukuna’s voice is muffled against the thickness of your thigh, “Thumb her clit, don’t rely on your nose.”
Crinkling his brows, Yuuji has to bite back his remarks about how Sukuna could’ve told him that sooner. Snaking his right hand over your leg, Yuuji flattens his large hand against your lower stomach and pins your bucking hips. His thumb taking residence on your swollen clit, the bridge of his nose still saddled beneath it.
Your back arches, hips grinding down into Yuuji’s thumb and tongue. He’s messy with it - head shaking just to tease and feel the wetness of your pussy slip and slather across his chin. He tongue-fucks you in earnest, practically moaning into you as he grinds against the mattress. Swishing his thumb against your clit faster when he can feel you tighten around him, chasing the feeling of you cumming all over his face.
He can hear it despite his desperation - the way your breath hitches and throat cinches out a squeal. Your thighs squish around his head and Yuuji has to force his hips still lest he be submitted to the horrors of cumming in his pants.
And it isn’t even the fear of your reaction - no, he knows better than to think you’re capable of making him feel shame. It’s just-
“Yes,” Sukuna’s voice is husky, tongue lolling out along Yuuji’s cheek to lather up your juice, “Yes!”
Yuuji knows exactly who will be making fun of him instead. He smacks at the unwanted presence and takes it as pure luck when Sukuna actually stays down.
He works his tongue out of you slowly, letting you whine and huff the way off your high naturally before peeking up at you. He’s grinning, eyes wide and hands retreating to dig hungrily into the meat of your thighs.
“Hey, I wanna try something,” Yuuji’s shamelessness in licking at his soaked lips makes heat flush all the way to your forehead, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?”
You nod sheepishly, body jittery with the little bugs crawling beneath your sweltering skin. Yuuji bends to the sudden thought he’s sure has something to do with the curse inside him with a mysterious catalog on all things you.
Yuuji slips onto his back beside you, curled against the cold wall corning your bed with his feet flat against the mattress and legs bent. He uses the unnatural well of strength he’s harbored since birth to squeeze at the fat of your sides and lift you atop of him. He can feel the warmth of your cunt on his pelvis and it wracks him with a shiver, you whine helplessly when his right hand immediately welds to your slit. His index and ring fingers part your lips so his middle can swipe coyly over your clit.
“Hah,” you watch his ring finger abandon its post to join the rude teasing, “Yuuji…”
“I know,” Yuuji sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to where your wetness drips onto his skin, his hard cock peeking up between your legs, “I know, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry. Especially when he’s continuing to tease you while pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, serious now,” but he dips his fingers lower and prods at your hole, “Serious.”
You giggle, hot-faced, at his focused gaze, “Yuuji!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he spreads your lips again just to stare from over your shoulder, voice hoars when he finally speaks up, “Alright. Serious now.”
Reaching between your legs, Yuuji grabs hold of his cock - hissing at the contact - and is internally grateful when you raise your hips to meet his head. He presses his forehead against your shoulder when his tip pushes inside you. You feel the hot puffs of air he sends against your back as you continue lowering yourself. He whimpers, the hand at his base flying across your abdomen and gripping your breast. He squeezes and pinches and tries suffocating the embarrassing little noises escaping his lips when you rock your hips down on his pelvis.
“Okay down there?” you twist your head to look back at Yuuji and you’re so glad you did.
He’s flushed down to his chest and his lashes are kissing his cheeks to keep himself together, when he finally opens his eyes fully and looks up at you. His bottom lip is red and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it, “Now I’m gonna do something new.”
This wasn’t new?
Yuuji’s arms stretch under the backs of your knees and come over your shoulders before winding behind your neck, pressing his palms flat against the back of your head. Your arms dangle uselessly at your sides, hands stretching out to graze his ribs and legs bouncing limply as he manhandles you.
His cock bullies itself in your cunt, hips jerking up into the fat of your ass.
Yuuji tries to suffocate down his groans in favor of your sweet moans being punched up from your gut every time he sweeps deep inside you. His lips press tightly just as your own pop open for adorable “ah, ah ah!”s - fighting to maintain his pace despite how badly he wants to pin you to his body and wallow through the wetness sucking him back in for every thrust. Feel your sweaty skin slide and stick against his and whine at the pulling sensation when you peel apart.
Another sudden idea pops into his brain and it’s almost instinctual how he follows it. Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to complain about being brain-blasted with memories that aren’t his if it means not having to hear Sukuna’s voice while fucking you.
Hips never falter in their snaps up into you, Yuuji cranes his neck to teeth at the meat of your nape. He bites possessively and grunts in response to your immediate pitchy moan. Then licking over the marks apologetically.
You try to smother down your breathless moans as Yuuji bullies his cock repeatedly into that spongy spot shooting stars behind your eyes. With an angle and drive and care you’re sure would be lost on any man other than Yuuji - and you’re dumbly struck by the hope that maybe this hard work is only because he’s here with you. And that coherent thought is fucked out of you with Yuuji’s next whimpered request.
“Don’t do that,” he gasps when you tighten around him after a particularly rough thrust, “Please don’t keep it down- wanna…” he moans and the sound flutters straight to your tightening gut, “Wanna hear you so bad, pretty girl.”
Unlatching your teeth from the plush of your bottom lip, flames lap through the wiry twists of your veins - burning through the stretch of your skin and scarring Yuuji. And he eats it up and greedily begs at your feet for more. It shames Sukuna just as much as it excites him to taste the salt on your skin through his vessel’s tongue and watch the way your legs shake and bounce under his vessel’s iron hold. His favorite way to have you and your favorite way to take him.
Yuuji unwinds one of his arms from behind your neck, lowering half your body slightly to swipe his fingers between the junction of your thighs. Right over the slippery spot where you’re creaming on his cock and taking the soaked fingers to your clit. His canines and soft lips battle for a monopoly of your neck and shoulder, swiftly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers as his hips continue fucking you stubbornly.
“Hng, Yuu…!” you gasp, head throwing back and narrowly missing his - the coil winding tighter and tighter and your walls milking Yuuji tighter and tighter, “Yuuji!”
“I know, baby,” he kisses up your bent neck and presses his flaming cheek against yours, “God, please, cum for me. Cum for me,” his hips stutter, and his breath hitches and oh, he’s so close, “I wanna feel you cum on me, baby- I need it. Need it so bad.”
“Oh, Yuuji,” you dig your face closer to his as if trying to meld yourselves into one body, “‘m cumming,” you clench and he’s damn near wheezing, the knot in his lower belly popping as he feels you cum and drips down his balls, “‘m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”
And just to avoid embarrassing himself from admitting he’s in love with you while spitting his own cum in your warm, wet walls, Yuuji strangles down his own final cries with a coppery, abusive bite to his bottom lip.
It starts to hurt, how he overstimulates himself through his slowing thrusts - letting you slip down onto his thrumming, sticky chest. Your legs sprawled across his sides, Yuuji slipping his softening cock from your hole.
You lazily roll off of Yuuji, landing face-first into your sheets at his side.
Yuuji can hear it again, that terrible, grating voice telling him, “Clean her, brat.”
And what’s the most terrible is he knows Sukuna’s command is entirely warranted. Flopping a hand onto your back, Yuuji traces heart shapes into the skin as he talks, “I’ll be right back.”
And when Yuuji’s wetting a soft, clean cloth he braved the hallway (nude) to retrieve from his room, he hears that voice again. It echoes in your bathroom.
“I want a turn when she’s awake,” a pause, “Fully awake.”
“Aren’t you charitable?” Yuuji rolls his eyes.
And that same utterance from hours before rings through Yuuji’s ears once again. Why Sukuna cared so much about petty crushes. Why Sukuna bothered himself by actually giving genuine, helpful points. Why Sukuna was fascinated by you.
“She was my most devoted and favorite lover in her past life.”
The way he says it inspires no respect for Yuuji - underlined in his thriving desire to be worshiped, as he imagines he deserves. Yuuji wouldn’t dare uphold you to that.
When he tenderly presses his thumbs into stiff muscles with a red flush and warm smile, Yuuji knows that for sure.
“Can I stay the night?” he whispers, folding his discarded towels and lazily tucking them by your bedpost on the floor. He feels that same hurried ache in his chest, awaiting for your impatience.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
You hum, lifting your head off the pillow and snickering, your drowsy face pinched to look at him like he’s stupid, “Duh.”
Giddy, Yuuji slips under the blankets he’d slid over you after cleaning the mess from between your thighs, and slots himself right next to you.
Rolling again, you twist into an open space against Yuuji’s chest and under his thick arm. Warmth drapes across your shoulders when he rests that arm over you. He circles his other arm around you and squeezes, grinning so hard he can feel it burning in the balls of his cheeks. Your ear rests against Yuuji’s chest, and you soothe yourself to slumber on the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Blissfully unaware of the fact that when your bones are rotten and six feet deep, two more people will be curled into each other’s arms. With your same starry eyes that some pink-haired kid falls in love with every time they’re on him.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#yuuji x reader#yuuji smut#yuuji fluff#yuji x reader#yuji itadori#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori smut#yuji itadori fluff#and sukuna too i guess
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“Whore.”
You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.
They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.
It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.
You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.
The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.
First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.
Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.
Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.
You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.
Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s only a modicum better than wanting you dead.
You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.
You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.
You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist got snapped in half a few seconds later.
Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.
After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.
“Can I go outside?”
You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.
“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”
You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.
“Alright.”
“What?”
“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”
You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.
The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.
“Your tea, mistress.”
Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.
It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.
“Whore.”
Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.
Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.
That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.
Shit.
You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.
Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.
You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.
“[Name].”
Shit. Shit!
He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.
“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.
“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?
He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.
“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”
Oh.
“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.
He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.
You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.
You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.
The kiss ends soon after it begins.
“Get some rest. You look bad.”
You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.
The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.
Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.
The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.
It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.
You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.
“Are you awake?”
You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.
Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”
Something wet hits the bed.
“2:57 AM.”
Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.
“Oh. Okay.”
Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“… Yes.”
Another.
You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”
“I don’t think so.”
Another drip, this time it hits your arm.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.
“No.”
The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all to familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.
“How long were the help bothering you?”
“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.
“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”
A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.
“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.
Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.
“Go to sleep.”
You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.
Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.
#tw yandere#tw.yandere#yandere#yanderecore#yandere illumi zoldyck#yandere illumi x reader#yandere illumi#yandere hxh#yandere hxh x reader#tw implied noncon#implied noncon#tw noncon#tw vomit#tw vomit mention#tw angst#tw pregnancy mention#tw pregnancy
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arguing with ellie n it goes too far
idk if this has been done but um be ready y’all i’m bouta cry
warnings- guys this is kinda sad um, angst, arguing, crying ig, ellie being easily agitated n mean, mentions of death, reader comfort el at the end guys trust!!
“el what’s wrong?” you ask as sweetly as you can. worried about how your girlfriend has been ignoring you and other people all week. she’s just been in her own little world writing and drawing the days away. every now and then you heard little sniffles coming from her direction but choose to ignore it; thinking she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but it’s only been getting worse day by day.
she ignored your question again. flinching at your touch and cursing herself in her head for that.
“ellie please talk to me, i made you some food” you comfort once again, reaching out to brush out some tangles in her hair with your fingers.
“i don’t want it.” ellie mumbles out coldy. not even taking her attention away from her drawing.
“okay well i’ll leave it here in case you change your mind okay?” you kiss ellie’s head and unintentionally glance at her sketchbook. somehow she notices and slams it shut. pushing you away from her as well.
“cant you just leave me alone for two seconds?” ellie snaps. her tone of voice taking you by surprise.
“el— i’m sorry i didn’t look—“ you fumble your words. not knowing whether to look at the closed sketchbook or your angry girlfriend.
“i don’t care stop hovering over me constantly, i’m fine stop worrying.” ellie stands up to walk past you but not before you stop her.
“how am i supposed to know you’re fine? you certainly don’t seem fine when you haven’t even had a conversation with me in days!” ellie turns to look at you and you swear her eye contact with you could kill, you forget how mean she can look without trying to.
“drop it i don’t wanna argue with you” she trys walking away again but you grab her wrist.
“please talk to me, what’s wrong??” you beg, and lift your hand to push strands of her hair away from her face.
although ellie pushes your hand away, not roughly though, her touch is still soft unlike her words, “don’t fucking touch me just leave me alone i don’t want to be anywhere around you, just go.”
it hasn’t been the first time ellie had snapped at you like this and said awful things she didn’t mean. for some reason it’s in her nature to just lock away her feelings and attack anyone who tries to push their way in. unfortunately today you seem to be her victim. and after a year of being in love with her, you know her very well by now.
“you really want me to go ellie? cause i’ll go but who’s gonna be taking care of you like i am right now?” you raise your voice at her while picking up things of yours from around her room.
ellie just watches as you pick up your items. sitting there with a lil pout on her lips not saying a word as you stuff more stuff in a bag. but before you can even touch the doorknob to leave she stands up, “wait..” she whispers, if you listened carefully enough you would’ve heard her voice cracking.
“what is it?” you ask rather harshly. opening the door and stepping outside.
ellie panics, her eyes widening and her legs unintentionally making their way towards you in a rush, “wait don’t go” she whimpers.
only then do you turn to see ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her panicked expression. her tough angry demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. n that pout on her lips turned into quivering lips.
your own eyes soften at the sight. you can’t help but feel the pain and guilt for making her cry but you knew she needed a wake up call. you needed to let her know you won’t stand there and just take her hits.
“oh el i’m so sorry” you bring her in for a hug. letting her burry her face in your neck and squeeze you into her hold.
“n-no i’m so sorry i—shouldn’t have been so mean to you. don’t leave me” ellie hiccups and sniffles between her crys. getting your neck all wet with her tears and snot but you don’t mind.
“i’m not leaving you baby i just needed to teach you a little lesson i’m so sorry” you leave kisses all over her hair and scratch her back as she calms herself down.
lifting her head up, you kiss her cheek that’s all flushed and puffy n lead her back to bed. cuddling her and forcing her be little spoon.
a comfortable silence over takes you too as you just lay together, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” you whisper breaking the silence.
you feel ellie take a deep breath and intertwine your hands together, “it’s— around the time of joel’s death date, i think that’s why i’m being like this.”
“i’m so sorry ellie” you try and comfort but you know there’s not much you can say or do to make her feel better about it other than being here with her like this.
“can you scratch my back? it felt good earlier,” ellie smiles at you as she asks the question.
“of course, c’mere” you sit up and let ellie lay onto of you as you lift her shirt up to scratch her back until she falls asleep <33
free palestine !!
#ellie#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams fic#the last of us#ellie angst#ellie fluff#ellie x fem reader#ellie x masc reader#ellie fanfic
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if the door wasn’t shut
▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader
▹— summary: months of travelling with joel and ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.
▹— a/n: i don’t like the second half of this one D: but i made you guys wait long enough so i apologise!!! been super busy so this is v rushed but i hope you enjoy nonetheless
▹— warnings: angst, loss of loved ones, tlou ep 5/6 spoilers, father figure joel, reader is really scared, not proofread
masterlist | PART TWO
howl’s song associations!
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Had you known that those days in Boston QZ would’ve been the last peaceful ones for a long time, you think you might’ve treasured them more. Held them closer, let the edges sharpen when you thought of them, rather than seeing only blurred images, the memories faded.
You wouldn’t have believed it if somebody had told you. The life you lived in Boston was flawed, at best, but it was your life. Filled with violence and bloodshed, sure, but there were things you could control. Things that Joel and Tess had always made sure you could control.
Out in the wide world, the facade of control that the two adults had always kept up crumbled to dust in your hands, lost to Infected and hunters and shelters in the strangest places.
It was a difficult shift in your reality, and you tried to hide it from Joel. He had already given you so much, hell, he and Tess had provided you with a home, even when they had no obligation to do so. You owed them more than your life.
When you had met Ellie, you immediately disliked her. She grated on you, her biting words and humorous comments doing nothing but fueling your growing dislike of her. She was childish — she acted her age, showed her fear, and it was something you just couldn’t understand. You were far too used to closing down the emotion behind your eyes, to shutting away all of your baggage in a box deep in your mind.
It had worn you down, eventually. Hating her was much harder than you expected it to be, especially when she looked at you for the understanding she knew you possessed. You even watched as Joel softened up to her, far faster than he had done with you, and you couldn’t help but follow in his example, as you always tried to do.
Hushed conversations when following Joel’s tense figure, something young passing over you, something that had seemed so… far away. You had always thought that bonds like this could only exist in the world before your own, trust Ellie to prove you wrong.
But one gained friendship didn’t quite make up for all the losses. It was Tess, to start with. Something that had singed your lungs and left you breathing the smoke, something of choked words leaving you when she had revealed the bite on her shoulder. She had looked at you, that understanding passing through her eyes, grief for a life she wouldn’t get to live. You understood the gaze far more than you wanted to, and you knew that the burns scarring your insides wouldn’t fade for a very long time.
Then, it was finding out that Bill and Frank were gone.
It seemed wrong. Something so untouchable, so guarded, how could it possibly be gone? You couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand how the few people you valued seemed to be dropping away before your very eyes, faster than you could even reach for them.
The journey seemed pointless to you, after that.
Though you felt for Ellie, that selfishness that had always been drilled into you rushed in, drowning out the empathy towards her cause. It left you with something empty inside of your chest, and you couldn’t figure out a way to fill it. You weren’t sure you wanted to.
It only got worse.
Warm days turned colder, the nights going to something nearby freezing, and then there was the events of Kansas City. You had been so sure Joel was going to die, that you and Ellie would follow soon after, that you couldn’t move. Your legs seemed frozen to the spot, and even as you heard the struggle in the other room, it didn’t quite register.
It was only when Ellie managed to get Joel through to the room you were hidden in that you managed to snap out of your fear-induced haze. Your eyes were cloudy, and after that, it was so hard to focus.
You and Ellie had found some comfort when Sam showed up alongside his older brother, Henry. They were a breath of fresh air in the hellscape of a city, and for once, you witnessed true childhood. Saw it in the way Sam scribbled on his board, in the way he laughed at whatever Ellie had written on it. It was contagious, almost.
That was probably the happiest you had been since leaving Boston, and it all fell apart so quickly. Like the first sparks of a fire squandered by the downpour of a storm.
You can’t even remember much of it. Not the big parts, anyway. You remember the little things, like the colour of Sam’s hoodie, or the splinters you got from the floorboards as you fell backwards, scrambled away from the only semblance of childhood you’d ever had. You remember looking to Henry, something in your chest begging to be let out, but choking on it before it could escape. Your remember the sound of something splattering against the wall, and you remember Joel touching your arm after the burial.
Everything was blurring together, but one thing stood out; that overwhelming fear that threatened to sweep you away with every sound you heard, every flash of movement in darkness, every loss you witnessed.
Each day it became harder to shake away the haze to your eyes, harder to feel something other than scared, harder to close that box in your brain and leave those big feelings in there. It became so prevalent, all of it weighing you down, pressing tightly against your shoulders, and somewhere along the line you knew that Joel and Ellie had noticed.
Whether it was your withdrawn behaviour, or the gaping hole ripped into your chest, you weren’t entirely sure. But they knew. Perhaps not to the extent that you believed them to, but they knew something wasn’t quite right.
And now it was the cold threatening to take the three of you — it was freezing the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, and you really weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It had been months since Henry and Sam, but it felt like it had been both no time at all, yet so far away. Everything still felt so raw, so fresh, despite time passing as normally as ever.
Joel had somehow managed to find winter supplies for the three of you, consisting of a coat and gloves, a hat that you let Ellie take. It was enough to keep you all alive, but it didn’t stop the chill seeping into your very bones, making it feel all the more harder to keep going.
It got to the point where you just didn’t want to. Couldn’t.
“Come on,” Joel said, your name falling from him as he patted your shoulder, all of his supplies already packed up, “Time to go.”
Getting up seemed impossible, so you didn’t. Just let your eyes glaze over and watched as Joel and Ellie grabbed their weapons, glancing outside of the cabin you’d taken refuge in. Joel looked back to you, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you hadn’t packed up any of your things, hadn’t even moved.
He looked at Ellie, frowning when she noticed, too. He made his way over, crouching down with aching knees, and placed a hand on your shoulder.
“Kid, we gotta get moving.” Joel said, shaking your shoulder the slightest to gather your attention. You just looked at him, shaking your head. “C’mon. We don’t have time for this.”
“I don’t wanna go anymore, Joel.” You told him, finally admitting the words that sounded so much like defeat. You hated that the world had won, but you were so tired of fighting that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but lose.
Joel shook his head, eyebrows creasing, an expression close to dumbfounded crossing his face. He couldn’t understand.
“We’re closer than we’ve ever been!” Ellie said encouragingly, the biggest smile she could muster on her face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in her direction, instead looking down to where your fingers pulled at the loose threads on your sleeping bag.
“I can’t,” You said, much closer to tears than you had even realised. “I can’t keep doing this. Joel, I wanna go home.”
His frown just deepened, uncertainty present in every feature on his face. Joel didn’t know how to handle this, and there really wasn’t that much time to do so.
“Kid…” He sighed, before sitting down properly beside you with a pained breath.
“No, Joel, I— I want to go back. I want all of this to go away. I want Tess.” You admitted, heart pounding so hard just at the mention of the woman you had lost, and it was painful. Your chest aches the more you thought about it, and there was the realisation that you were homesick. Though you weren’t sure if that’s as for Boston, or for Tess.
“There is no goin’ back, kiddo. Tess… she’s gone. Nothin’ we can do about it.” Joel said, taking a moment to steady the shake in his voice after saying her name. It was just as painful for him as it was for you.
“I’m… I’m scared.” You confessed, voice barely a whisper, but it echoed around the empty walls of the cabin. The confession almost scared Joel, he knew you preferred to keep everything locked tightly, never admitting to the fear he knew was there. “All the time,” You continued, lips trembling around the words, “And it’s all I can think about. I can’t keep doing this. Every time we meet something I just get so scared, I can’t move, can’t speak.”
“It’s okay to be scared—” Joel tried.
“No, it’s not! It’s like I’m frozen, and every time, I lose someone. I can’t watch you guys die. I can’t do it.” You cut him off, the tears falling from your eyes as you looked at Joel.
He couldn’t do much more than frown, unsure how he could fix something like this. He knew the feeling more than you could imagine, so familiar it was the clearest thing he could remember. Joel had felt this way for years, but he was an adult. He had people relying on him, he couldn’t shut down in the way he knew you wanted to.
“We’re not gonna die,” Joel said, hesitantly. It was stupid to make promises in this world, especially when danger and the unknown lurked around every corner. “We’re all goin’ to be just fine. Listen to me, kid, we’re gonna get this done, and then we’re all gonna find somewhere, no infected, and we’ll just live. But we need to get through this, first.”
You shook your head, turning away from him, and he glanced to where Ellie stood, the guilt flooded onto her face.
“You two listenin’?” Joel asked, beginning to pick up your things and shove them into your backpack. “We’re getting close now. It’s almost over. Got nothin’ to worry about.”
“He’s right,” Ellie said, quietly, passing Joel something to put in your bag. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They packed up your things around you, Joel grabbing your arms to help you to your feet, and Ellie linked arms with you as soon as you were up. Together, they managed to get you out of the cabin, back out into the cold.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
You had been so sure that one of you was going to die when the people on horses showed up, guns trained on each of you in turn. You thought it was going to be Joel when he shoved you and Ellie behind him, his head spinning around, taking count of the people who were a danger to you.
Then, they brought out their dog, and your heart stopped when they directed it towards Ellie. It was going to be her, you were almost sure of it, thought that it would get a whiff of something from the bite scarred over her forearm.
You held your breath for a long time, not able to let it go even when the dog settled, playing happily with Ellie. Surely, these people would shoot you, regardless. They certainly didn’t seem very friendly.
But no, they were taking you back to their town, with you and Joel sharing a horse while Ellie rode on her own. You’d never ridden on a horse, and before, you may have enjoyed the experience, but you could only feel that suffocating fear that made you choke on your words, so scared that these people were taking you to their town just to kill you. Or worse. You’d heard of people who do worse.
You couldn’t get the words out to express your concern to Joel, forced to stay silent and cling on to him as the three of you made your way past the walls, surrounded by strangers. You shared a look with Ellie, that nervous understanding shared between the two of you once more.
Your fingers twitch, aching to wrap around your gun, but that was the first thing these people had taken. Then it was your knife. And then the axe Joel had you storing in the side of your bag. It didn’t help that helpless feeling, that fear clogging your throat.
Joel’s tense frame loosens suddenly, something like relief sinking into his bones as he shouts, “Tommy!” A man immediately looking up from where he was stood atop of some scaffolding. Joel slides off of the horse, handing the reigns to you, before meeting his brother halfway in a tight hug.
Ellie frowns, and you understand the furrow to her brows as you looked at Joel and his brother. He was all the two of you had.
The two of you stick together as you follow Joel to wherever his brother is leading the three of you, sharing nervous glances and only just about relaxing when you’re seated with hot meals in front of you.
You did your best to tune as much of the conversation out as possible, even ignoring Joel’s comment about slowing down, as you shoved as much food as you could into your mouth while the opportunity was there. After all, who knew how long this would last?
Ellie kicked your leg when Tommy mentioned about a tour, the two of you reluctantly leaving your plates behind to follow the three adults. Maria went on with her touring speech, talking about when and how they settled in the town, with Tommy pitching in about the shared resources. It was only when she talked about separating you and Ellie from Joel that your attention was really caught.
“Joel.” You said, urgency in your voice, a pleading look sent his way as he wrung his hands together, his brother already heading in his direction.
“You’ll be fine.” He said to you and Ellie, nodding in your direction and missing the look of defeat you and Ellie shared as he walked away.
“Shall we?” Maria asked, looking between you and Ellie. She was half-turned away already, but caught the way you both gazed nervously at Joel’s turned back. The two of you nodded, following behind her as she made her way through the town, clearly as familiar to her as the back of her hand.
Ellie answered all of Maria’s idle questions whilst walking alongside her, though her answers were slightly withdrawn. It comforted you, even the slightest bit, to know that you weren’t the only one who was feeling distrustful towards this place. That you weren’t the only one on edge.
Maria opened the door to the house you, Ellie and Joel were meant to be staying in, swatting a hand in front of her face as dust rose up from the untouched surfaces.
“Homely.” Ellie commented, stepping around Maria to peek into the living room, and then the kitchen, whilst you remained beside the door with Maria.
“It’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm. And it’s got running water.” Maria said, despite this being more than any of you had had in a very long time. She smiled tightly at you, head dipping as she looked around. “Make yourselves at home.”
“When do I get my gun back?” You asked, probably the most you had spoken since your slight… outburst at the cabin, just a few days prior.
“Kids ‘round here aren’t armed. Nobody is.” Maria answered, eyebrows creased as she looked at you.
“Right, well I’m not a part of your commune, or whatever, so I want back what’s mine.” You replied, with more heat to the words than would’ve been considered respectful. You couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, though, because how were you meant to defend yourselves if you had no weapons? Especially considering Maria clearly didn’t want Joel here, and by extension, you and Ellie.
Maria sighed, a slight exhale from her nose, and you stepped away from her, looking towards Ellie, who stared right back at you with something nervous in her gaze. “We’ll talk about all this later, okay? How about you guys go take a shower, and I’ll grab you some new clothes.”
Ellie nodded, practically leaping up the stairs, and you heard doors slamming open until she finally found the bathroom, yelling an: “Aha!”
“There’s just the one shower in this house, but if you wanna have one now, mine and Tommy’s house is just across the street.” Maria offered, kindly.
“I’d rather wait.” You replied, voice snappier than you expected it to be, but you bounded up the stairs and flopped down in the first room you found.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Ellie had taken forever in the shower, so it was a while before you finally took your turn. As much as you hated to admit it, the warm water cleared away much of your bitterness towards this place. It felt good. Finally being clean, properly clean, after going so long living off of what little you could take when travelling across the country. You hadn't had a shower like this since Bill and Frank’s — and you hated thinking of it.
Maria had been around earlier, bringing two piles of clothes hanging in each arm, dumping them on the bed outside of the bathroom Ellie had been showering in. You hadn’t acknowledged her, so she had nodded and left quickly.
You didn’t exactly enjoy feeling like you owed anybody anything, but you had to admit that slipping on the clean clothes that Maria had left felt good. Wearing the long sleeved t-shirt underneath a thick jumper was probably the warmest you’d been in a long time, not that you would’ve admitted that to anybody.
The small part of you that had been numbed for the past few weeks began to thaw, and you felt almost embarrassed of how you had treated Maria earlier on — despite you having every right to act in such a manner. So, with a huffed breath of annoyance, you decided to follow the note the woman had left, and made your way across the street.
She had shouted to come in almost as soon as you had knocked, and you opened the door hesitantly.
The first thing you noticed was the sound of hair scissors, and it sent a pang through your chest. Then you heard Maria and Ellie chatting, and followed the noise. The chalkboard in her living room caught your eye, and you frowned as you passed by it.
“What’s going on?” You asked, eyebrows drawn together as you stepped into the room to see Ellie putting up her short hair.
“Just a trim,” Maria said, waving the scissors in her hand, “You’re up next.”
She noticed the way you tensed, drawing your arms back up towards your chest as your eyebrows furrowed further. It was defensive, the way you immediately curled in on yourself.
“No, no, I— I don’t want my hair cut.” By you were the words missing from the sentence, going unsaid but not unheard as one of your hands reached up to hold onto the too-long ends of your hair. They were splintering, and unhealthy, but you couldn’t do it.
The last person to cut your hair had been Tess — a memory you treasured, held so close that it almost hurt to think about. It was one of those things that had come naturally at the time, but felt so taken for granted once Tess was gone. You could remember the evenings so clearly, one of the only times that she allowed herself to come across as something almost maternal.
It would feel like you were betraying her, her memory, to allow someone else to take scissors to your hair. It was a job that belonged to Tess, and Tess only. You pretended it didn't hurt, the length your hair had grown. She would’ve never let it get this long.
Maria frowned, but seemed to take your defensive words and body language for a good enough answer. She placed the scissors on the counter, an act of truce, if you had ever seen one.
“Okay,” She said, hands up in surrender, before she reached to the counter and grabbed the coat that had been laid there. “Here, put this on. We’re going to the movies.”
You had no choice but to do so, tugging the coat on and resorting to holding it closed with your arms folded across your chest when your fingers trembled on the zipper. Ellie glanced at you with a frown, and checked you were following her and Maria out of the door, just huffing out a small sigh as you closed the door behind you, hurrying to catch up.
Sitting around a bunch of kids was one of the weirdest things to happen to you. You’d spent most of your life surrounded by only Joel and Tess, occasionally Bill and Frank, hell — Ellie was the first person your age that you’d really spoken to. After everything the two of you had been through, being surrounded by children felt much stranger to you than being surrounded by adults.
You could understand adults, to a certain extent. Kids… were a different story. So transfixed on the movie projected on the wall ahead, which you couldn’t understand. You felt vulnerable, sat in the middle of the room. Out of the loop, even, as adults watched and chatted around the edges of the room.
It was why you went to find Maria whilst Ellie followed Tommy out of the place, confused on why she had brought you here. “What am I meant to be doing here?” You asked her, when you finally found her standing to the side, gazing at the movie.
“We’re at the movies,” She laughed, saying your name, “You’re meant to be watching the movie.”
“Why?” You asked, incredulously, because how did this help anybody? Watching fake people in an image against the wall might’ve fascinated you, but you were nervous. Paranoid. At any moment, they could have people breaking into the town, knocking down the walls, anything… so why waste time and people watching a movie? To you, it would’ve made more sense to have more of these people stationed as guards.
“Entertainment,” Maria offered, moving from where she had been leaning against the half-wall. “Whatever you wanna call it. You’re not out in the wilderness, anymore. You’re safe. Take some time, enjoy the film.” She told you, and you hated the sympathy that she held in her gaze.
You moved to say something, but followed Maria’s gaze to see Tommy walking back through the doors. Without another word to her, you were shoving your way through the crowd and pushing the door open, back out into the cold air.
By the time you found your way to the house on Rancher Street, both doors at the top of the stairs were tightly shut. You frowned, unsure why they would’ve shut them, and made your way up to the room Ellie was in.
“Ellie?” You whispered into the darkness of the room, seeing her turned away from the door as she lay on the bed. She was still, and remained quiet. With a sigh, you closed the door and crossed the hall, opening Joel’s door with the same results.
You tiptoed back downstairs, frowning as you laid a blanket across the couch, swatting the dust that rose to the air.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Waking up to an empty house stirred the panic that you had been storing away. You felt frantic as you tumbled up the stairs, ripping the covers away from the unmade beds as if Ellie or Joel could’ve been hiding beneath them. But finding nothing just made everything so much worse, because what if you were right all along?
Anybody could’ve come into the house, caught the two of them off guard, and what could they have done? All of your weapons were taken from you, which meant no defence, and no deterrent.
You were ripping the kitchen apart before you could think to do much else, pulling drawers out and sending the dusty contents crashing to the floor. In the end, you found nothing of use — the sharp cutlery had long since been taken, leaving dust in the empty compartment that should’ve held knives.
Your last resort was the plate you had smashed against the counter, leaving a dent in the material upon impact. Blood trickled down your cheek from a minuscule cut, the result of a tiny piece of ceramic. You grabbed the sharpest piece of the plate in a gloved hand, and marched out of the front door.
Upon entering Tommy and Maria’s house, you were greeted with nothing but silence, despite the impact the door had made against the wall when you had opened it. A small piece of paper on their kitchen counter caught your eye, and you snatched it up.
Going to the stables first thing. Love you - Tommy.
The edge of the paper was crinkled, and you figured that Maria must’ve seen it already.
Your run to the stables was frantic, and not at all subtle. People stared as you practically sprinted across the town, almost slipping on patches of ice that blended in with the snow. “Slow down, girl!” Somebody had shouted at you as you passed, but you just gripped the sharp ceramic tighter, barely feeling the way it had begun to tear at your glove.
“Joel, Ellie!” You shouted, almost hysterically, as you finally saw the two of them. Ellie was already sat upon a horse, holding the reins as Joel spoke to his brother. They both turned to face you as you approached, an almost defeated look matching each other’s expressions. “What—What’s going on?” You asked, stumbling into Joel and feeling him grasp on to your shoulders to get you to finally stop.
Joel shared a look with Tommy, who looked back at him with what was almost sympathy.
“Kid, I…” He sighed, rubbing a gloved hand down his face as his speech trailed off.
“What?” You snapped, gripping the ceramic tighter.
“Listen to me,” Joel said, his hand squeezing your shoulder as he said the words. “Me and Ellie are heading to the University—”
“Let—Let me grab my bag.” You told him, trying to turn away but feeling his grip tighten before he turned you back to face him, a bracing expression on his face. He looked almost pained.
“You’re not listening!” He told you, sounding far too close to frustration. “Me and Ellie. Not you.” He repeated, watching carefully the way your furrowed eyebrows fell, something so similar to grief presenting itself in the way your whole expression fell apart.
You looked to Ellie, only to find her gaze averted, and shook your head as you turned back to Joel. “What? You’re— You’re what? Leaving me behind?”
“It’s not fair for us to ask you to—”
You cut him off, stumbling back and away from his hands, and watched as they fell from the air where they had held on to you. “It’s not fair?” You asked, trembling from something other than the cold as you looked at the only man you had ever trusted.
The ceramic in your palm fell to the ground, fibres of your glove clinging to the edges of it. Joel frowned.
“Not fair?” You repeated, at the sound of their silence. “You know what’s not fair, Joel?” You questioned, stepping forward to push your hands against his chest, feeling your chest ache when he did nothing to stop you. “Following you two, all this way, just for you to fucking abandon me!”
“We’re not abandoning you!” Ellie said, then, her voice sounding just as childish as the words did. Because if they weren’t abandoning you, what were they doing? They hadn’t even said goodbye — if it weren’t for you running out here, after waking up to find them gone, you might have never even seen them again.
“Yes, you are!” You yelled at here, feeling your throat clog up as your vision went cloudy, “And after everything…—”
You stared between them, waiting for them to have a response, but neither of them did.
“I lost everything, following you here. Everything! It’s all gone. Tess…” You trailed off, feeling tears bubble at the corners of your eyes as you said her name. It was a betrayal, more than anything. If it weren’t for this whole adventure, Tess would’ve been alive. Bill and Frank, maybe not, but Tess.
“That ain’t fair, kiddo, we—”
“None of this has been fair. None of it! And you—you were just going to fucking leave me! How’s that for fair?” You asked desperately, despite knowing that no answer they could give would be what you wanted. All of your fear over losing them, it had never considered that they may leave of their own accord.
Maria said your name, approaching from behind you, and you didn't flinch when she placed a hand on your shoulder. You missed the pain on Joel’s face at the way you allowed her to comfort you, but had moved away from his attempts. She pulled you a step back from him, and another, until she finally turned you away as your tears spilled over.
Tommy shook his head when Joel made a move to follow the two of you, and you pretended not to notice their gazes on you as they strode by.
“How could they just…” Your voice broke off at the edges, and you felt the haze to your eyes returning as you looked at Maria, the realisation that you were alone hitting you harder than any of your fear ever had. That was fear; a possibility of what could happen, whereas this… this was reality.
And your reality was that nobody loved you enough to stay.
PART TWO
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller angst#joel miller father figure#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#tlou imagines#tlou one shot#joel miller platonic#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x you#heartpascal writes
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SHADOW IS WRITTEN SO WELL IN THE MURDER OF SONIC THE HEDGEHOG!!
First of all, just him showing up to Amy’s party is a step up from his recent “I will do everything myself, I hate everyone, imma fight you” attitude that we have seen. Secondly, and idk if it was intentional, but him attending shows he cares about Amy. He’s always had a special place for her after the events of SA2, so it’s nice to see him showing up for something that maybe isn’t his style for her sake. (Parties aren’t really his thing, after all.)
SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT
It’s also really sweet of him to go through so many lengths to try and get Amy’s present. I definitely don’t think he forgot to get her a present, he genuinely just didn’t seem to know that it was a social norm to bring presents to a birthday. If he really didn’t care, he either wouldn’t have gotten her anything or he would’ve given her a rushed gift. But no, he went through a lot of effort, basically foregoing the game, just to stall Amy so he could get her a present she would enjoy.
And not just any present - he remembered her mentioning a specific band she liked and that she hadn’t seen them live. This not only suggests he listens to her and remembers what she tells him, but also implies that he has had multiple conversations with her. Clearly he must have also done some research too since he knew that the tickets were going live soon. He thought this through, even if it was a bit last minute, and did his best to get the tickets (even though he admits to not being the best with computers, which is also nice because usually Shadow just insists he’s the best at everything). I also think it was sweet that he didn’t heavily protest Amy’s suggestion to see the band together. He hesitated, but then yielded. This…for a character who recently has been written to be quite selfish.
He seemed upset that he couldn’t keep this a surprise, but he also didn’t become enraged or lash out at Tails and MC/Barry. In fact, he didn’t really lash out at anyone at any point which is refreshing, since in most Sonic media that’s his go-to emotion.
Most of his expressions throughout the game are fairly gentle in fact. Sure, he doesn’t smile, but he also isn’t actively angry. And the one expression where he does seem a bit negative just seems like his resting expression, or at absolute worse just a little annoyed. He’s very mellow throughout the game and it’s refreshing.
Even after he has finished talking to Amy, Tails and MC/Barry, he offers to stay with them and help them with the investigation. Normally in Sonic media, Shadow has no interest in helping others and only really cooperates if there’s a mutual goal/interest. And even then, he tends try to do things on his own. But in this game? He actually cooperates, and what’s more, he goes out of his way to offer his help.
So far I’ve mostly talked about his attitude towards Amy. But what’s his attitude towards Sonic? People debate back and forth on whether Shadow hates Sonic and the recent games and media have made it seem like he does hate Sonic. But in this game? I wouldn’t say so. I mean, he’s literally hanging out with him and his friends and instead of having beef with Sonic, he just focused on making Amy happy. And even when the situation gets more dire and Sonic is found to be knocked out, he doesn’t make any snarky comments or anything. In fact, he actually helps to tend to Sonic’s condition, even if it was just checking his pulse. If he rly didn’t care, he would’ve left it to everyone else.
Man, I could talk for hours about Shadow in this game. I can’t believe this April Fools prank game is actually the best characterisation for Shadow we’ve had recently. He’s not overly aggressive, he isn’t selfish, he isn’t super edgy. He is still sorta cold, but he’s not rude or mean. He’s actually really kind (in his own way), putting his needs and desires on hold to make Amy’s birthday fun and to help everyone out. I seriously hope that Shadow is written more like this in the future and not like he has been. Maybe Sega wasn’t joking about taking on board the complaints of the fandom.
#welcome to Nagi rambles way too seriously about an April Fools day prank#sorry I’m not the best at explaining what I mean but I love how he is in this game#I love this game way more than I thought I would#shadow#shadow the hedgehog#sonic the hedgehog#the murder of sonic the hedgehog#tmosth#character analysis#analysis#nagichi talks#posts that popped off#long post
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For poly!marauders request (I saw you asked for some) could you do one where the reader faints out of nowhere and the boys get all panicked and worried and fret over her? 🌙
Hii! Thank you for the great request🫶🏻 It’ll be the first time I do a Poly!Marauder fic so pls do bear with me, I tweaked it a bit, hope you enjoy!
Worried Sick
Pairings: Poly!Marauders x Reader
CW: Mentions of toxic habits, Sirius being an arse, reader fainting, and language.
To say that you were tired would be an understatement. You were exhausted- mentally, and physically as you were buried in a mountain of books, flipping through almost a hundred pages an hour as you tried to juggle three essays and review for NEWTS all at once.
You were so immersed in your studying, the sound of pages flipping and scratching of the quill against parchment made you slip into a hyper-focused mode that you don’t notice the passage of time making you effectively miss lunch and dinner.
“There’s my smart darling!”
Sirius grins, sneaking up to you and kissing your cheek. You jolted, looking up as you saw him, and your other boyfriends sit next to you in the library.
“Hey guys.” You try your best to muster up a cheery smile for them. Remus, who was seated beside you frowns as he notices your pale and tired face. “We haven’t seen you today, love.” You smiled sheepishly, “I was finishing up the essays we’re assigned this week.” Sirius shakes his head in a disapproving manner. “Darling, you know we could just copy off of Remus’s essay when he does it, right?” A protest from Remus was heard, making you chuckle.
“I don’t think our moony would appreciate that.” You cracked a small smile, “But he lets us copy off of his essays ever since we can remember!” James defended Sirius who nodded agreeingly.
“What we would appreciate though, is you not missing out on dinner.” Remus told you, pulling out an apple and two dishes that the house elves prepared, (bribed by James) placing it in front of you.
“Erm... I don’t really have an appetite right now, love.” You grimaced, seeing the stern expression of the werewolf. “You need to eat, darling.” James pleads, puppy eyes activating. You looked at the other two, they seemed to mirror James. “Please love, you’re making us worried sick.” Remus gently pushed the food in your direction.
“Alright then…” How could you possibly deny your adorable boyfriends?
This continued for a few days or so, each day got the boys increasingly worried than yesterday. Sleeping for four hours (five if you’re lucky) and studying all day became your new routine, you hardly even spend time with the boys anymore, only during breakfast at the great hall since you mostly skip lunch and dinner to study. If it weren’t for your friends and your boyfriends, you would’ve already starved.
You groaned, plopping down in between Remus and James, taking a bite of the toast in front of you, and ignoring the light headedness you were feeling since you woke up. Marlene looked up from her plate and winced as she took in the sight of you.
“Merlin, y/n. You look worse than a dementor.”
“Thanks Marls, appreciate it.” You grumbled, taking a swig of the pumpkin juice, grimacing as you felt that a huge gulp of the beverage and a small bite of toast was too much for your stomach to handle.
“I’m serious, when was the last time you had a good night’s rest?” She frowns, shaking her head as she gave a pointed look at your boyfriends. “There’s already three of you and you can’t even manage to take care of your girl?”
“Not my fault she chooses to stick her nose into books rather than spending time with us.” Sirius huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his dramatic and petty side surfacing. “Pads.” Remus warns, the light headedness that you’ve felt suddenly worsens as you feel the urge to throw up. Lily seemed to notice, shooting a worried glance on your way as you waved it off.
“What Moony? It’s true! It’s like she forgot she even is in a committed relationship with us.” Sirius spat, getting riled up as James tried to diffuse the situation. “Sirius, I already said I’m sorry…” She rasped out, trying to reach for his hand but he jerked it away. “Don’t be a knobhead, Pads.” Remus glares at him, irritated by how he’s acting.
Sirius rolled his eyes, it was obvious that he was hurt; You rarely spend time with them anymore, accidentally pushing them away and shutting them out just because of those stupid academics. “Whatever.” He grunts, and stands up, walking away from the table.
You felt yourself get weak; as the great hall spins around you, cold sweat started to form on your temple as spots slowly made it’s wany into your vision. Despite your body practically screaming for you to just sit and stay still, you push yourself from the benches and follow him. “Sirius, love- “He turns to you, frowning. “What now?”
You opened your mouth, about to say a word when suddenly your legs gave out, the spots grew larger as you tried to look at Sirius before your world suddenly faded to black. You heard screams from the students, the loudest ones you recognized were from your friends, especially Marlene and Lily.
“Shit!” Sirius was thankful for his awfully fast reflexes that he managed to catch you before you hit your head on the cold floor. James and Remus rushed to the both of you. “Bloody hell, Pads!” James kneels in front of you, gently tapping your cheek as a sense of urgency surrounds them. “Darling, please open your eyes, can you hear me?” James asked you, every second that ticks makes the feeling of dread in his stomach grow larger.
“P-prongs, Moony… I promise I didn’t know she was going to faint…” Sirius whimpered as he cradles you, eyes looking frazzled and darting back and forth between his lovers. James felt his breath become faster, as you didn’t respond to any of his attempts. Other students started to gather around to take a peek on what’s happening in the middle of the great hall while Marlene and the other Gryffindor students kept them from nearing. Remus knelt next to James, trying not to freak out like what the other two are already doing. He slowly placed his trembling hand on your forehead. “No fever, but we need to take her to Madame Pomfrey.” He announces, biting his lip as Sirius lifts you up bridal style, the three of them rushing you to the hospital wing.
The bright and harsh light of the hospital wing made you wince, you slowly blink, trying to adjust to the brightness of your surroundings. “Darling! You’re awake!” James tackles you into a hug, almost squeezing out the air from your lungs.
“Prongs! Be careful!” Remus’s tone was harsh, as if scolding James. The boy slowly pulled away, pouting, which Remus had ignored. “How are you, love?” Remus’s gaze softened as he looked in your direction, taking your hand in his as he rubbed circles in the back of your hand.
“For the most part, I’m fine.” You croaked out, James immediately gave you water. After taking a few sips, you let your eyes wander around, someone was missing- Where’s Sirius?
James seemed to catch on this, “He’s outside, beating himself up for being an arsehole.” You frowned, “Can you please tell him to come in? I want to see him…” You mumbled, James nodded and fetched Sirius outside of the hospital wing.
After a short while, Sirius emerged, darting his eyes anywhere but onto you. “Love…” You gently called out to him; Sirius bit his lip as he finally took in the sight of you. “Darling, I’m sorry. I was such an arse to you.” He sincerely apologized while you shake your head, “I’m sorry too, I was stressing out too much. I barely even managed to take care of myself and spend time with you guys.”
“Just don’t do it again, darling. We almost lost our minds when you fainted.” James told you as he tucks stray hair behind your ear.
“I won’t do that again; I’ll just copy off of Moony’s work.” She chuckled, glancing at the said boy, she saw the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled and rolled his eyes playfully.
The sun’s rays filtered out in the curtains of the hospital wing, encasing the four in a warm glow as they conversed amongst themselves, putting the events behind them; silently promising to love and care for each other, through thick and thin.
#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders x you#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the maruaders#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#james potter#remus lupin#sirius black#harry potter
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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟐
➯ HARRY LETS HIS FRUSTRATION GET THE BETTER OF HIM AND SOME TIME AWAY FROM Y/N HAS HIM TURNING UP AT HER DOOR TO FINALLY TELL HER HOW HE FEELS.
✰ dom!harry resolved angst. shouting. sexual content. BDSM influenced punishment. dominant and submissive dynamics. slight anal play. minors dni.
𝑤𝑐 10.7k
ッ mutually beneficial masterlist
The house doesn’t smell like curry.
And that’s the first thing he notices when he steps inside after a long day. Harry always makes a point to relish in the view of his home before he enters its threshold; warm and bathed in light—the clear signs of life pouring out of the windows and across the driveway. Y/N cradles his heart in more ways than she shall ever know but simply remembering that she is here, in his home, keeping it safe whilst he’s gone… It does irrevocable things to him.
But today, fretful from the stresses of the night before, perhaps he’ll admit that it does less to soothe his weary head as it does most days. When the only thing getting him through the workday was the promise of a beloved meal, prepared with love, steaming—waiting for him when he got home—and the scent doesn’t immediately hit him in the face… he worries. He worries for his sanity and for Y/N’s wellbeing. He worries for the words he might say on an impatient, empty stomach.
The tension between Harry’s brows radiates throughout his entire skull as he rolls out his shoulders and prepares himself for the conversation he’s going to have to have in approximately ten seconds. He can hear Y/N tottering around in the kitchen—and that almost makes it worse—that she’s in there and yet he can smell… he can smell something sweet. Something—
His feet lead him to the scent, hoping his nose is mistaken, forehead tightening at the sight he is greeted with.
“What’s this?” His cadence is concerning—unclad with his usual charming lilt—swathed in this new, murky tone of impatience. “Where’s m’dinner, sweetheart?”
Y/N twists around from her place at the sink, lips turned downwards unlike her usual welcome of a happy, relieved smile. And her reaction, Harry will later accept, is a valid one considering his complete lack of greeting—when he is usually so full of soft lilts and gentle caresses.
“Oh—hello to you too,” she scoffs, words tumbling out uncharacteristically, “‘m I your housewife, now?” And—regardless of whether Y/N had already been labelled as such by Harry’s own employees, she has a feeling his eyes would’ve darkened all the same. His immediate, deathly silence does more to terrorise her than any garish attempt at horror (although that successfully scares her too).
She’s wondered what it would take for him to have his moment. Harry’s patience has always been such a relief—the most gentle person in Y/N’s life—a trait previously severely lacking and one she now cherishes every day.
And she knows his reaction isn’t unjust. She should have made him dinner, ready to eat as soon as he stepped foot inside—just like she had promised earlier in the day. With a smile on her face. She can’t quite explain why she made a cake instead. She’d had every intention to do as she’d said, was on her way to the kitchen to get started, in fact. But then she’d opened her phone, scrolled through Pinterest for just long enough to become distracted, to forget her initial quest, and to become enamoured by a heart-shaped sponge cake instead.
Y/N understands Harry’s anger. But it’s still upsetting. She feels as though she has committed something worthy of jail time. Her stomach churns, previously dancing butterflies dispersing with a single brandishing glance over her way. They’re replaced by heavy, heavy bricks—weighing her down, immobilising her completely as she watches Harry inspect the kitchen with beady eyes.
“You made a cake?” He asks, already knowing of the answer; the evidence stares him straight in the face—accompanied by the debris—a crime scene of flour and icing sugar, bowls upon bowls filled with remnants of batter. She opens her mouth, abandoned by sound, swiftly closed when Harry continues on his own; unneeding of Y/N to have a conversation.
“Does it taste like fucking Korma, darlin’?” And she doesn’t like it—the way he weaponises the word she associates so closely to her own identity—the one he uses more than her own name. He’s upset. And it’s her fault.
“It—”
“—Don’t. Just—” he sighs, swiping his heavy palm over his forehead, “—be quiet.”
It slaps her across the face—his unwavering displeasure. She feels the heat rising, uncomfortable in her face, the stinging of her eyes uncontrollable. Harry walks around the island, sighing at the sight of his sink. She was going to clean it, she was. But that doesn’t matter now.
Y/N stands awkwardly near the doorway, stuck in place. He’s muttering, hands busying automatically, clattering indelicately—every bang and crash deafening in Y/N’s nervous state. “Cake,” he laughs flatly, “she makes fucking cake.”
She’d made it with good intentions, she swears. Everything she does is for Harry one way or another. But even Y/N can admit her timing had been astronomically off with this one. A tear trembles its way over her waterline, Harry chiding her; talking about her as if she isn’t there at all, wounding in a way that makes her feel small unlike every other time before. She swipes it away quickly but the evidence remains—a sad, salty trail.
“Leaves her mess—” a spoon is dropped unceremoniously, “everywhere,” throwing utensils into the top rack of the dishwasher with a lack of finesse. “Promises me dinner and then has the… the cheek to play the feminism card. Like it’s some… sort of punishment that I dole out.”
And then he spins around, wielding a whisk in a way that usually should diminish someone’s threat but only emphasises his anger. His eyes harden at the sight of her wet face, and he softens his words none. “You know I don’t think of you as some— some tool, some object for my own desires,” he puts the whisk into the dishwasher, before addressing her again, “but when you promise someone something, you fucking deliver, do you understand me?”
Y/N nods jerkily, more tears brimming. “I’m sorry,” she all but wails. The guilt fills her ears with a thickness—one that throws her off balance.
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She’s rendered him resigned; her dominant usually so bright and uplifting, now expelling sigh upon sigh at the mere existence of her.
“I don’t want to look at your sad little face, turn around.” Y/N lags, feet glitching over the tiles. “Face the wall—yep,” he nods at her stunned expression, indicating that he is indeed serious, “go on.”
But surely not. “Let me—” her arms reach out in front of her, asking to help. Begging to help—to clean up her own mess and let Harry sit down.
Harry shuts her down, shaking his head tersely, coming forward to turn her himself. “—In the corner…just do something good. Wipe your face—” She lets herself be manhandled, shoulders quivering silently. He nudges her knees with his own, positioning her just right—in the corner like a naughty child. “—Don’t need to see you crying.”
He’s right; he doesn’t. She fucked up, Harry deserves to be the upset one. But instead Y/N’s weeping like some sort of inadvertent guilt trip.
Without her vision, everything he does is that much louder—his mutterings now comparable to full-blown rantings. “Who needs—three fucking bowls? This isn’t masterchef, darling. You don’t need three bowls to make a cake, you don’t.” Every sound makes her body tighten up.
Y/N sniffles, “I’m sorry,” forehead drooping to rest weakly against the wall.
Harry doesn’t seem to hear her sad whimper, grumbling away to himself. But as he turns and starts wiping the island counter, he scolds her again. “Stand up straight, we’re not relaxing,” as she forces her head back up sadly, twisting her neck to apologise once more. He’s moved back to the sink, knocking the tap with his knuckle to start soaking a large, ceramic bowl. “—And quit lookin’ at me over your shoulder.”
She slinks back around, shame heating her cheeks. Her posture wilts like a sorry flower. But she can’t help but worry as he’s soaking the bowls—a remembrance of the frosting she’d made, ready to spread on her heart-shaped creation after it had cooled. She checks back over her shoulder just as he’s standing on the pedal of the bin, lid swinging up.
“No!” she cries, scrambling over to rescue the bowl from Harry’s evil clutches. He sighs, eyes roving over her doleful, wet face, but he lets her hold it.
“Why—are you crying?” He asks with such indignation. “Do you need a reason, hm? Because we can find you one,” he swipes under her eyes carelessly, murmuring something about how he ought to never make her come again. “Ridiculous,” muttering to himself as Y/N stands woefully before him—frame so much smaller than it should be. “Go upstairs. Take your—” he turns her by her shoulders, “—bowl and go upstairs. Be useful and cry elsewhere… whilst I make us dinner.”
Y/N wonders, as she sadly shuffles her feet along the floor and up the stairs, if this is the Harry his previous partners were privy to. If this is how his dominance presented—cold, harsh, and unforgiving. She can’t deny the curiosity; that if the circumstances were different that she wouldn’t be aroused at the expense of her fear. Not that she’s scared of him—she’s not. He’s not that kind of angry. But this is unexpected, and it’s unsettling. She can’t decipher the true intentions behind his words; if they’re fuelled by frustration, hunger, exhaustion… or if they’re disguised by such factors in order to portray his true feelings. Was he… irreversibly upset with her? Was he disgusted by her? Repulsed? Turned off?
She sits on the edge of his bed—the bowl is cold against her palms, heavy and sorrowful, and surely much saltier than she’d originally intended—tears dripping off her chin and into the frosting below.
She cries because she’s embarrassed, she cries because she’s failed; she’s a disappointment and a right headache. It’s why she just sits there, doing as he’d told her—to cry elsewhere. Whether or not she’s waiting for Harry, Y/N doesn’t know. Her brain sits in thick sludge inside of her skull.
Time evades her in moments like these. Her eyes gloss over, focused on one blurring point, her thoughts form with immense struggle—like someone wading through mud, picking up one foot with force, weighed down by the imprisoning filth, allowed freedom for a fraction of a second before it is submerged once more.
She sits and she stares at nothing in particular, blinking only to displace the tears that obscure her already fuzzy vision. And when Harry appears in the doorframe, it takes a lagging second or two before recognition, before her face twists slightly and a wet garbling sound dribbles its way out of her downturned mouth.
He sighs, anger replaced with exhaustion now… or simply pushed aside until another time. Harry walks towards her, movements slow; cautious like that of a person desperate to keep a placated baby sweet.
“Don’t cry, come on,” he thumbs a tear from her dewy cheek, “don’t need to cry.” His voice is softer now, Y/N is grateful. Although his caressing cadence is enough to make her emotional on most days. So it does little to cease the rapid beating of her heart or the little diamond droplets in her waterline.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she sniffles, pushing her face into the pressure of Harry’s thumb despite feeling unworthy of it.
“Okay.” It’s a murmur, removed of emotion, as he’s smoothing his fingers around to the back of her neck, holding firmly—keeping her upright to allow her heavy head some respite—whilst he stands tall at the foot of the bed, gargantuan in size compared to Y/N’s sad form.
“Listen to me,” the digits curl slightly, angling her head up, up. She’s forced to ruminate over the tension in Harry’s brows and the evidence of his hands running through his hair with irritation, strands coiling wildly. But she nods against the strain, trying so hard to be better.
“You have two options.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Y/N almost wishes he did. The complete lack of inflection leaves her with nothing to lean on. “You can be a good girl for the rest of the night, just like I know you’re so capable of—” he pauses to let the words settle, and maybe to hear the echo of the slight spite in his accusation.
Y/N doesn’t think she needs to hear option two, and when Harry does say it, it makes her sad all over again.
“—or you can go to the spare room.”
Her lip twitches; she clenches her eyes shut to force the tears back down and shakes her head in silence.
Harry strokes his thumb against the back of her scalp. “We will talk about this. Tomorrow, we will. But for now, I want easy, okay? Will you be good?”
I am good! Is what she wants to say. She wants to say that she never meant to be bad, she never meant to upset him. She wants to take the last few hours of her life back completely and do it all over again.
The weight of the bowl in her hands is a reminder. She puts it down on the mattress beside her, curling her knees underneath her bum to push her height up. To reach Harry’s chest and clench her fingers into the material of his shirt, jacket long since removed in the heat of his frustration.
“I’llbegood,” Harry feels the vibration of her words and hears the muffled promise as Y/N smears sad kisses over his cotton covered heart. He lets her—eyes losing the fight against his lids as they fall shut, sighing as he worries about taking this all too far.
But the wheels are in motion, and the emotions are high. If Y/N can’t follow through on a promise, then Harry must follow through with a punishment. Or a scolding. Or whatever it is that they’re doing right now—which seems to be neither. He just wants to sleep, and hold her warm body, and forget about his day.
He brings his hand up to smooth over the top of her head, closed eyes allowing him one last moment of reprieve. Y/N’s tears soak through his shirt, wetting his skin underneath. No doubt he’ll find dampened patches littered across the material, soon to dry but the memory will never fade. Of having his love kiss through her tears, to beg in her sadness for forgiveness by applying her own homemade bandaids.
Harry needs a distraction.
His gaze lands on the forgotten bowl when he opens his eyes, gently pushing Y/N back onto her bum when he decides what to do.
“You didn’t eat your frosting, baby?”
And now he’s confusing her… because now he sounds almost playful—and Y/N doesn’t know the correct answer to give—the right words in the right order to be rewarded with the right reaction.
“I didn’t—know if you wanted me to, Sir,” she swallows around some of the words, snotty nose all stuffy and suffocating her vocal chords.
“I’d like you to now.” Harry sees his hands on her face as he says it, white frosting painting her like something else they’re familiar with—his fingers spanning the entirety of her features, smearing the mess around like she’s his own personal canvas.
He leans down, just enough to dip his fingers inside the bowl, coating his digits, and then he stretches back out to his full height with purpose, sinewy forearm veiny as it is pulled towards Y/N’s mouth by an eager hand.
She sits still—statuesque—with her eyes roving up Harry’s rolled sleeve and all the way to the straight line of his mouth. Y/N can’t help but wish she could know exactly what he was thinking as he daubs the pads of his middle and ring finger against the seal of her mouth, displacing the substance from his fingers to her lips, before teasing his way inside to hook her bottom teeth down and unlatch her jaw.
He just… stares for a moment, holding her mouth open and watching as saliva pools beneath her tongue and kisses his fingertips. And then he pats her cheek with his other hand, a soft tap as Y/N’s lashes barely flutter from the weight of his palm. She drools a little when Harry drops her jaw, shame lingering somewhere but not quite reaching the forefront of her mind. It occurs to her to close her mouth, but it seems her dominant isn’t quite finished—bringing a newly dipped hand back up to her face. He’s all but dipped it entirely into the bowl, cold against Y/N’s face when he smudges his handprint over the left side of her face with a quirk of his lips.
“Sweet and salty, huh?” his eyes darken, the pad of his thumb smearing the frosting so indelicately adorning her face. The sugary paste intersects with a drying tear trail streaking down her cheek and Harry can’t help the way his saliva pools under his tongue, blocky front teeth pushing two lines into his bottom lip.
She looks so pretty.
Y/N watches the way the flesh holds a slight indentation when her dominant closes his mouth once again. The quickstep of her heart dances with exhilaration now—body frozen in anticipation as Harry’s looming stature shrinks her. Her eyes are wide, and the only things she dares to move, flitting around Harry’s face as he manhandles hers.
He squeezes her cheeks together, shaking her head from side to side before dipping his thumb into her open mouth and spreading it across her tongue. Vanilla blossoms on her taste buds, and a quiet hum rumbles at the back of Y/N’s throat.
“S’that nice?” Harry all but coos. “All your hard work? Does it taste good?” He’s teasing, she knows—but that’s never mattered with Harry. Y/N will always answer him sincerely.
She hums around his thumb, “Mhm,” tongue flicking against his soft pad. If Y/N could eat everything off of Harry’s fingers, she would. Hand fed for life, lips cushioning his long digits as they stroke her tongue and caress the insides of her cheeks.
“Let me see,” Harry murmurs, keeping her head still as he bends down, tongue unfolding from behind his lips as he licks a stripe from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. Y/N makes a startled noise around his thumb, goosebumps littering her skin. Warmth and wet from his thick muscle as it lingers unnecessarily; he hums lewdly, over exaggerating the pleasure just to amplify Y/N’s—to watch her squeeze her thighs out of the corner of his eye as he leans back and swallows.
“Beautiful,” he concludes—about her frosting or about her, Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are wide and crystal clear, every emotion glittering over the surface of her corneas. And she just sits there, white smudges over her cheek, her lips, staring up at Harry as though he created the world in the palm of his hand—as though she sleeps soundly curled up in the nest of his dimple or the crevice of his navel.
Harry knuckles the rest of the mess off of her skin, suckling the joint into his mouth and gathering it all onto his tongue. She doesn’t expect the grip of his fingers on her jaw and for her automatic response being to present her own tongue, doesn’t realise that she registers the slight purse of his lips as he crowds her space and shamelessly lets the sweetness drip heavily into her mouth.
He doesn’t have to tell her to swallow as her throat bobs, eyes never wavering from Harry’s despite the electricity that jolts up her spine from the casual debauchery. So unwavering, his gaze, as if concentrating on the most important thing to ever happen in his life. Refusing to blink to avoid risking missing a single millisecond.
And then… then he steps back, the moment suddenly gone. Y/N misses the way his eyes droop regretfully.
Silent footfalls pad over to the en-suite, collecting cleanser and lotion, serum and soft wipes. Harry dabs at her face with such precision that Y/N wonders if it’s soothing for him—to take more care than necessary at cleaning her skin. She doesn’t quite understand the intent. Was he not going to continue what Y/N confidently assumes he had in mind?
He doesn’t as he changes out of his suit, he doesn’t as he passes his work shirt to Y/N, he doesn’t as she undresses—which would be the perfect time to do such a thing—he doesn’t as he pulls back the covers and settles in, patting the spot in front of him.
Y/N complies with a similar silence. No words shared but nonverbal communication can be just as effective. The wrap of Harry’s heavy forearm around her waist, pulling her in tight, so tight—almost too tight. That’s soothing enough to her, feeling his hard chest, his hard arms, his hard—
“Mm, Harry,” a whispered moan and a shift of her bum. She can feel him begging to nestle between her.
“No, baby, no,” he tickles her neck inadvertently, burrowing his nose into the delicate flesh. She yearns to crane her head back against his shoulder.
“Want you to feel good, sir. Just stay warm inside me, please?”
“I don’t deserve it, pet. Sleep now. We’ll eat in an hour.”
She can’t argue, not when her eyelids are so heavy. But the sleepiness of her brain and the tingling between her legs has her head all foggy, movements not her own as she guides Harry’s hand up to her mouth and coaxes his middle two fingers past her lips. He sighs into her neck, a gentle huff, but doesn’t resist—his other arm simply snakes under her body to wrap back around her waist and infuse her into his front.
Y/N has never slept so easily after an argument before.
When more of your possessions reside in your dominant’s house than your own, it’s probably time to reevaluate the situation. Y/N doesn’t do that as she juggles cans and bottles before dumping them into her suitcase—Harry’s suitcase because hers was old and battered—doesn’t even ponder it, which is something novel for her.
Harry passes a makeup bag silently from beside her. His case sits open on top of his mattress, slowly filling with clothes and toiletries. She’s not going for long, not even three full days, but Y/N has always been more at ease when she overpacks—instead of underpacking and feeling that swirling dread when she realises she’s forgotten something.
They’d travelled to her house to grab some things and then back to Harry’s—where he neatly folds whilst she fretfully panics—too manic to be overly helpful.
“Do you think I’ll need my sunglasses?” She gestures with them, spinning them around her finger before proceeding to juggle midair to stop them falling to the floor.
Harry smiles, humming whilst he picks a loose bit of fluff from the jeans he’s folding, “I’d take them, just in case.”
“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” She tries to round her eyes but Harry sees right through her. “Please?”
“No, darlin’, sorry.” He’s not sorry.
“I can’t believe you’ve known the whole time— when did he tell you? Why won’t you tell me? This is ridiculous…” she scoffs, “trying to send me somewhere when I have no bloody clue where it is I’m going—!”
“Oh, watch out everybody, she’s gearing up.”
“—Yes, I am! Stay clear of me unless you want a…” she hesitates , “a…”
“A knuckle sandwich?” Harry offers.
“A knuckle sandwich, yeah!” holding two small fists out in front of her with misguided intent. “Watch out, mate,” hopping about him like a crazy person.
He lets her, hoping she’ll tire herself out with all the bouncing around. “Okay, pal. I’m not telling you! I’m not sending you off to war, don’t worry, okay?”
She almost snorts. Don’t worry… what a ridiculous notion. “When pigs fly, Harry,” she grumbles.
They’re in better spirits today, evidently—although the morning had been tense. When Y/N had peeled her eyes open and relished in the feeling of Harry wrapping her up, she’d melted even further into the mattress. But that was before consciousness had really hit her, before her brain woke up and went fuck.
Harry had gone through the same thing about three seconds later, the jolt of Y/N’s remembrance disturbing his slumber. He’d groaned out, rolling onto his back and slinging a forearm over his eyes. Y/N peeked behind her at his bare chest rising and falling slowly. His grumbling voice had made the hairs on her arms stand up.
“Want a coffee?”
“Oh—I’ll do it, Harry.”
“No you won’t, stay there,” slinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching his arms above his head.
She still couldn’t help but admire the broadness of his back and the way it rippled despite the suspense in the air. “Could I have a tea, please? Actually, can I just come with you?”
He’d looked back at her, dimple carving its place with a small smile. “Alright, fusspot, come on then.”
“Here you go,” Harry passed her a mug, presenting her with the handled side as if he wasn’t casually holding scalding ceramic in his hand.
It toppled out, really, nearly undecipherable as she rushed, “Thankshandsome.”
Harry brought his mug up to his lips, not quite registering what she’s said, and then he paused, “What did you just say?”
Shit, nothing, nothing. “I said thanks, Harry."
“No you didn’t, did you just call me—?”
“—It sounded weird,” a sad frown pulled at her mouth. “I want to be sweet but it sounded so stupid.”
He shook his head, tongue running along his bottom lip to stop himself cheesing. “Say it again.”
She’s flustered. “I—” Harry raised his eyebrows. “...Thank you, handsome.”
“And again?” tongue poking the inside of his cheek.
Clammy hands dragged over her eyes to try and feel invisible. “Thanks, handsome.”
A broad grin stretched out across his face, and Y/N swore she saw the hint of a blush teasing the surface of his cheeks. “I like it,” he said. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” Y/N’s face burned, a nervous roll of her lip between her teeth before Harry reached out to kiss her cheek.
“I’m sorry about yesterday, baby. Really sorry.”
“Wh—?” She grabbed his hand that had found her face, thumb stroking her chin. “Why? It was my fault, I’m sorry. I promised you. I hate that I broke it.”
“You did promise me, yeah. But I didn’t even say hello to you, sweetheart. What kind of arsehole does that? Made you feel like shit. Can’t deny it, I made you cry.”
“But I just felt bad. Because— Because I promised, and you must’ve been so hungry.”
“It was just a curry, pet. No harm done. You made a very gorgeous cake instead. And yeah, I was hungry but no one died. I don’t hate you because you made a mistake. People make mistakes—I made one hundred mistakes last night.”
“Only a few,” she smiled coyly.
“I’m sorry. I was hungry, and I was tired, and I did all the wrong things. I upset you and it upset me and… I never w’na speak to you like that again. Will you forgive me?”
“I already had,” her voice wobbled, relief flooding her system. Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose into her hair without a moment of hesitation. “I’m sorry too.”
He hummed. “You know I don’t expect you to cook and clean for me, don’t you? Don’t expect any of that.” She nodded against his chest, forehead rubbing against his bare skin. “Could roll around on the floor all day or pick pretty flowers, as long as you were happy.”
“Stop, you’re making me cry,” a wet sniffle rumbling into his chest.
“You really think I’m handsome?”
She barked out a laugh, pulling back to look into his smiling eyes. “No! I think you’re wretched!”
Now, they pratt about like two high teenagers—giggling about things that could only be funny in these very specific circumstances. Harry insists on pretending to grind on Y/N like he’s been cast in some sort of early two thousands music video, relishing in each fit of shrieky laughter he wins from her, nibbling into her neck and pulling her body into his.
“Harry! You’re supposed to be helping me pack!”
“I am helping.”
“No you’re not!” she laughs.
“Let’s finish it later,” he mumbles into the side of her face, arms squeezing around her middle promisingly. “I’m supposed to be working, you know?” Harry hasn’t set foot in his home office all day.
“You’re the boss,” she argues validly.
“Yeah, I am…” he agrees, keen to keep their bubble from popping. “Will you let me decorate your cake with you?”
Y/N spins around in his arms, face bright as she exclaims, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”
Harry laughs. “G’na need to make some more frosting, most likely,” smiling like a menace when Y/N’s eyes widen and he can almost feel the heat rising up her face. She glances over to the bowl that is still sat on top of the dresser where Harry moved it the night before. If not for the fact that half of it was used like foundation, then it is most definitely not fresh anymore from its lack of cover.
“Come on, then,” she bites her lip, finding his hand and intertwining their fingers in a bold move of enthusiasm as she coaxes him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
A beautifully heart shaped cake sits undisturbed on a vintage glass stand, the patterned dome warping the image underneath it. And despite the trouble that said cake caused, Y/N still bounds over to it all smiley, proud like she’s just received a first class distinction for a dissertation she’s slogged over for months.
Harry watches her fondly, noting the way her lips form around silent words as she lists off all the things she needs to get out of the cupboards. It’s a privilege to get to see someone so comfortably in their element; to pick up on things they don’t even notice about themselves.
She ushers him over, presenting a wooden spoon for him to take. “You can stir, muscle man,” the cheeky quip settling on Harry’s skin with a buzz as Y/N slowly pours each ingredient into a bowl. Harry does as he’s told, stirring and beating the mixture until the boss deems it good enough.
She wields the palette knife like it’s an extension of her hand, smoothing the frosting over the cake whilst Harry ‘helps’. Y/N did ask if he wanted to do it, but he couldn’t possibly do a subpar job of her favourite process. So he watches from beside her—not too close (“You make me nervous”) but close enough for moral support (“Not that far away!”)—making an effort to hold his breath in case it were to disturb her.
Cakes were never Harry’s dessert of choice but… but. Y/N’s unwavering glee is enough to make him want to request a change in the law that demands cake be granted to all. “Do you like it?” She grins, looking up at Harry to gauge his reaction. And he hardly has to over exaggerate; it is gorgeous.
“Too good to eat, that’s for sure,” he hums, holding her gaze with a twinkle in his eye.
“Wait! It’s not finished,” her face drops as she remembers, frantically hurrying to the fridge to retrieve a punnet of strawberries.
Harry should’ve known. “Nothing is ever finished without strawberries.” It’s a gentle tease, followed by a huff of laughter, shaking his head gently as she cuts them in half to place around the border of the heart, in between soft peaks of piping.
It’s simple, and it’s sweet, and it’s lovely. Much like Y/N as she habitually holds up a fruit to Harry’s mouth, shrieking and pulling back when he purposefully nips her fingertips. He grins through a chew, fresh, sweet juice shining on his lips.
Then he turns to get some water, presenting Y/N with a perfect opportunity. As he’s filling a glass, letting his mind wander to dinner plans, “Do you fancy spag—” he turns into Y/N’s attack as she strikes. Vanilla buttercream. Vanilla buttercream splattered across his cheek and kissing his eyelashes.
Y/N gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth and hide her smile, so bad at pretending to be innocent. Harry says nothing, and then he trails his eyes from the floor to her face… “You little minx,” and he pounces.
The submissive yelps, reaching behind her for the counter—frantic for stabilisation as Harry’s body collides into hers. She’s drowning in giggles, out of breath from the incessance. The bottom of her spine digs into marble, hips swivelling as she desperately tries to reach the bowl. Harry’s laughing, pushing forward to rub his sugary face against hers whilst Y/N wiggles—and when he realises her intent, drops his hands to her hips and tugs her behind brutishly into his front—reaches over her back and elongates a sinewy arm to grasp what she can’t.
A clumsy hand bashes against the ceramic, his free arm wrapping around both of Y/N’s the best he can to incapacitate her as his fingers find frosting. He pulls them back, frenzied in his movements as he carelessly sullies her face, her big puffs of laughter tickling his palm. “Ah!” She squeals, head thrown back against his shoulder to try and escape Harry’s menacing paw. “Ha—ha—Harry! Sto-ho-op!”
“You love it,” he grumbles into her temple, far from irritated but his voice can’t help but dip into that velvety cadence with her body pressed so tight against his. He smushes his palm over her mouth, perfectly riled up when Y/N opens her mouth and slathers her tongue against the sticky skin.
She giggles something unattractive—though it makes Harry’s cock twitch in his sweats. “Fuckin’ love struggling like this, don’t you, doll?” And suddenly the mood shifts, Y/N’s laugh catches in her throat and she garbles out a whine instead, body relaxing in Harry’s hold.
He nudges her forward, encourages the stretch of her body over the countertop and the way her knuckles knock against the ceramic. An unconscious hum rumbles past his lips, tongue poking out to taste the sweetness Y/N left behind.
Deft fingertips tug impatiently at the denim hem of her jeans, forcing the button undone and then the zipper, shifting them down to stretch across her thighs. Y/N pants when she realises that’s all the wiggle room Harry is going to grant her.
He pauses, “What’s your colour,” uncharacteristically out of breath, hardly poised as a question.
“Green,” Y/N whines in return, trying to wiggle her hips but Harry wraps his fingers through the back of her underwear and pulls. The fabric cuts into the crease of Y/N’s thighs and a shiver wracks through her as the force of it bounces her ass against him—against his bulge.
His breath hits the shell of her ear as he leans over, taunting and teasing. “Gonna let me fuck you?”
“Yes,” Y/N nods, turning her cheek into the marble to feel the cold spread out across the searing flesh. Her hands form fists, nails digging into her palms—desperate to tug on something but her skin is the only option.
It’s rushed, and it’s frenetic—it’s not the way things usually go and it multiplies Y/N’s excitement tenfold. Her knees wobble without prompt and she’s not sure she’ll be able to hold this position for very long but she doesn’t think she’ll have to. Not when Harry pulls himself out of his sweatpants and slips himself under her panties and through her lips. He’s so hard already, Y/N feels herself wetten from the slightest touch; his weight and his grunt as their bodies meet completely and utterly.
But he’s teasing her, he’s… he’s—
“Harry,” it comes out all whiny and impatient—two things Y/N has never claimed not to be—but with every slant of his hips, every stroke through her arousal and bump of her clit, with her wretched knickers still on, it makes her angry. “Stop—stop teasing me!”
He jerks, unused to such commands toppling from her mouth. “Shh, be good, be quiet,” but complying regardless as he slips her panties down her thighs to stretch just like her jeans. Y/N can’t spread her legs very wide, but that doesn’t stop Harry from pushing at pulling as he pleases—one hand pressing down on her lower back, the other cupping her cunt and smearing her arousal like an artist with a paintbrush.
Neither of them can stand the idea of foreplay right now; Y/N can feel her sad, empty hole pulsing and clenching around nothing—Harry throbs just the same, slicking her wetness up and around his dick, twisting and tugging at the tip enough to make him leak down his knuckles.
They’re wet enough, shining under the harsh kitchen lights, and yet Harry still pulls at Y/N’s ass, spreading her wide to dribble a thick line of spit onto her puckered hole. She jolts, hips grinding unceremoniously against the counter as she feels his saliva drool down to her glistening cunt and Harry’s thumb chase it. He coos and hisses at the bang, smoothing over her hip with his other hand as he starts to rub circles over her.
“Oh—!” It’s impossible not to writhe under the foreign feeling, exposed and wet, trapped by her own jeans. Her forehead falls down, clashing against the marble but Y/N hardly feels it. All she can feel is the pad of Harry’s thumb and the heat it burns into her body—the seeping between her thighs the longer he plays, and the teasing bumps and brushes of his cock against her rounded flesh.
“Shh, that’s it. Good girl.”
And she withers. She disintegrates right in front of Harry’s eyes.
“Pretty girl with a pretty ass, hm? ‘s that feel good, darlin’?”
“Mm, please I—”
“I know, shh—shh,” thudding himself against her firmly, guiding the tip up and down her slick, pushing in to watch her stretch and swallow before leaning back again. Pushing in—pulling out. His thumb applies the slightest of pressure, not enough to send panic clattering up Y/N’s spine but enough to mollify her very being. The sensation—the teasing—of intrusion without the worry of it. The taboo nature of experiencing such pleasure in such places.
When Harry pushes in all the way, Y/N nearly collapses, whimpering into the counter. She can feel him in her fucking throat, she’s sure of it. Every ridge, every vein, the nudge of his head, his slit kissing her walls. And Harry spews all that he can without saying the words themselves.
“Love your fucking cunt, love this—fucking gorgeous body.” His voice thins out to a gravelly whisper, “Were you made just for me, sweetheart?” hips slapping against rippling flesh, palm smoothing up her back to weave into tendrils of hair as his thumb remains encircling. Y/N tries to reply; all that procures are pitiful cries of exertion, air punched out of her lungs with every thrust. “Waiting patiently for me to find you.”
It’s such a romantic sentiment that she finds herself welling up—perhaps easily understood by the overstimulation of her entire vessel but it feels deeper than that. It feels intimate irregardless of their current position. A limp hand flops against her lower back, tired elbow joints aching, searching for its partner—searching for its missing puzzle piece. And when Harry’s fingers slot into place… it forms the whole, pretty picture.
“Love, need you to—” a pause as though he’s forgotten the words as he says them. “Need you to relax. Gripping me so tight—not g’na last.”
But Harry’s sentiment calms her none, she clenches around him even tighter—suddenly tunnel visioned for one thing and one thing only. It’s an amalgamation of wet noises attempting to form syllables, “Pleasecome, pleasecome, please—” Inside, she wants it inside.
“God, baby, you’re so wet,” Harry’s hips stutter, digits squeezing hers even tighter, thumb slipping away to slink around her front and frame two fingers on either side of her cunt, pinching her clit ever so slightly. It makes her shudder, mouth far too numb to feel the drool that strings down onto the counter.
“Mhm, mhm,” pushing back with all the strength she can muster, bum lifting to meet Harry’s pelvis. “Daddy.”
“Okay, darlin’, it’s okay. Need you to come f’me,” framing fingers coming together to form the perfect swipes over her clit—the extra stimulation she needs to just push her over the edge and send her toppling. He feels the way she starts to throb, feels the way the muscles in her legs lock, keeps rubbing to carry her through as her weak whimpers trail into wet sobs.
Y/N practically loses consciousness as her orgasm hits her; squeezes Harry’s hand so tight he hisses for reasons other than his strangled cock. Her knees buckle and her limbs lose competence. Harry moves both hands to her waist, hauling her up and onto her toes as he quickens his pace, lewd slicking and the thud of their bodies the only sounds to ever exist.
And she keeps squeezing, the aftershocks strong enough to pull Harry with her, to force him to slip out frantically before painting stripe after stripe onto her ass, her back. She shakes her head against the hard countertop—never before has she felt such a jarring loss, such a painful transition. Inside, she wanted it inside.
Harry stands behind her, slowly tugging, squeezing out every last drop onto her skin. His legs don’t quite shake like Y/N’s but the exertion, the overwhelming orgasm has his head spinning a bit. But not when he registers his submissive’s wet face, drenched in sweat and tears alike, unable to be peeled from where it lays heavily on the counter. He wisens up entirely, cooing soft, easily digestible words as he cleans her skin with a soft tissue. Swipes in between her legs slowly, careful to avoid unwanted pressure, and straightens her back as thought he might have broken it.
Her eyes are glossy, not fully present but it doesn’t bother him. She looks tired, pupils tracking his face with a lag. But tired means he’s done his job well, tired means all other thoughts fail to penetrate.
They could do with a shower, a sleep, a good meal… but Harry can’t deny the desire to just sit with her for a moment. To untuck a less than comfortable stool and hold her on his lap, chin nestled against her neck. To kiss mindlessly along the slope of her shoulder and massage his fingers into her scalp, to have her doze off on top of him, completely void of tension.
And when she wakes up, he’ll let her eat cake for lunch.
Harry hopes he doesn’t appear too grumpy on the drive to Niall’s. He’s just… well he is grumpy, because he’s going to miss Y/N. And it dawns on him on that journey, just how much he’s going to fucking miss her.
It shouldn’t be so hard to tell her—not when he feels it so fervently. Maybe it makes Harry selfish for wanting her to say it first but he tells himself that’s why he’s waiting. Not because he’s worried but because he wants Y/N to be brave.
And it weighs on him, every goodbye being void of those three little words. It weighs on him but it still doesn’t mean he says it any sooner.
Y/N buzzes beside him, practically vibrating in her seat. She turns her seat warmer on, adjusts the aircon, switches the radio station, turns her seat warmer off, rummages around in Harry’s glove box for nothing in particular.
She’s nervous. She’s excited but she’s nervous—and even a blind man would be able to tell. Harry lovingly wishes he maybe could be blind, or better deaf, as she prattles on; terminally diagnosed with verbal diarrhoea as he ums and ahs to appease her. He stopped listening when she started rattling off facts about pigeons (pigeons, for Christ’s sake), focusing intently on the road alongside his own internal battles.
Harry doesn’t mean to suggest he doesn’t enjoy her borderline insanity—he does—he’s head over heels in love with her insanity. She entertains him thoroughly without even trying to and he thinks he could only list on one hand the times he hasn’t been completely endeared with her.
But he can forgive himself for zoning about when it comes to pigeon facts, no matter how interesting it may be that the species were entirely domesticated, and then abandoned by humans.
“I need a wee,” she complains, shifting her seat belt so it stops pressing into her bladder.
“‘s alright, only five minutes away.”
“I know,” she whinges, starting to tug at the hem of her sleeve. Harry sees her incessant fiddling out of the corner of his eye, placing his upturned hand on her thigh as a silent ask for her own. Y/N takes the bait, and a calm settles over them.
When they pull up outside Niall’s place, he’s leaning against the hood of his car, squinting at his phone. At the sound of tires over gravel he looks up and grins, elation taking over his face. And however desperate Y/N might have been to go to the bathroom, and no matter how excited her friend is, she doesn’t dare to rush getting out of the car.
She slings her arms around Harry’s neck, bidding farewell as if she’s going abroad and not just an hour away. But Harry doesn’t laugh, he hugs her back just as tight, inhaling the freshness of her skin—desperate to keep her scent with him until she gets back. He presses kisses into the side of her head, warm palm rubbing her lower back—usually he might be reassuring her with gentle words but right now he can’t find it within himself to do so.
He doesn’t want her to go.
And he’s a grown, adult man—not some lovesick teenager. She’s going for three days. THREE. But Harry still hasn’t said I love you and each departure feels more and more dangerous.
“You’re gonna have such a lovely time,” he pulls back to kiss her cheek and her lashes flutter like little butterfly wings. A knuckle down the bridge of her nose and teasingly flicking underneath to make her giggle. “Text me when you arrive, okay?”
“Yeah,” she hums, less than subtly leaning in, hoping he’ll kiss her like they do in the movies. An incapacitating kind of kiss. And Harry delivers like it’s his profession, devouring hands overwhelming in their cradle of her head, directing her movements as he teases the corner of her mouth with a gentle press of his lips. He wishes he could take more time. He wishes Niall weren’t right outside the fucking window probably simpering at the sight. He wishes he could give her more than just a chaste sponging of their mouths, followed by a flurry of departing pecks.
He wishes he could just say the fucking words.
A knock sounds from behind Harry’s head—knuckles on glass—and the muffled sound of Niall’s teasing, “Get a move on, you two! We’ve got to leave today,” and Harry meets Y/N’s gaze, rolling his eyes obnoxiously whilst she laughs. Their bubble has been popped, and she’s opening the car door, bounding over to her friend all foolishly as she playfully berates him. Harry’s mouth curls up into a small smile, sliding out of the car and silently getting Y/N’s suitcase whilst amusedly shaking his head.
He even gets a coy, “Thanks, handsome,” a twinkle in Y/N’s eye as she embarrasses herself in front of Niall to make Harry’s heart jump. The two men hug and pat one another on the back, exchanging pleasantries and agreeing that it’s been too long. But it’s unnecessary to hang around, and Niall makes some comment about how he needs to take care of something he’d nearly forgotten, so Harry pulls himself away and tries not to watch Y/N in the rearview mirror as he pulls back out onto the road.
It follows him around for the rest of the day, his lack of courage, of flexibility. The fact that a more than capable CEO—a dominant—couldn’t say I love you to his partner. He’s not embarrassed, no it runs deeper than insecurity, but he’s frustrated. And Harry has never been irrational but perhaps Y/N has been rubbing off on him because he finds himself starting to panic.
What if there’s an accident? There’s an accident and Harry never gets to tell her… He has to stop those thoughts before he finds himself calling her up to demand her life status, and then again thirty minutes later, and another thirty minutes. But it’s not so irrational, he can’t help but believe. Accidents happen all the time—and Harry can’t stand going any longer without telling her how bleak his life would be without her.
It doesn’t help to scroll through social media. A fucking philosophy. Not when life starts showing you godforsaken signs. A friend getting married here, a newborn baby there. Everyone coupled up and happy—basking in love without boundaries. Love without hesitation and fear. Harry wants to give that to Y/N. He has that love for Y/N, and he’s positive she has it for him too.
So he exits out of Instagram and starts to look through his own personal social media—his camera roll. Harry has more photos on his phone of Y/N than he does his parents, his sister, his friends. The folder he’s titled simply with her name holds a number of images that might indicate he harbours strong feelings for the girl.
In their short but staggering relationship, thus far, Harry has taken seventy two photographs of Y/N. More if he were to count the ones he deleted after a panicked spam to capture the moment before it passed. He swipes through them slowly—one of Y/N asleep in his bed, naked back pretty in the morning light. One of her sitting across from him at their favourite café, caught off guard in an authentic smile that he can never get out of her when he asks her to pose. He treasures that one. A photo of her laying on lucious grass, arms and legs spread out like she is trying to make some sort of snow angel without the snow. A photo of her wet from the pool, droplets littering her skin as she sunbathes unaware—and then a subsequent photo of when she spotted Harry with his phone directed at her, and scrunched her nose up in disgust. He’d looked at that one for ages.
He wonders what she’s doing now. Knows they arrived not long ago, from her bubbly text message adorned in exclamation marks and emojis. Wishes he could’ve seen her reaction when they pulled up outside the place—a luxury health spa. The perfect place for a neurotic who has an affinity for smelling and feeling nice. She had sent him screenshots; the reaction she’d had over text when Niall admitted to her how he’d booked their visit.
Y/N
this room is incredible omg
how did you get us in here with such short notice?
Niall
right??? don’t need a spa just need this bedroom
I BOOKED IT IN HARRY’S NAME LOL
no I’m kidding, I’m kidding…
okay, I’m not kidding but I phoned him straight afterwards
I knew he’d be fine with it
I paid him for my room and stuff don’t worry
desperate times called for desperate measures and I knew his name would get us a stay
Y/N
NIALL YOU ARE INSANE YOU CAN’T DO THAT
how did you have his card details what the hell???
actually don’t tell me i don’t want to be liable by association when you get arrested or whatever
Niall
aiding and abetting? is what it’s called, I think
ANYWAY YOU WORRY TOO MUCH HARRY IS FINE WITH IT
now HURRY UP!!!!! I want to go the in hot tub 😋
in the*
She’d followed the photos up with thank you, harry. wish you were here to enjoy it too x—and it had only made him miss her more.
Y/N and Niall's luxurious long weekend goes by too quickly. And despite her words being true—that she wished Harry could be with them—Niall, unsurprisingly keeps Y/N wonderfully distracted. It’s a relief that she hasn’t become insufferable since dating someone. That she hasn’t turned into one of those people who bring up their partner in every. single. conversation. That she’s not just moping around waiting to go home and ruining Niall’s enjoyment. Y/N actually finds herself to be… content.
Yes, she misses Harry. She misses sleeping in his bed, in his arms. She misses walking into a room and seeing him just existing. But it doesn’t stop her from lounging in the hot tub with Niall and giggling over gossip. It doesn’t stop her from going to a pilates class and instantly regretting it. It doesn’t stop her from getting a massage so good she nearly falls asleep—although she may admit to pretending the woman administering the massage is in fact her dominant, with suddenly much smaller hands—but that’s neither here nor there.
And when Monday morning rolls around, she’s loose-limbed and fresh-faced—and very much excited about seeing Harry again. What she doesn’t know is that he’s been excited about seeing her again since he dropped her off… and is having the closest thing to a mental breakdown over their lack of communication.
He wakes up disgruntled; a night of tossing and turning and bags slowly procuring under his eyes. He wakes up and showers. He eats and he glances over his emails. He’ll be ‘working’ from home today, without a doubt.
It feels as though the only thing that can capture his attention is the clock—each hand ticking slower than the last. Y/N won’t be home until midday at least, but Harry can’t find himself able to concentrate on anything else.
It seems the universe has it out for him, when he switches the television on and Y/N’s favourite rom com blares through the speakers. During her favourite scene, of course. He wants to switch it off—not through distaste but through yearing—through painful reminder. But he can’t; not only because he adores the movie too but because the scene in which Y/N loves so much is just that. The climax of the film, the moment everybody has been waiting for—the love confession.
“For fuck’s sake,” he curses to the empty room. Because it’s typical, isn’t it? That coincidence would strike at this moment in time. That out of all the channels and all the TV shows, the films that could’ve been on at eleven thirty on a Monday morning, it’s this one. He doesn’t really watch it. He’s seen it enough times to know what happens. But it helps him decide something. It helps him ignore any and all previous stances on the matter—fuck making her say it first.
Harry knows she loves him and he gets in his car to tell her so, leaving the television murmuring quietly—two besotted characters lost in an embrace to the sound of his front door clicking shut.
Niall drops Y/N home at approximately the same time Harry leaves his. Of course, Y/N doesn’t know this, and she would’ve appreciated a warning—maybe the chance to have a cup of tea and unpack her case first. But she’s feeling vibrantly recuperated—thoroughly pampered and sucked into the blissful dreamworld of a weekend at a spa, and it hardly crosses her mind to question why Harry turns up so chaotically.
Why he knocks on her door instead of just coming straight in, why he tugs her into him as though she’s just been rescued, why he pulls back just to ask a less than sensical question. "Why won't you say it to me?"
Perplexed silence. Y/N's fingertips linger on the door handle as she tumbles back from his embrace, her gait once relaxed and happy—now stiff and unsure. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks Harry’s just wasted all of his money paying for that long weekend.
"Harry?" It hasn't clicked yet, what he's talking about, but it still sits heavy in her gut—heavy and unanswered.
"Why won't you say it, darling?" He looks desperate... it doesn't compliment him well; it makes Y/N nervous. Harry is a suit without creases, shining shoes, perfect hair kind of man, but right now he vibrates on her doorstep in two day old sweats and hand combed locks. In fact, he can't seem to keep his fingers out of those runnels—creating new ones with each breath Y/N's voice fails to break the silence.
"Say what?" She practically begs it. Say what? Please, please, please. Tell me, let it be okay, let it be simple. "I'll say anything you want, Harry," it doesn't evade her that perhaps she should hear him out first. But it's as she whispers the commitment that she realises it. That she would say anything he wanted to hear… for Harry, Y/N would perform absurdities.
Usually shimmering jade now refuses to glisten in the light, green from a marsh or a bog. Y/N misses the viridescence. Harry releases a breath, lashes swatting heavily against his under eye. "You know, you— I need you to know."
And then… suddenly, she does. Suddenly, she’s kidding herself if she pretends she doesn’t know. It clicks—it clicks and Y/N’s heart stutters. This is cruel of Harry, so cruel. He sent her away to relax and now he’s setting up something fanciful just to make a mockery of her.
“That’s not fair,” she wobbles, in word and posture. Her knees start to feel weak, her chest tightens, the image of Harry before her—still hovering outside—starts to thicken. Y/N takes a step back, and Harry one forward. He shuts the door behind him, free from the chill of the wind, now trapped inside.
“Not fair? What do you mean?”
This—this isn’t how Harry talks, this exasperation, this urgency. He takes care of her, he tells her what she means when she speaks. Y/N doesn’t figure that out on her own. Harry always… he always knows. Why doesn’t he know?
Y/N turns her back on him when the corners of her eyes start to burn. A pathetic breakdown of emotion, she thinks. “You must know I’ve just been waiting… waiting for the day. Been so patient, my love. Please talk to me.”
“I can’t,” her words swallow one another, throat thick and wet.
Harry rushes round to see her, his eyebrows uncomfortably pulled towards the centre of his face. There’s a migraine brewing behind his eyes. “Yes, you can. You can, darling,” chilled palms hold her head up. Y/N wants to shake them off but the temptation is smothered the mere second it arrives. “What are you so afraid of? S’just me.”
“Can’t—can’t… can’t,” scalding tears tip over her waterline, streaming down and over the knuckles of Harry’s thumbs as they brush over her quivering cheeks. She inhales a shaky, shallow breath. “Need you. Need to keep it—this—safe.”
“Why wouldn’t it be safe, Y/N?”
“I’ll ruin it, I’ll—I’m not—” she closes her eyes, “You can’t possibly—”
“—Love you?”
The mere suggestion of it punches the air from her lungs. Despite the fact he’s not saying it to her, it might as well have the same effect. She shakes her head, dislodging a tear.
“I love you, Y/N.” She shakes her head harder. “I love you so much.”
“No,” it’s a thick, ugly cry. “You can’t, I’m— I’m no good, I’m annoying.”
And Harry… Harry does something borderline offensive. Harry laughs in her face. He laughs loudly and he laughs boldly, carving out a crease in between Y/N’s eyebrows.
“I love you,” he says again. And he feels so, so miraculously light, after fretting over it for so long. After hearing her only excuse be that she doesn’t feel deserving of it… well. Harry doesn’t think that’s so hard to help her with, after all. “I love you.”
“Stop,” she weeps, face begging to hide but Harry’s hands hold it up. He’s just a blur before her.
“Hey, hey,” the pads of his thumbs are soaked but that doesn’t stop him from trying to wipe her face. “Look at me—come on, pretty girl, that’s it.” Y/N can feel her bottom lip wobbling. “Do you remember… a few weeks ago, when you were upset—”
Y/N snorts—she can’t help herself—the self-loathe overrules.
“—Oi. Yes, I know, don’t say it. You were upset and you accidentally dropped that plate, yeah? You remember? And I bought you flowers and you felt bad the next day because you didn’t notice?”
Yes. Yes, she remembers that. She’d felt so bad. So embarrassed when she’d asked him where they’d come from, and he’d admitted he wanted to give them to her yesterday when he got home. Too wrapped up in her own despair to realise—too selfish, and dramatic, and ridiculous—
“Hey—don’t think about it, I’m not— I mean,” he stops and sighs, rakes his hand through the back of her hair. “I buy you flowers with meaning, yeah? Yellow tulips, white gardenias…” Y/N nods slowly, confused but fond of the memory of those yellow tulips indefinitely. “Those flowers I bought a few weeks ago… they were red roses, baby. They symbolise love—they mean I love you. And I was going to tell you if you’d asked but… well, it didn’t happen—And I’m not blaming you, I’m not, but I can’t not say it anymore. And I need you to want to say it back to me darling.”
Y/N starts crying again—she never exactly stopped but the tears had paused momentarily to allow Harry his room to speak. But now? Now they’re under no semblance of control. She paws at his t-shirt, words garbled but he knows what she’s saying, “I love you, Harry. I love you s-so much,” and it’s never sounded more beautiful. It’s a mess, and it’s far from romantic—snot and tears coalescing into one big disaster—but Harry still kisses her.
He kisses her and he smiles, laughing when she laughs through her sobs—saying it over, and over, and over again. “I love you,” he whispers, and she echoes it back through waves of emotion. “You’re it for me, you know that?” And Y/N can’t bear to hear it. She’ll still struggle to believe him, for many months to come, they’re both sure.
“But—” she pulls back, swipes furiously at her face with no impact, “—the roses— they died, Harry. Does that mean your love died with them?” It’s a ridiculous notion; of course Harry laughs. “Shut up!”
“I didn’t say anything!” He’s grinning, and Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression. How could she stop her lips from twitching upwards at such a sight? Harry tugs her to his chest, squeezes her so tight she might just get stuck there, and holds her for as long as it takes for their heartbeats to return to normal.
And when they do, he tucks his lips against the top of her head and asks, “Does this mean you’ll quit your job now?”
Y/N takes a moment to ponder her reply… and then he… he feels her smile into his chest before she leans back and looks up with the prettiest, cheekiest, little grin, “Maybe,” ducking out of his embrace and starting to slowly waddle backwards, “if you can catch me.”
Harry doesn’t even do her the courtesy of a head start.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles one shots#harry styles blurbs#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#domrry#writing#mutually beneficial#dom!harry
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Not As It Seems
Pairing: Rhysand x reader
Plot: to outsiders they see your life is perfect. Being mated to one of the most powerful high lords and named high lady of the night court everyone thought you were happy (including your mate). What happens when the mask you’ve been wearing finally falls and Rhysand discovers what’s been troubling his darling mate.
a/n This is based on this request. Let me know if you want a part two where Rhysand confronts the person responsible for his mate's suffering.
ACOTAR Masterlist
Prompt List
If someone had told you when you were younger that you would be mated with the high lord of the night court and given the title of high lady you would’ve laughed in their faces. Yet here you were, living every female’s (and some males) dream of being mated to Rhysand.
You met Rhysand one cold autumn morning. You had arrived at your job two hours ago at your bakery when Rhysand strolled in and requested one of every pastry you had for sale. You gave him a puzzled look and asked if he was sure: “Of course I’m sure. I could smell your delicious pastries a few blocks away,” Rhysand responded with a warm smile on his face.
A shy smile crept up on your face at Rhysand’s compliment. While you were used to everyone always complimenting you on your pastries, having your high lord compliment you made you go shy. “I’m flattered,” you sheepishly said while carefully placing the treats in the box.
A surprising look appeared on Rhysand’s face when took the box from your hands and took in your appearance. Mate Rhysand mentally told himself when he realized you were the female he had been dreaming about for as long as he could remember.
Not wanting to scare you off, Rhysand settled with simply asking you out to dinner before slowly revealing that you were mates.
He was grateful he did that. You built your relationship organically, and when he finally confessed that you were mates, instead of resenting him for hiding such a secret, you kissed him and told him how happy you were that you were mates.
There was only one problem in your relationship, you rarely talked about your family and what you were like growing up. Every time he tried to pry into your past or family, you would always charge the subject or ask him to drop it. He was tempted sometimes to slither into your mind and see what was so bad about your childhood that you refused to talk to him about.
He didn’t though.
He knew you would resent him if he invaded your privacy in that way just to get an answer. Instead, he’d change the subject to something more pleasant.
It’s not that you didn’t want to tell Rhysand about your childhood. To people who didn’t know you personally, they thought you had a great childhood. But the people who truly knew you knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.
While you were still in contact with your mother, your relationship with her was complicated, to say the least. Growing up, your mother would display all the signs of a narcissistic parent. Always finding a way to make your accomplishments hers and insult you when you did something minutely wrong.
It got worse when you were an adult and opened the bakery you still operated. She didn’t ask; she demanded that you give her half of your earnings from the bakery to make up for raising you. You foolishly agreed to her demand even though you were barely making enough to support yourself when you met Rhysand.
Once you had your mating ceremony, Rhysand would beg you to stop working because he had more than enough and then some to support you, but you rejected him each time. You didn’t want to put the burden of supporting your mother on Rhysand, so you told him you just loved your work too much to close it.
Because you were under so much stress with not only running your bakery by yourself but also doing the duties a high lady is supposed to do, you found yourself stretching yourself thin. You couldn’t find a moment in your day to just sit and relax, and when you did, it was only for a few minutes.
Unfortunately, that manifested into you not wanting to do anything during the days you actually managed to get off and started developing depression episodes.
You didn’t want anyone to know you were silently suffering, especially Rhysand’s. He had so much on his plate, and you didn’t want to add to his worries. So you’d force a smile so no one would know; know that you were silently fighting with your mother because she was growing more entitled to your money. Your mental shield was always up and so guarded; not even Rhysand could penetrate it.
You finally hit your breaking point one afternoon when your mother stopped by your bakery and demanded that you tell Rhysand he needed to start paying her money as well. In her words: “His money is your money, and your money is my money.”
Not being able to contain your anger towards your mother, you unleash all the frustration you have had towards her for the past three centuries. By the end of it, your mother dared to slap you across the face and growled: “You ungrateful child! You would have nothing if it wasn’t for me! I should have been Rhysand’s mate so I could have that fortune you have, not you. But seeing as you are his mate, I’m expecting you to give me his money by the end of the week,” before storming out of the bakery and disappearing into the streets of Velaris.
You didn’t know how you managed to get home, but when you did, you had the inner circle panicked with the state you were in. “Y/n. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Mor asked, worry laced in her tone: “Azriel, Cassian, go get Rhysand he’s-”.
Azriel and Cassian were out the door before Mor had a chance to finish her sentence.
Mor and Amren meanwhile tried to get you to sit down with them, but you just brushed them off and disappeared into your bedroom. You knew they meant well, but you wanted to lock yourself in your room.
Not even five minutes later, Rhysand burst through your shared bedroom. Rhysand knelt down and cupped your face: “My darling y/n, please tell me what’s wrong? Tell me so I can help you,” there was a sense of panic in his voice.
“I’m tired Rhysand” you replied blandly. Rhysand remained silent as the other stormed into the room and watched the scene in front of them: “I’m so fucking tired of pretending I’m ok.”
@paankhaleyaar @amara-moonlight @favsrachz
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not mine | j. sc
taken!sungchan x fem. reader | 5.9k words
i hope you guys like this! this is definitely the most angsty thing i’ve ever written.
contains: infidelity, reader is sungchan’s girlfriend’s friend, sungchan is in a toxic relationship, both of them know it’s wrong, unprotected sex (DONT BE LIKE THEM)
you were a terrible friend.
sungchan was an even worse boyfriend.
it had started out as something so innocent. you had a class with sungchan, ironically it was intro to chemistry. he wasn’t someone you could picture yourself getting close with. it wasn’t necessarily that he was out of your league or that you were out of his, it was just that you seemed like you two had nothing in common. you secretly dreaded going to class after seeing the partner assignments posted on the online classroom. your teacher said that it was ”completely randomized”, but it seemed like the god’s had it out for you. you were going to class knowing you had to spend the next hour and a half talking to sungchan. you hoped that chemistry would fill up the awkward gaps in the conversation and that time would go by quickly. it seemed like sungchan thought the same thing, already having everything ready to start the assignment by the time you sat at the table. when you set down your stuff he looked up and smiled at you.
“you’re my partner for this project, right?” sungchan said.
you nodded your head while bringing out your own things. the awkward atmosphere was unavoidable after you had finished setting up your things. sungchan was looking at you over the screen of your computer and you cleared your throat.
“should we take the time to introduce ourselves properly?” sungchan asked.
it was a fair question to say the least. you had been in the same class all semester, but you never got the chance to actually talk one on one. the closest you got to an. interaction with sungchan was an awkward socratic seminar where you both just nodded along to good arguments that were made.
when you both introduced eachother you found out you actually had alot in common. you both had common interests and filled your time in between classes doing the same things. you still remember the shock on sungchan’s face when he found out you two shared a niche interest. you’re sure you looked the same way as he did, wide eyed with raised eyebrows. you two spent a majority of the class just talking, having to be put back on track by the teachers aide.
you and sungchan walked to the library after class to work on the project. you still look back on this moment with such regret. maybe if you had taken the initiative to go to a place more secretive your friend would’ve never met sungchan. you were in the middle of discussing possible research topics when your friend called your name. it was so loud even sungchan turned around. you saw her walking towards you, but her eyes were only on sungchan. even though he didn’t belong to you in any sense of the word, you still felt something akin to jealousy run through your body. the feeling was amplified when your friend introduced herself to sungchan without giving you a second glance.
“i’ve never seen you around before.” your friend said.
sungchan looked to you and you looked off into the distance. he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and gave your friend a smile.
“it is a big campus after all.” sungchan said with a smile.
your friend laughed a little too hard, and you were a little disgusted to see how much sungchan ate it up.
before you could even get into the library your friend got sungchan’s number and had set up plans to hang out with him. jealousy flashed across your mind and you had to push it away. although you hated it more than anything, sungchan was not yours in any sense of the word. so you had no choice but to watch the scene unfold in front of you.
your friend only acknowledged you while she was leaving, saying she will see you later. she had a pep in her step as she looked at her phone, texting something. seconds later you could feel your phone buzz in your hand. the message was short and sweet, the seven letters fitting in the message preview.
he’s mine.
“your friend is nice.” sungchan said.
you look at the text notification on your phone and scoff before putting it back into your pocket.
“yup.” you say curtly.
after you and sungchan were done with the project, you barely saw him. you were able to hear about him all the time, courtesy of your friend. she tells you about all the problems they are already having so early in the relationship. she tells you sungchan doesn’t know how to listen, that he’s a flirt, and too nice to other girls. you stopped trying to offer advice on their fights when your friend blew up at you for not taking her side. so you stuck to the role of the listener, nodding your head and giving half assed sounds to show you were paying attention.
it wasn’t until a couple months later that you saw sungchan again. he came as your friend’s plus one to a gathering of your clique. they had broken up recently, something about your friend’s ex reaching out to her. every man in her life was a placeholder for her stupid ex, so you thought sungchan was free from her clutches. you don’t know why it was hard for you to pretend like you were unfazed seeing them together. there was a pang in your chest seeing sungchan go through the crowd following your friend.
when sungchan saw you he had the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. you couldn’t help but smile back, waving at the person you missed seeing in class. you weren’t to sure why sungchan never came to your class anymore, but you were almost certain it had to do with your friend.
for the whole night you were stealing glances and sharing eye contact with him. your friend was stuck to his side the whole night, showing off her arm candy to everyone at the party. you assumed this was her way of launching the relationship, posting him on her story for the first time. you regretfully look back at the time you spent with sungchan and how you never made a move. you tried to comfort yourself by thinking he was a terrible boyfriend, something your friend had told you.
you didn’t get any time alone with sungchan until he came to you while you were making yourself a drink. he approached you with a big smile on his face, almost like he was happy to see you.
“long time no see.” sungchan said.
you looked up from the bar and you couldn’t help but smile at him too.
“you’re the one that never comes to class,” you said. “we did really good on our project, by the way.”
“i know. i moved to a different class so i can—it doesn’t really matter actually.” sungchan said.
you both sat there awkwardly, waiting for the conversation to flow the same way it did all those months ago. you weren’t sure if your friend told sungchan about you, if you knew about their tumultuous relationship. sungchan seemed to know something, because he suddenly leaned to whisper into your ear asking if he could talk to you in private.
when sungchan got you alone in the tiny bathroom, he said nothing. he looked everywhere but at you, trying to find out what he wanted to say. you thought about your friend outside, how upset she would be if she found you so close to sungchan. she left your mind as you looked at sungchan. you hated that he didn’t come to class anymore, depriving you of you favorite thing to look at in class. you would be lying if you wouldn’t look at sungchan’s back while the teacher droned on about chemical bonds and imagine what he looked like without his shirt off. it was juvenile, but it got you through the day.
it only got worse after your project and sungchan’s absence in class made you miss him even more. without something to focus on your mind began to wander to filthier things, like what sounds he made or words he word say. being so close to him made you recall moments underneath your sheets where you pretended your fingers were his.
“i need to ask you something.” sungchan said.
you nodded your head towards sungchan, encouraging him to go on.
“why didn’t you tell me about her?” sungchan asked.
he looked sad as he explained to you how awful your friend was. all of the missing holes in her story suddenly made sense. you hated to admit you didn’t believe your friend, seeing how she acted in previous relationships. but now you saw how her toxicity effected sungchan directly. sungchan talked about her ex, how she cheated on him. you bit your tongue to stop yourself from asking why he went back. you knew that he didn’t have the answer and you knew your friend to be very charming when she had to be.
“i’m sorry.” is all you could say after sungchan told you everything.
i would never treat you that way threatened to slip past your lips but you stood your ground. sungchan looked at you expectantly, like he was wanting more before he got a text asking where he was. he snuck out of the bathroom and you downed the drink in your hand.
the rest of the gathering you spent drinking. you felt a deep regret for not being able to comfort sungchan, to say something more than sorry. there was no reason for you to be sorry. he had the chance to leave, it was his choice to stay. you ignored him for the rest of the party, watching your friend constantly leave the room to talk to someone on her phone. by then end of the night your friend had left to god knows where. you had assumed sungchaan had left with her until you left. you found sungchan sitting outside on the stoop of the apartment building.
when he saw you he got up suddenly, stumbling a little bit. he must’ve been drinking too.
“she had an early morning tomorrow, so she left.” sungchan said.
“she left you at this party where you don’t know anybody?” you asked.
“i know you. she told me you live in the same building as me so maybe we could catch a ride together?” sungchan asked.
“let’s do it.” you say.
you stand beside sungchan waiting for him to finish booking the ride on the phone. if he was waiting outside and was going to pay for it completely by himself he could’ve left a long time ago. you were never good at reading people, but sungchan was like an open book. you knew he was craving something tender and loving, intimacy that was lacking in his relationship. the alcohol in your system buzzed and receptors in your brain fired off when sungchan opened the car door for you.
you were in the backseat of the car together for only a moment before you scooted to the middle seat. you let your thighs touch sungchan’s before fully leaning into him. he stiffened beside you but didn’t move. when the car exited the parking he brought a hand to rest on your thigh. you put your hand over his and looked at him. you found that sungchan was already looking at you, his eyes staring directly into yours. when the car got on the highway you took a gentle hand to his face and pulled him in for a kiss. the rest of the journey to the building his lips were on yours, sucking on your bottom lip as his hands pulled your face closer.
you two didn’t break apart until the driver stopped in front of your apartment building. you watched sungchan tip the driver extra and he followed behind you closely as you got into the elevator.
you pressed the button to take you to the seventh floor. sungchan’s hand hesitated before pressing the number five. you couldn’t stop your heart from dropping.
“we shouldn’t.” sungchan whispered as the door closed.
“we really shouldn’t.” you agreed.
as the elevator took you up, you noticed sungchan getting closer to you. you slowly let him back you into a corner of the tiny space, your body leaned against the elevator walls. you looked up at the man in front of you, aware of how he towered over you. in any other situation you would’ve been scared, but there was something so soft about the way sungchan looked at you.
the same hand that pulled you closer to him in the car came to rest on your face. sungchan swiped a thumb across your lip, still glossy from his spit.
“i’m a bad boyfriend.” sungchan whispered.
the elevator door opened to the fifth floor. you and sungchan both watched the door to the elevator close before lifting both of you to the seventh floor.
that night sugnchan didn’t go to his room. he fucked you in the entry way of your room up against the wall, not even giving you a chance to make it to the bedroom. he moaned and bit your skin, telling you he wished it was you he ended up with. how he wished what he was doing didn’t feel so good. you let sungchan mark you and touch you the way he wanted, moaning in agreement to his words. you wished being a terrible friend felt bad, but all you felt was euphoria as sungchan had you pinned against the wall.
sungchan was strong but he was gentle, pressing kisses to your face as he slid in. he carried you to your bedroom and you rode him, telling him that he deserved good things in life too. when sungchan pulled you to the crook of his neck he let out a broken whine as he came inside of you. you clenched around him and he rubbed your clit until you did the same.
that night set the dynamic for your relationship. you had to set up rules and sungchan followed them with no complaints. he would do anything you told him as long as he got to come and see you. it became a part of your routine, getting a text from sungchan late in the night asking if he could come over. it got easier with time, lying to your friend. you saw it as karma for how terrible she was towards sungchan and towards you. you stopped thinking about her after a month, no longer trying to have revenge on your toxic friend. it became more about sungchan, trying to mend him back together with kisses and sex.
it was raining this time when sungchan came to you. he was soaking wet, caught in the torrential rain outside. you wanted to believe that he came here to see you, but the downcast look on his face and flower in his hand told you a different story.
“can i come in?” sungchan asked you.
you don’t know why he continued to ask you questions like this, as if you could ever bring yourself to say no to him. you nodded your head and opened your door all the way, letting the man through.
he got water on your carpet as he took off his outer layer of clothes. sungchan stood in the entry way, waiting for you to tell him what to do. you remembered the clothes he left over at your place last time he visited.
“wait here i’ll get you a towel and clothes.” you said before walking away.
when your arrangement first started, you would always interrogate sungchan on what transpired when he’d show up at your door. sungchan would just shrug his shoulders and mutter the situation under his breath shamefully.
she’s seeing her ex again.
i was locked out.
we had a big argument.
she needed time to cool off.
after awhile you stopped asking sungchan for the details. the curiosity and worry used to eat away at you, seeing someone usually so happy close to tears. you thought you’d never see sungchan the way you saw him every late night he came to your door. you always wondered if she ever thought she was in the wrong.
you stopped asking sungchan because you could see it physically pain him to talk about something with the wound so fresh. he would normally just tell you what happened while he had you bent over a table, or when he had your chest pressed against his.
you knew that leading up to the sex, sungchan needed the tenderness that was absent in his real relationship. so you would wordlessly let him into your apartment, warm him up leftovers, and hand him clothes to change into. after everything, you two would snuggle on your couch together watching television. he would hold you so close and thank you profusely, gratitude you would wave off with a hand. you could tell that the moments you spent together healed him just enough to go back. you could also tell that sungchan was very grateful for everything, and he always made sure to give it back to you in bed. the night would always end with both of you just looking to the other and silently pleading. you would open the door for sungchan and he would kiss you deeply. it was the type of kiss that you thought was reserved for girlfriends only, the type of kiss that made you believe he didn’t want to leave you.
doing acts of service for sungchan always made you feel conflicted. when he was with you, couldn’t help but feel responsible for him in ways you couldn’t really comprehend. it started off with just sex. you were always determined to make him feel good like continuing to ride him even if your legs were burning from the exertion or taking in all of him even when you felt like you were being split open. maybe you looked at his face when he was in a state of bliss too much, maybe that’s what got you attached. since you and sungchan started your arrangement you found yourself thinking about him more and more. when he wasn’t around you hoped he was doing well, at night before you slept you would be thinking about him.
thinking about him so often made it hard to remember that he wasn’t yours. sungchan had you wanting to hold his hand at friend gatherings. you always came to your senses right at the last second. reaching out a hand to him you had to pull away quickly when your friend came from the other room. leaning against the wall instead of leaning against sungchan when she wasn’t looking. looking for sungchan’s face in the crowd while he followed closely behind his girlfriend. as time passed you got used to it. you knew that he was looking for your face in the crowd too.
sungchan had his hand on the back of the couch, letting you curl into him and he traced patterns on your clothed shoulder. you two had found your own domestic routine, shrouded in infidelity. it’s all too much when you think about it for too long, that’s why you’re grateful when sungchan slightly squeezes your thigh. you look away from the tv show to him.
“i missed you.” sungchan says.
he pinches your cheek and you smile at the affection. he looked so handsome like this, with his hair slightly wet form the rain. before you knew it you were running your hands through his strands, turning your body to face him better.
“i missed you too.” you said.
sungchan leaned his head back as you continued to play with his hair. he smiled and he felt like his heart leaped out of his chest hearing that you missed him.
“how much did you miss me?” sungchan asks, eying you.
you are still playing with his hair trying to think of a quantity. you could tell him then and there that you wish he could be with you the same way he was with his girlfriend, and that you could treat him better. a million things rush through your mind, all of them being admissions of love. so instead of talking, you use your hands to hold sungchan’s face.
“you know i’m not good with words,” you look into his eyes before looking at his lips. “i can show you, though.”
a second doesn’t even pass before sungchan picks you up from the couch bridal style. you always laugh when he carries you like this, holding you like you’re nothing.
he always took the time to set you gently on the bed, standing in front of you to take off his shirt. sungchan always made sure to show you how grateful he was, giving you a little show while he undressed himself. he knew you loved to gawk at his body. you dragged him to the edge of the bed by the waistband of his pants. you ran. a hand over his abs, hard underneath his soft skin. he was mesmerizing, you couldn’t understand how anybody could be mean to someone so beautiful.
“your body…” you said.
sungchan said nothing in response as his hands to the end of your shirt, helping you out of it. he threw it somewhere else in the room as he gently pushed your shoulders down until your back was on the bed. he helped you out of your pajama pants, leaving you only in your underwear. you move more to the center of the bed, giving sungchan the space to come lay next to you as he took his pants off. you lift the sheets and settle underneath them, lifting up the end for sungchand to slide in next to you.
sungchan liked taking off underwear underneath the sheets. you imagined he liked it because it was the most intimate that way, revealing all of yourself underneath the sheets. this wasn’t the way it was all the time though. sometimes sungchan would be extra pent up, desperate to the point that he would eat you out over your panties, or only push them to the side before fucking you. sometimes he would be a little mean, fucking into you while you grabbed onto anything for support. it was hard to decide what you preferred, the vanilla sungchan or the desperate kinky sungchan. no matter what you got, you were always satisfied.
after he got into the sheets next to you, sungchan’s hands immediately went to your hips. he guided you out of your panties and to rest above his body, dragging your heat against his clothed dick. he twitched and strained in his boxers feeling you, and you were sure you were getting slick on his boxers. you start grinding your hips into his as sungnchan lets his hands roam your body.
“i want you so bad.” sungchan says.
“you got me.” you say.
his hands go to the back of your bra to undo the clasp. you let your bra fall off of you, and sungchan’s hand goes to your breast. you try to raise your body from sungchan’s to get a better angle to grind on him, but a hand keeps you two chest to chest.
“want you close.” sungchan whines.
you keep grinding on him at a slow and grueling pace. you were getting impatient with want filling your brain. sungchan was a masochist in this way, making himself wait to fuck you until he couldn’t take it anymore. you’re sure it had something to do with the guilt of cheating on his girlfriend. you figured that when sungchan screwed his eyes shut as he dragged your hips against his that he was trying to convince himself to leave your apartment. maybe he was pretending that you were his girlfriend. these were the things you only wanted to think about when he wasn’t there, not wen his dick was pressed against you like this.
“sungchan.” you whimpered.
he opened his large doe eyes to look at you. you leaned into him closely, until your lips touched his ear.
“please fuck me.” you whispered.
sungchan lifted his hips to take off his underwear and you helped him push it off with your feet.
sungchan takes his dick in his hand and you grab it too. he has to close his eyes again to let out a content sigh. something about the way you touched him just felt so nice, something he wasn’t sure he deserved to experience. but every night you let him in, so he must have earned it somehow.
“i love when you hold it.” sungchan said.
his voice was barely above a whisper, having to use all his effort to hold the moans back.
“you like it alot?” you said, giving his dick short pumps for emphasis.
sungchan nodded. he should really stop using the word love around you.
“i like it alot.” sungchan moaned.
“can i put it in baby?” you ask.
your voice has become whiny too. sungchan uses his hand to quickly guide himself inside of you and pushes your hips down to take all of him. you are moaning into the crook of his neck as you slowly take all of him.
“you’re so tight.” sungchan says. ”should’ve fingered you first. i’m sorry.”
“don’t apologize. it feels so good.” you whimper.
knowing that you feel good goads sungchan on. he lets you adjust only for a moment before rocking his hips back into you, pulling his face away from yours to see your reaction. he can feel himself throbbing at the way you clench around him, the way your eyes close from the pleasure.
“just wanna make you feel good.” sungchan says.
“you always make me feel good.” you say.
you start moving your hips the same way sungchan moves his, meeting him in the middle. you bring a hand to rest on his and sungchan’s and. he holds it.
sungchan can hear your bed creak under the weight and movement of your bodies. there were times sungchan would have your bed screaming for mercy, threatening to break underneath his harsh thrusts as he fucked you. he loved the sound of the harsh creaking, wearing it like a badge of honor. but he loved this sound move—light and constant like rain.
sugnchan couldn’t comprehend why he felt so at peace rocking into you. he brought your head from his neck to rest your forehead against his. you opened your eyes to look at him and sungchan could see his reflection in your blown out pupils. the sight makes him desperate, it brings him closer to his euphoria.
“she doesn’t treat me like you do.” sungchan said.
your eyes didn’t change as you processed what he said.
“i know.” you said simply. “harder. please.”
sungchan lets himself thrust into you a little harder, throwing off the tempo you both had fallen into. the soft creak of the bed changes to something a little harsher. sungchan’s large hand is placed over yours on his hip and he digs the pads of his fingers into your hip bone. sungchan hold your eye contact as your hips still.
“i wish you were mine.” sungchan moans between his thrusts.
you clench around him and you cry out. you don’t know if it’s from his confession, the spot he hit, or a mixtue of both. regardless, it has you digging your nails into sungchan’s skin as a tear falls on his face.
“i wish you were, too.” you confess.
you start moving your hips again
“i would leave her if it meant i could have you.”
you shake your head at his words. you’re too close, too emotional to hear things sungchan might just be saying because he’s horny and lonely. you know that this ends with him going back until next time. so you grab a handful of his hair and tug lightly. you know sungchan loves the pain by the way he pulses inside of you.
“don’t think about her, just me.” you say breathlessly into his ear. you wished that what you said came off as jealousy. but both you and sungchan know that you are the one who occupies his mind. “cum for me, sungchan.”
you swear you hear sungchan say i love you as he releases inside of you. he holds you tight. as he takes the lead fucking into you, his teeth biting into your sweaty skin. you have to grip the sheets beside sungchan’s head to steady yourself as he fucks you deep and hard. his thrusts and whines of your name has you cumming too. sungchan fucks you well after his orgasm, making sure you can feel the same pleasure he felt. you can’t stop yourself from kissing his forehead after breaking apart from his lips. you kiss the hair that sticks to his forehead from the sweat and the apple of his cheeks. you kiss his teeth as his pulls of of you, and he brings you into a passionate kiss as you feel him seeping out of you.
sungchan keeps you on top of him, loving how he feels underneath your weight. you’re comforting and warm surrounding him completely. he doesn’t have any regrets about telling you he loves you, only that he wishes he said it louder so you could’ve heard it. maybe next time he will say it to you while you still have your clothes on. maybe he would tell you after taking you out on a proper date. sungchan wants to hold you there forever, he wants to cry when you slide your sticky body off of his to lay in the bed beside him.
laying there in silence with sungchan was too comforting. although your breath had settled back to its normal pace your heart was hammering in your chest. you thought it would burst if you continued to think about his offer just as you started thinking about sungchan’s offer snd how warm his hand was when he grabbed yours. you had to constantly tell yourself that you held sungchan’s hand for his benefit alone. you told yourself that he needed the innocent contact and the intimacy that came with it. you told yourself that he needed you to grip his hand a little tighter, that he needed you to turn to your side to look him in the eyes. you told yourself these lies to rationalize why you delicately brush his hair out of his face and why you scoot closer to him.
you think about his offer again, how this could be your view every night. you would never put him through the emotional turmoil your friend put him through. maybe sungchan could be the thing that finally pushed you to cut her off completely. you could only imagine the rumors she would spread about you. it was hard to think it wouldn’t be worth it when sungchan brought you into his chest.
sungchan’s phone went off and you instinctively freed yourself from his embrace. as you sat up on the bed letting your legs dangle over the side you could feel sungchan’s eyes bore holes into your skin. the phone continued to ring. you put on your most comforting voice before looking over your shoulder at him.
“you can answer it. i don’t mind.”
sungchan doesn’t do anything but sigh before reaching to the bedside table.
“hey.” sungchan says quietly into the phone.
the happiness in his voice was completely gone and the tender atmosphere in your room vanished. it suddenly felt so cold and sungchan felt so far away from you.
you could hear the dull murmur of your friend on the other end of the line. you weren’t sure what she was saying exactly, but you could get the gist through sungchan’s responses.
where are you?
sungchan looked at you before turning away to focus on the phone call.
“i’m at eunseok’s.” sungchan said.
you got up from the bed to put on the rest of your clothes. you were as quiet as you possibly could be, trying not to make any sounds that would be picked up by the phone.
why is your location off?
“where else would i go?” sungchan asked.
he looked at you as he asked the question. you held eye contact for a split second before pulling your pants up your legs.
are you ready to apologize yet?
“we aren’t going to talk about what happened first?”
you aren’t sure what your friend said next. all you know is that sungchan pulled the phone away from his ear to grimace. you could hear your friend got louder over the phone, the speakers peaking from the yelling.
you couldn’t stand to see sungchan so distressed so you left the room. you walked into the living room, picking up clothes that were strewn around in the heat of the moment. you took sungchan’s clothes out of the dryer, gathering his shirt and pants in your hands to bring it back to him.
you don’t know what was said after you left your bedroom, but you came back to sungchan gathering his things. you handed him his clothes, trying to seem as indifferent as possible.
“we are going to talk it out.” sungchan said.
“that’s good.” you said.
the notion that sungchan would inevitably go back always made moments like these awkward. where he would change out of his clothes and you had to think up a question to make it seem like your friend was being rational. you started choosing silence, just telling sungchan what he needed to hear to go back to her.
sungchan got dressed and left your bedroom. you followed behind him, staring at his back as you two went through your routine. he gathered the remainder of his things, slipping his phone into his back pocket and taking his keys off your command center. he would look at you with his puppy dog eyes, silently begging you to tell him to stay. you looked at him back the same way, silently begging him to out himself first for once.
something felt different when you opened the door for sungchan this time. sungchan lingered a little longer in your door way, looking at your ball up fists at your side. you looked at him too, wondering what was going to happen next. you thought you were going to draw blood from your nails digging into your palms. the tension was undecipherable and thick, making your mind hazy.
you mind was cleared when sungchan closed the distance between the two of you. he kissed you desperately, and you reciprocated. your movements were even hastier than his, fisting the fabric of his white tee and leaning back so he was towering over you. sungchan wrapped his arms around your back and brought you closer.
you still had your lips puckered when sungchan pulled away from you. he looked down at you, adoration all over his face. his hands that wrapped around were moved to enclose your hands. he brought them to his face before kissing the back of your hands. sungchan looked scared, going over something in his mind a million times.
“can i stay here with you tonight?” sungchan asked.
you couldn’t stop your eyes from widening. his grip on his hands only tightened and you understood how nervous he felt. that’s why you immediately squeezed his hands back and nodded. sungchan pulled you into another kiss, this time slow and passionate. you closed the door and smiled into the kiss.
you were a bad friend.
sungchan was an even worse ex-boyfriend.
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hello! :D I'm not sure if your request are open but if they are could you please write about reader and marauders playing a game something like answering questions and if they don't answer they have to drink and reader is asked who they would rather kiss (or something along those lines) out of them all and reader says Remus and they both get all flustered and the rest of the group is teasing them and whatnot and they end up telling each other about their feelings for one another like the next day or something
im sorry if this ask is like all over the place anywhooo thank you so much!<3 i love your writing btw :)
My requests are open babe, thank you!
cw: drinking game
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 837 words
Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and your laughter bubbles up out of you with scarcely any prompting.
“Alright, alright,” Marlene says, “James, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”
James hardly hesitates. “Quidditch pitch.”
You slap a palm across your mouth, and your little circle bursts into howling laughter.
“It was really dark, though!” James justifies. “No one would’ve been able to see us if they’d looked. Anyway, my turn.” He looks around the circle, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Pads.” Sirius looks up. “When you said you’d never had sex in my bed, were you lying?”
Sirius presses his lips together, looking suspiciously like he’s suppressing a smile, and drinks.
“Wha—that’s as good as an answer!” James sputters. “You prick, learn some boundaries!”
“No clue what you’re talking about.” Sirius shrugs. “Okay…y/n.” You bite your lip, doing your best to make your eyes look wide and sweet in the hopes he’ll go easy on you. “Of everyone here right now, who would you rather kiss?”
You freeze, trying to keep your gaze from darting to your immediate answer. “I…I don’t know,” you say.
Sirius shakes his head, smirking. “Not good enough, sweetheart.”
“Careful,” Marlene warns, “I don’t know if you can handle drinking much more.”
“Yeah, Pads, just let ‘er off,” Remus says. “Don’t make her sick because of you.”
“All she has to do is answer,” Sirius argues, but it’s alright, because you’ve seen your opening.
You take it. “Remus,” you say, as though the idea has just occurred to you, “because he’s being nicer to me than the rest of you.”
The group erupts in cheers and boos, and Remus’ cheeks color pink.
“Plus,” you go on, emboldened by the warmth of booze in your chest, “he wouldn’t make it weird. None of the rest of you would ever let me forget it.”
“Oi!” James protests. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Yeah, right,” Marlene laughs. “Sirius, who did James kiss last week?”
Sirius tilts his head. “Do you mean on Sunday or Tuesday?”
Marlene smirks.
“Whatever,” James says, but he’s smiling. “You’re all just jealous, Y/N too. Remus, you’d better take good care of this one. She’s got high standards, apparently.”
Now your face is warming too, and Remus nudges you with his shoulder. “It’s your turn, love,” he says. “Get him back.”
You grin. “Excellent idea. James, did you sleep in your bed after you thought Sirius had sex in it?”
James eyes go wide behind his glasses as his cheeks redden, and Remus chuckles beside you.
As usual, it’s you and Remus cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed. James would typically at least offer to help, but he’s busy patting Sirius’ back as his friend purges everything he drank tonight in the community bathroom. You’d offered to tidy yourself and let Remus go upstairs, but he’d only said “don’t be silly” and started picking up discarded cups alongside you.
“It got a bit much tonight, didn’t it?” you ask, aiming for casual but only hitting awkward.
Remus hums. “I don’t think any more than usual.” He gives you a knowing look, made worse by his tiny smile. “They don’t usually pick on you, though, so I’m sure it felt different.”
You laugh nervously. “I guess so. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it, huh?”
“Well, they make it easy to dish,” he says mildly. “Anyway, it’s like you said. If you’d even said you’d kiss any of them, they’d never’ve shut up about it.”
You tense but nod, bending to dab at a stain of spilled drink someone left in the rug. “Yup. That’s why I picked you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
You turn, and Remus is looking at you evenly despite his flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says softly, kindly, “that if they’d asked me, I would’ve picked you too. So I guess I’m just wondering, would you have picked me, if you weren’t worried about everyone teasing you?”
The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s ready to accept whatever answer you give. Remus is watching you curiously, but there’s a bashfulness around his eyes. He wants to know, but he’ll let you off the hook in a second if you indicate that’s what you want.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I’d pick you.”
Remus looks like the breath goes out of him. He takes a step toward you. “Why?”
“I don’t need a reason,” you admit. Not one that makes sense, anyway. It’s just him.
Remus’ smile is borderline shy. “I’ve got tons.”
“Yeah?” It’s more breath than word.
“Mhm. Wanna hear ‘em?”
“That’s okay,” you say, and rise on your tiptoes, kissing him.
Remus kisses just like you knew he would. Soft and sweet, with little hints of urgency in the press of his hand against your back, the insistent sound he makes in the back of his throat. And you don’t need a single reason to want to kiss Remus Lupin, but you’ve got tons too.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fluff#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#marauders era#the marauders#marauders#hp marauders#marauders fandom
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Protector pt. 2
Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader
Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective Ghost, smut 18+ mdni (nothing hardcore. I’m not good at writing it)
Words: 16.5k
Synopsis: Ghost will always protect you...
Part 1
A/N: there are literally no words for me to describe how appreciative and happy it makes me that so many of you guys liked the first part. I wanted to reply to all of you but it would’ve been too much so I hope that this second part will be enough as thanks ❤️ this is for my 1000 followers.
Thank you guys for being so patient with how long this took. I’m so sorry for the wait.
A sob followed by fast breathing made Ghost's eyes snap open immediately.
His heart pounded against his chest as he searched frantically around the room for you. Memories, flashes of your beaten body in front of him begging for mercy, crying and screaming out for somebody to help you, for Ghost to help you and he couldn’t.
Ghost failed you. He let you get hurt again, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep even though it had felt so peaceful with you sleeping beside him. He should’ve been awake to make sure that you were okay, to make sure that the doctor and nurses had been on time to give you more medicine so you didn't have to relive those awful memories again.
It made him panic. He had to help you, he had to make sure you were safe.
He couldn’t think straight, the medicine had worn off and the pain clouded his mind while the sleep was wearing off, and he forgot where you were.
The medicine had worn off for both of you, but you didn’t know that it was safe. You were confused and the pain didn’t help especially when you couldn’t move, it only made panic set in, which made you feel even worse.
“Ghost…” You sobbed and he gripped the edge of his bed so tight the scabs on his knuckles reopened.
“I’m here.” He pushed off the bed to try to get to you and nearly fell when stepped down with his injured leg. He clenched his jaw so tight and forced himself to stand up by using the bed for support. “You’re okay.”
The machines tugged him back and he nearly yelled with anger before he ripped everything off him, the EKG screaming out a beep from being disconnected. He didn’t pay attention to it, his eyes locked onto you as he tried to move forward but collapsed against the wall in pain. Hot pain flushed from his leg and when he looked down he could see red staining the bandages that covered the bullet wound.
“I’m here-” He went dizzy from the sounds and the pain, unable to keep himself upright as he fought so hard to just get to your bed.
You were crying, there were tears running down your face as you writhed in pain and near hyperventilating. He wanted nothing more than to grab you and pull you into him, to wrap his arms around you and hope that it would be enough to make you feel safe again.
How could he let this happen? Was he really that cold hearted, that cruel to make you suffer like this? You didn’t deserve this, you were too good for pain like this.
Ghost didn’t even notice the rushing nurses and doctor until he felt someone grab his arm tightly, causing him to jump and look down to see a nurse looking panicked.
“Why are you out of bed?” She asked incredulously and he ripped his arm out of her hold, glaring at her.
“Help her.” He demanded harshly and she took a few steps back. “She’s in pain, do something!”
“They’re helping her now, you need to get back in bed.”
Ghost groaned, his fists tightened before he looked back at you to see the doctor and the other nurses quickly trying to administer medicine again.
His vision got worse and he stumbled forward. He felt the nurse grab him again and tried to pull him back to his bed but he fought against her, not wanting to go back until he knew for sure that you were going to be okay and that this wasn’t serious, that you had just woken up out of a panic and that you weren’t about to code.
The nurse barked something in his ear but he wasn’t paying attention. He watched your face contort into pain, your chest heave from heavy breaths and your tears roll down your cheeks.
He hated it. He hated to see you like this.
“Sedate him and I’ll fix his stitches.” He managed to hear the doctor order and before he had any time to react, he felt the nurse stick something into his arm.
It must’ve been a powerful sedative or he had exhausted himself out as his vision went dark almost immediately, the last thing he remembered was being put back onto his bed.
Ghost jolted awake a few hours later. He had been lucky that his induced sleep was dreamless though he was still exhausted.
He blinked the drowsiness from his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The bed was a lot less comfortable now that the pain meds were wearing off again and he struggled to keep himself still as the hard mattress dug into his sore thigh. It made him huff and he rubbed his eyes with irritation as he tried his best to ignore it before he glanced towards you.
His eyes widened ever so slightly when they connected with your drowsy open ones. They were hazy, a sign that the pain meds given to you were working and that they had calmed you down from before.
You had been staring at him. There was a soft look on your face, one that couldn’t be achieved by the medicine, when he had turned to look at you. A look that should’ve been reserved for watching someone less rugged and violent than him especially after what he had done to get you here.
It locked him into his place on the bed. He couldn’t move as your eyes raked lazily over his face, taking in every detail that had once been a mystery to you.
You were looking at him as if there was something good to see. You were drinking up the scars, new and old, that peppered his skin like he was a beautiful piece of art made of soft paint rather than blood and gunpowder.
Why were you looking at him like that? It had to be the drugs, your mind was taken over by substances that made your thinking unreliable. You wouldn’t normally give him such a softness if it weren’t that.
Ghost had to tell himself that or else he would have to come to terms that he liked the way you were looking at him now. He wanted you to always look at him like that despite being undeserving of it especially after what he had put you through.
A smile, weak but warm, stretched across your face and he felt his heart skip a beat.
“Hey.” You barely spoke above a whisper but he heard you through your hoarse voice. “Never seen you sleep, kinda weird.”
“How do you feel?” He knew the answer to the question but it was difficult for him to think of anything else to say when you looked at him like that.
“Like I’m high off so many drugs.”
You let out a breathless chuckle and sluggishly rubbed your eyes, taking a moment to look away from him.
Ghost quickly pulled his mask on, finding the courage to do it when you were looking away from him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to see his face, quite the opposite if he was being honest, but right now it was too much for him. He felt safer with his feelings under the mask.
You let out a short sigh, your sides spasming as you found it difficult to take a deep breath. The pain was gone for the moment but your body still understood it was damaged and Ghost knew what the pain was going to feel like when they wore off.
When you looked back at him, your face fell with disappointment. He swallowed thickly and averted his eyes to look somewhere else on your body, opting to look at your bandaged fingers that mimicked his due to your similar injuries.
“I like your face.” You blurted out which caused his eyebrows to knit together as he looked back at you. “Should've guessed you were blond from your eyelashes.”
“Used to be blonder when I was younger.” He said and watched another smile pull at your lips when you thought of a young Ghost.
“Bet it was platinum.”
“Close to it.”
Ghost indulged in your normal conversation. He didn’t want to speak about what happened to you right now, not when you were the most conscious he had seen you since before you both had been captured. He wanted to give you a moment's reprieve, to understand that right now you were safe from harm both within your mind and outside of it.
Your body would hopefully heal without many complications but your mind would take time, a lot longer than what you would want and what he wished for you.
He would be there for you though. He always would and he hoped you knew that. Even if he wasn’t sure how he would help you, rarely even able to help himself in a way that made him feel better, but he would try for you.
He also selfishly enjoyed this, the normal conversation distracted him from all the horrible thoughts he could be thinking about. Having you talk to him this way was something he always enjoyed and he liked that even now you were still doing it.
“Are you okay?” You asked him so softly yet his eyes narrowed as if you had accused him of something.
“M’fine.”
He barely gave you a chance to continue when he sat up. Pain flushed over him, more than ever since he hadn’t moved his body for a few hours. The stiffness in his muscles turned to soreness which made his entire body ache as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. His wounded leg screamed with pain and he was careful to not rip the stitches open this time as he pressed his foot on the cold ground, suppressing a shiver and any outward sign that he was in pain.
No one would’ve been able to tell he was injured if it weren't for the fact that he was getting out of a hospital bed. He stood tall and completely unbothered with the same tired eyes as always, hidden beneath his mask.
He was a beast afterall, as Soap put it. He could’ve had more injuries sustained from the capture and he still would’ve carried you out of there. The soreness he was feeling now was nothing compared to previous injuries he’s had in the past. They were an inconvenience now, one that he wished he could get rid of but unfortunately he was still human and that meant he would have to wait.
Even so, that wasn’t going to stop him from doing as he pleased and focusing on you.
He huffed when the machines connected to him made it difficult to move. Without a second thought he ripped the wires off him and unplugged the machine before it started to alert the nurses again, causing you to gasp.
“Ghost!” You scolded him but he just ignored you and grabbed the glass of water Soap left.
You watched him intently, noting the way he had a slight limp as he walked over to you. You tried to sit up on your elbows, but you were far too weak to even get your shoulders off the bed.
Ghost wrapped an arm around your shoulders and very carefully pulled into his side when he sat on the edge of your bed. He held onto you to keep you sitting up straight and let you lean on him for support, nearly sighing with relief when he finally felt your weight on him again.
You were like glass in his arms, fragile and handled with immense care as if you would break if even an ounce of pressure was placed on you. He raised the water up to your lips to let you drink it and you managed to tilt your head back as he tipped the glass forward.
He made sure to tip it slowly so as to not spill any of it on you. He watched your eyes flutter shut with relief when you began to drink the water and he subconsciously began to rub circles into your arm with his thumb.
When you finished he went to refill the glass but you managed to have enough strength to grab onto his shirt.
“Stay.” You were breathless, having exerted all of your energy to sit up on the bed. “Please?”
You needed him. A sense of safety had washed over you when had pulled you into his warmth and when he had moved to leave, your stomach dropped. You knew that he wasn’t going to leave you and that he would come back but you didn’t want him to leave at all, not right now.
Ghost stared down into your exhausted eyes that begged him to stay put for just a little longer and his chest tightened. He couldn’t say anything, the words lost to him again as he fought the urge to lean down and place a kiss anywhere that you would allow him to. An attempt to tell you all the comforting things he wished he could say, to take away the pain with a simple touch against your skin and let you rest as if the world outside of this moment didn’t exist.
Instead, he nodded and set the glass down. He kept his arm around you and when you rested your head on his chest he stiffened for only a moment. When he realized that he liked having you against him like that, he dared to pull you just a little closer.
He listened to you soft wheezing and was reminded of how much worse it had been before. It made him glare up at the ceiling and regret that he had killed the weapons dealers already.
If he hadn’t been trying to get you out of there and it had just been him, he would’ve left them so he could find them again. He would’ve spent little time finding them and would’ve made them suffer ten times worse than you had for even thinking about putting a hand on you.
Ghost wished he could take your pain and inflict on himself so you wouldn’t have to suffer so much. You didn’t deserve to be punished for him doing his job, for keeping his mouth shut, for being too tight-lipped about worthless information. He should’ve just told them what they wanted and broken out before they killed you both so you didn’t have to go through this now.
How were you not repulsed by seeing him? How were you resting your head on his chest like this, acting as if he wasn’t the reason you couldn’t breathe, the reason why you were going to lose sleep?
The guilt festered in his stomach and boiled into his throat. He wanted to push you off of him despite how desperate he was to have you against him.
He felt you weakly tug on his shirt. His eyes softened ever so slightly when he stared down at your heavy lidded eyes. He could tell you were getting drowsy which prompted him to hesitantly place a hand on your waist so he could move you back into bed.
You hummed, your eyes falling shut for a moment and pressed your face into his chest more. You took a deep breath and your muscles loosened, your arms hanging by your side unmoving.
“Thank you.” You whispered with the intent to show gratitude but all it did was make him feel worse.
He couldn’t accept it. He didn’t deserve it, not when you could barely stay awake for more than thirty minutes. Not when you couldn’t move on your own and certainly not when you had to be pumped full of meds to even speak without feeling like you were dying. There was no reason for you to thank him for anything that he did.
“You should sleep.” He kept a steady and soft voice as he wrapped his arms around you. “Doctor will be back soon. Probably run some tests.”
“‘Kay.”
Ghost moved you with ease. It was as if you weighed nothing to him, even when his muscles were sore, as he laid you down back in bed. He treated you so gently, like you were a porcelain doll being put away as he pulled the blanket up to your chest.
He stared down at you with narrowed eyes that concerned you yet you were too tired to say anything. He moved your arms over your stomach before he moved his hand to hold onto your wrist, his finger pressing into your pulse to feel it go steady, a much better feeling than when it had been weak.
Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you placed your smaller hand over his, your thumb sluggishly caressing his scarred knuckles.
“Sleep.” He repeated, causing you to hum.
He moved his hand away from your wrist and limped back to his bed. He kept every wince in, feeling that his pain was nothing compared to yours, that he had the audacity to even express that he was hurting around you.
He sat on the edge of his bed. He didn’t care to hook himself back up to the machine or to plug it back in as he stared at your now unconscious form. He gripped the bed tightly under him and clenched his jaw as he watched you sleep.
Ghost wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, staring at you completely enamored by you again yet his heart hurt a lot more than normal. He wondered if this would be the last time you would get actual sleep and doubted that a few days from now you’d be able to stay on the meds. He dreaded the moment he would have to hear your pained cries again, just the memory of it making him feel sick.
A sigh left his chest as he heard approaching footsteps that brought him out of his thoughts.
More tests, more pain, and nothing he could do to help you.
~
You weren’t sure how to react when you felt your lieutenant’s stare on your back as you walked into the training room.
On one hand, you didn’t mind having him watching you.
It was Ghost, you had worked with and known him for a few years now. You knew his mannerisms, his little ticks and what he was feeling when you watched him, finding out that he was actually very expressive for someone who hid their face as much as he did. You had managed to befriend him over the years and though he would never openly call you his friend, you both had some sort of connection between you.
That connection ran deep, into the way you both found solitude together in both quiet and loud moments. On missions you two talked to keep each other in check, to understand what mindset you both were in and if it was one you could work with.
Jokes, little things done for each other whether the other person asked for it or not, and on the rare occasion talking about what was really wrong with you both is what kept you both close.
It shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise to you as it had been when you found out you were in love with your lieutenant, it was obvious when you thought back on it. To the moments where you would practically confess your love to him through your eyes, the little touches you gave him so you could just have a tiny taste of the warmth that radiated off his body, the need to be there for him and to listen to him when he gave you the honor of opening up.
You wanted to believe that the moments you spent with Ghost were that of friends, of co-workers because that’s who you’re supposed to be. But to you it was much more than that now.
So you were happy to feel his eyes on you as you wrapped your hands in preparation for a sparring match. You liked when he watched over you because you knew that you were safe when he did.
On the other hand, this was a stare that wasn’t exactly kind.
In reality, Ghost was glaring at you. His eyes were narrowed, pointed on you as he watched every movement you took, every twitch in your muscles. He was almost like a predator waiting for its prey to drop its guard to attack.
He was pissed and you noticed it the moment your eyes met when you walked into the training room. He wasn’t trying to hide it either, especially when you offered a smile and a wave, he just stood there glaring at you.
You knew why.
It had been a month. A month since he had carried you to safety and a week or so since you had been discharged from the infirmary. You were still healing, your ribs hadn’t fully healed and you got frequent headaches from your concussion still. Most of the cuts had been stitched back, leaving scars across your skin, the most prominent one being a nasty gash that stretched from your left temple to eyelid.
You weren’t supposed to be super active, the doctor ordering you to take walks instead of train until you were back to full health, but you were going a little crazy. The walks weren’t enough to keep your stiffness or the restlessness away and you were desperate to get back into your old routine.
Today was a good day, with barely any bad thoughts and no panic attacks or crying spells. You were lucky to still have those good days and every day day you had made you more grateful for when you were okay.
You glanced back at Ghost.
He was still glaring at you. You wanted to tell him to stop and that you were fine but ever since you both got back, he seemed to believe that you were still in constant pain. More like soreness but he was insistent that you followed doctors orders and made sure you didn’t do anything at all, almost making it so you could even go on your doctor ordered walks.
However you would take the glare instead of the pitiful look he gave you most of the time.
“You could spar with me if you’re that worried.” You offered, which made his eyes narrow at you even more.
“I want you to leave.” He demanded and you had to suppress a laugh.
“You can’t force me to sit in my room all day.”
“I can.”
You gave him a look but he didn’t falter which made you shake your head.
Ghost was in a particularly bad mood today which meant he was more stubborn than usual. Usually his bad moods helped fuel him to get through missions with precision and efficiency since it was a good way to get it out of his system. He rarely ever let himself get into a bad mood and was able to control his emotions pretty well, but recently his patience had run thin.
You wondered if he was going through what happened too, it only made sense. He had been beaten to shit too.
“I know my limits. This is just going to be a warm up.” You explained to him but he shook his head.
“If you knew your limits you wouldn’t be here.” He argued. “You haven’t given your ribs enough time to heal.”
“Did you give your leg enough time to heal?”
You gave him an expectant look but he only stared back at you. While he was busy watching you all of the time it gave you the chance to watch him as well and you noticed that he still had a slight limp. You also noticed the way he would flex the hand he broke, most likely trying to get the stiffness to go away.
You could only assume the reason why they were still acting up was because he had walked out of the infirmary a week before you which had not nearly been enough time to heal his wounds.
It was a little hypocritical in your mind and made you just a little annoyed. You appreciated that he was looking out for you and honestly it made your chest warm a lot more than it should've, but you were starting to feel smothered.
You were still strong.
“I’m a big girl.” You said and you saw him fight an eye roll. “I’ll be fine.”
You didn’t give him the chance to argue further as you walked towards the sparring mats. You eyed a lot of the rookies who were training today under Soap’s supervision with curiosity, noting that many of them were being sloppy in their forms.
You almost wanted to point that out to Ghost since if they were being this bad at sparring, it would be a walk in the park. You’d be surprised if you broke a sweat.
“How the fuck did any of ya get here?” Soap yelled being the most annoyed you had seen him in a long time.
“Rough day.” You commented and he groaned, causing you to give him a small smile.
“Price must have it out for me, I’m losin’ my head here.”
You chuckled and found that your attention stayed on him rather than the rookies in front of you. You found that looking at your fellow sergeant was a lot more calm than watching the sparring matches in front of you. Now that you were up closer, you could see that even though the rookies were sloppy with their moves, they were still being rough as they normally would be.
Soap kept you calm despite the fact that often he was the one who had the most energy. Usually you would feed off of it, but lately you hadn’t felt well enough to keep up with him. Now anytime you were with him he seemed to be more on the lowkey side which made you wonder if he was doing that on purpose or not.
“L.t. know you’re here?” Soap wondered and you hummed.
“Yeah, he knows.” You muttered, not looking back because you knew he was still watching you judging by the fact you could still feel his eyes on you.
“And he let you stay?”
You sent him a look but he only looked worried at you. It made you shift uncomfortably in your spot and you wanted to look away from him but there was nowhere else for you to look.
You didn’t know how to react to everyone’s extreme worry for you. It wasn;t a surprise that they cared for you but with the amount that they expressed you wondered if maybe they believed you were never good enough for this job in the first place.
So what if you had been tortured? It’s a rare occurrence for everyone who works in this field but it did happen and it wasn’t like you were the first person to get beat to shit. It made you feel like maybe you would always be this way, that there was no way you were going to recover.
“He wants to kick me out.” You said and Soap let out an amused huff.
“You gonna let him?” He wondered and you gave him a small smile.
“No.”
A rookie slammed another rookie on the sparring mat and you flinched. Your heart rate picked up as they wrestled with each other and you crossed your arms to hide the slight shakiness in your hands, finding it hard to continue watching them. Instead, you tried to direct your attention to someone else, only to find that any sight of sparring was making you nauseous.
You felt exposed, like everyone was staring at you, like everyone could see adrenaline running through your veins and you wanted to hide.
An image of a dirty room, the smell of copper stuck in your nose, the sound of your struggling breaths and the body of the one you loved bound to a chair spitting out blood.
Approaching footsteps, terror, the scramble to try to escape but not getting anywhere, the pleas for it to stop.
The pain. The searing hot pain that made you want it all to end.
“Y/n.”
Ghost’s voice was right next to and pulled you out of the horrendous images, leaving you clammy and your heart nearly beating out of your chest.
You blinked a few times and when you moved to look at him, you could feel the tension in your muscles slowly dissipate as you remembered where you were.
There was a soft look in his eyes that made your heart slow down. He extended his hand hesitantly and brushed his knuckles against your arm so lightly that if it weren’t for the tingling sensation that was left behind from his warmth, you would’ve thought he hadn’t touched you at all.
It was the most comfort you assumed you could be given by him, whether that be because you both were in public or because he couldn’t give you anymore, but it was enough to make you realize that you were safe.
No matter what happened to you, you would be safe because of Ghost. He would do anything to keep you safe and you knew it, the fact that he had completely ignored his injuries to carry you said more about that than any words could.
You let out a deep breath and some of the panic went with it.
There went the good day.
Ghost had that pity look in his eyes and everything went sour. Even with the mask on you could see it, you could see the way his eyebrows tensed together as he wondered about the poor state you were in.
You were fine.
Your eyes narrowed and you looked back at the sparring mats, determined to find someone who was waiting for their next match. Not only could you prove to Ghost and anyone else who must’ve thought the same way that you were capable, this would be a good way to take your mind off of what just happened.
Your eyes landed on a rookie who was drinking some water.
He was much taller than you and a little bigger, but that didn’t mean he would be any better than you. In fact, judging by the way his shoulders slumped he seemed to have a shy demeanor.
“Rookie!” You called out to him and he looked up at you with surprise. “Want another round?”
“Sure.” He set down his water and made his way onto a free space in the mats.
You went to meet him before a firm hand grabbed your arm, causing you to clench your jaw when you looked back at Ghost.
“Sergeant.” His tone was as much of a warning as his hardened eyes were. You were one bad experience away from being thrown out of the training room and he made sure you understood that.
You didn’t falter and you knew you were playing a dangerous game by defying your lieutenant. It was almost a shock to you at how insubordinate you were but then again he hadn’t ordered you to get out yet, all he had done was give you warnings or concerns from a place of friendship rather than a place of work.
“You sure you want to fight ‘em?” Soap eyed you with concern causing you to groan. “I don’t think-“
“Will you two stop it?” You ripped your arm from Ghost. “I’m fine.”
You glared at them both and as much as you wanted to tell them off, to yell at them so they would get the point and to get your frustration out but you couldn’t. There was no point in that, it wouldn’t solve anything in fact you were sure it would make things worse by pushing them away for both you and them.
You had to tell yourself they were trying to help, even when they were being this overbearing.
Instead, you let out a huff and sent them a short glare to get them to back off before you made your way to the rookie.
“Go easy, yeah?” Soap called out to you both but you didn’t say anything.
You stood in front of the rookie with a smile in an attempt to shake the thoughts from your head and to ignore the stares you were getting from the sidelines. You took a deep breath when he returned the smile and shook out any of the nerves that you still had.
The rookie seemed friendly, especially when you directed him to take a stance in front of you and fixed his form for him.
“Let’s not do anything rough.” You told him because despite the fact that you wanted to prove yourself, you did know your limits.
“Yes ma’am.”
You snorted and shook your head, finding it almost sweet that the rookie would be that respectful to you, before you threw a punch towards him. You almost laughed at the expression on his face when it connected with his chest, the light punch being barely a tap, before you went to hit him again.
The rookie tried to dodge but wasn��t fast enough. Every punch you threw landed and with each movement you felt yourself slowly start to feel back to normal.
Each dodge from the rookie's fist made you feel alive again, you were breathing heavily but it felt good, there was barely any pain and the rush from being untouchable made you confident. It was almost as if nothing had happened and that made you feel so much better about yourself than a month's worth of recovery had.
The rookie got sloppy the longer you went. He seemed to be worn out with how quick you were, being unable to catch a break from your relentless punches. If this was a normal spar, one where you weren’t pulling your punches and going easier, he would’ve been out already and that fed your ego more than it should’ve.
His eyebrows were knitted in concentration and a flash of determined annoyance across his face. He seemed to change his entire demeanor as he got tired of you playing with him and he suddenly turned serious. His punches held weight to them that yours didn’t and he had managed to throw them at a faster speed that you were having trouble keeping up with.
You managed to hit him one more time without getting hit yourself and it must’ve set him off, causing him to throw out a punch far too quick for you to dodge.
His fist slammed into your side and your vision went white.
You couldn’t breathe and your abdomen spasmed from the hot, burning sensation prickled up from your lungs to your chest making it tighten. Your eyes watered as you tried to gasp for air and you clutched your side unable to hide the fact that you were in immense pain.
You collapsed onto your knees and your head connected with the mat as you keeled over in pain, rendered completely paralyzed with pain.
Panic rose in your chest the longer it took to breathe. The only thoughts that ran through your mind to keep you from falling into panic attack were you’re safe, Ghost is here, you’re safe.
The rookie knelt down in front of you and you flinched away from his touch when he rested a hand on your shoulder.
“Are you okay-”
“Get away from her!” Ghost demanded, his voice laced with anger only someone with fear could have.
You managed to lift your head off the mat to see him and Soap rushing towards you.
Ghost grabbed the rookie’s shirt and yanked him back with enough strength to throw him across the mat with ease. He sent a bone chilling glare towards the terrified man now as he created a protective barrier with his body as he stepped between you and the rookie.
His heart raced and he stood there as if to challenge the rookie to even think about trying to help you.
He clenched his fists tight, too tight as his newly healed hand ached painfully before he let Soap take care of the rookie. He kneeled in front of you and grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady.
You blinked the tears away and took a deep breath, letting lungs fill with air as you heaved from the sudden release of tightness in your abdomen. The air burned and felt warm in your throat and though you could finally breathe once more, the pain in your chest wouldn’t go away. The rookie had somehow managed to hit you in one of your more sores on your side and though he could’ve hit you a lot harder than he had, it was enough to make you feel like your ribs were stabbing into your lung every time you took a breath.
Ghost looked into your eyes with that pity look behind the anger. He was shaky, you could feel it in his hands and see him trying to control it as he narrowed his eyes. They bounced around your face and he quickly cupped your cheek with his large hand as your head dropped forward.
“I’m okay.” You rasped out to try to get him to stop worrying and to get rid of the look he had. “I’m fine.”
“Then get up.”
His voice sounded sharp and almost indifferent to how much pain you were in but you knew better. You could hear the worry deep within it especially with the way he was looking at you as you tried to gather strength to stand. He wanted you to get up, he wanted you to walk it off because if that were the case then you were okay.
You tried to. You tried to push yourself off the mat to walk it off like you used to do with any injury you may have gotten but you felt too heavy, like you couldn’t even support your own weight.
The strength you had wasn’t enough. You couldn’t push past the tightness or the stabbing in your lung that made it difficult to take long breaths. The pain spread everywhere and was too unbearable to even let you move on your own.
You were hurt. You were broken just like Ghost had thought.
You shut your eyes and your head hung with defeat.
“I can’t.”
~
You sat on the edge of a hospital bed in the infirmary with an ice pack pressed against the spot the rookie had punched. You were hunched over since it was the only comfortable position you could be in at the moment, even though there was still a dull ache left in your abdomen. The ice pack helped deter some of it along with some high dosage over the counter pain meds given to you by a nurse.
It had been hours since you had arrived in the infirmary. Ghost had to carry you to it and when you arrived they immediately began to check to see if your ribs had been broken again or had gotten worse. The tests took hours and spanned well into the early evening, making you miss out most of the day.
The tests had come back half an hour ago and you were lucky that your ribs weren’t broken again, only bruised just a little more. Unfortunately, that meant that more time was added to your leave which you had the luxury of being told when Price scolded you after he heard about what happened.
You were exhausted. Everything that happened today had taken it out of you and you were just ready to go to bed in the hopes that you could get some uninterrupted sleep after this. You doubted you would, you had come close to two panic attacks today and horrible flashbacks that you were sure you were going to be plagued by nightmares tonight.
You really had no one to blame but yourself for this. You could’ve listened to Ghost when he told you to get out, to go back to your room to rest but you were too stubborn to do that. Now you were dealing with the consequences of that.
He had been right that you hadn’t given yourself enough time, though that didn’t make him any less of a hypocrite in your book, but it definitely worsened your mood a lot more than what you wanted.
You didn’t really want to believe that you were that broken but you were. You couldn’t train without having a near panic attack or getting messed up by one punch. You could barely even do the mundane things in your life without feeling out of breath or sore in most places. There was nothing you could do without being reminded that you were practically below the average soldier in your job at the moment.
A huff left your mouth as you waited for the doctor to come back to release you from the infirmary. You were sure why it was taking so long but you hoped things would move along faster soon so you wouldn’t stew in your own thoughts anymore.
You heard footsteps approaching and you glanced up to see Ghost heading your way with a water bottle in his hand. You ignored the narrowed look in his eyes as they landed on you and instead you stared at the floor.
“Here.” He offered the bottle and you took it from him, taking a few sips of the cold liquid with a nod. “Still in pain?”
“Just sore.” You screwed the cap on and rubbed the spot on your ribs with your fingers.
“What’s the damage?”
You glanced up at him to see him still staring at you. You chewed on your inner lip when you made eye contact with him again and for a moment you saw his anger falter. His eyes turned soft and you watched as they bounced around your face.
You wondered what exactly his face looked like at the moment, whether his eyebrows were pulled together or if he had a scowl. His eyes were always expressive and you would never want that to change yet after you had seen his face, though it was hard to remember many details since you weren’t exactly sober, you wanted to always see it. Especially now when it was hard to tell if he wanted to chew you out for insubordination or to make sure you were okay.
Truthfully, all you wanted was for him to show his face. There was something about seeing him without the mask that made you feel infinitely better. Maybe it was the fact that you had looked at it while he carried you to safety or that he let you see it without a care, you weren’t sure, but you knew that right now you would feel a lot less tense if you saw him again.
“Bruised, not too bad but enough to extend my leave.” You explained and he nodded.
“Gives you more time to take care of yourself.” He said and though he wasn’t wrong it still made your eyes narrow.
“More like rubs it in my face that I’m fucking useless.”
You weren’t looking for pity, in fact you hadn’t meant to let that slip out but you were extremely frustrated with yourself. It made you cringe but that was taken away when Ghost’s eyes fell that pity look and all of the frustration built up inside of you burst out of you like a broken pipe.
“Can you stop looking at me like that?” You snapped and caught him off guard. “I don’t need your pity on top of everything else.”
“Pity?” He stared back at you offended and you rolled your eyes with a scoff.
“Yeah, you don’t hide it as well as you do with everything else.”
You glared at him and watched as he stared at you incredulously, the look setting off more anger in you. It was one thing for him to express it blatantly through the way he looked at you but it was another to lie to your face when you called him out on it.
He could at least own up to it. It still wouldn’t make things better in your mind, but he was usually an honest and direct person. This kind of behavior was unlike him and at the moment it bothered you more than it worried you, being too clouded by your own frustration to think anything different.
“You were hurt and you expect me not to care?” He snapped back, his voice raising ever so slightly as he loomed over you.
“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m dead weight!” You weren’t intimidated by him as you hopped onto the floor, completely disregarding any soreness you felt as you did so.
“After all that happened, you think I think of you as dead weight?”
Ghost scoffed and rolled his eyes, causing you to clench your jaw tightly. He glared down at you, the comforting dark void that were his eyes now turned to coldness as he tensed up. His body was rigid as if it pained him to even stand there and argue with you yet he looked as if he was angry enough to forget about that.
You were waiting for his emotions to take control of him, for him to yell at you to stop berating him but he still seemed to choose his words carefully.
It made you almost jealous how he rarely ever lost control when you were a mess of emotions bottled up that could explode with just a minor inconvenience. Even when he did lose control, it seemed he always put his anger towards something else rather than picking fights like you were doing right now.
What you didn’t know is that Ghost would hate himself more if he lost control of himself like he had in the base. He hated to argue with you, he hated to argue with anyone if he were being honest, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. What could be avoided was letting himself make the mistake of letting his anger speak for him.
That anger wasn’t him, he didn’t like it, not even when he killed the weapons dealers, and you didn’t deserve to have it directed towards you.
Ghost took a deep breath and though the anger didn’t leave his eyes some of the tension in his body did. He looked you straight in the eyes with his narrowed one and made sure that he was the only thing that had your attention.
“I don’t pity you.” He stated firmly as if that would end the argument once it was said.
As irritated as you were, you still had enough sense to see that he was telling the truth. You could see it in the way he never once looked away from you as he said it and when you let the words sink in, some of the anger slipped away. However, as you continued to stare at him it only left one question in your mind as you thought back to every moment he looked at you that way.
“Then what is it?” You huffed and still sent him a slight glare.
You wanted answers and frankly you deserved them. If he was going to say he wasn’t pitying you but he was going to act so protective over you then you had to know. You couldn’t keep letting this happen unless you figured out what exactly was making him act so strange.
He didn’t say anything, he only stared at you and to anyone else they wouldn’t have seen the nervousness that flashed in his eye for a split second but you caught it. You caught onto every little nervous tick he had; the way he would square his shoulders to make himself look bigger, stronger and intimidate whoever was making him feel that way to go away. His muscles would tense and his eyes would go alert as if he were waiting for something to attack him.
You were worried now. Why would it make him so nervous if he hadn’t been trying to hide it in the first place? He had told you the truth just now but when you wanted to know the real answer, he was suddenly back to keeping it from you.
If it wasn’t pity then what else could it be? He had only begun to look at you that way when you woke up in the hospital bed for the second time and despite the meds you could remember how his eyes went sad as he told you to go to sleep. You knew that he had been worried for you but at the time and even now you knew it was more than that.
You stared at him and looked deep into his eyes, noticing the way the nervousness grew worse when his eyes landed on the scar you had. That’s when it hit you.
It wasn't pity.
It was guilt.
Your chest tightened and you nearly felt tears begin to form as you looked at him with a kind of anguish you didn’t think you could feel. You scolded yourself for even thinking that he pitied you when really he was most likely putting himself through hell because of the guilt he had.
It made you want to cry because how could he ever blame himself for your pain when he never hurt you? He had saved you, you were alive standing in front of him. Never once did you ever think to place the blame on him for what happened and yet he was the one carrying that burden when it should be the weapons dealers who were rotting six feet under.
“You don’t…blame yourself for what happened, do you?” You hoped that maybe you were wrong and that it had been something else entirely.
Ghost’s eyes widened slightly and he shifted away from you. He finally broke eye contact from you and though he stayed silent his actions said a lot more than any words ever could.
Your face fell and you placed a hand on his arm to try to comfort him.
“Simon-”
“Alright, sergeant.” The doctor called out as she walked up to you while looking at the papers in her hands. “Sorry for the wait.”
Ghost took it as an opportunity to leave and pulled away from your touch. He didn’t say anything to you as he made his way out of the infirmary, his usual long stride making it easier for him to disappear from your view too quickly for you to say anything.
There were no words you could say that would help the situation at the moment. You could hardly pay attention to the doctor as you stared at the doors, foolishly hoping that he would come back just because you wanted him to when you knew he most likely was in his room by now, hidden from everyone including you.
When you were finally able to leave the infirmary, you went to your room instead of going to his. You knew better than to pressure him into talking about something he didn’t want to, especially when he was worked up. It would get you nowhere and make things worse for you both.
Instead, you took the time to take a long shower. It would give you enough time to gather your thoughts for when you went to go talk to him and to give him enough time to be by himself.
The hot water running off your skin pulled you deep in thought. It was clear that Ghost didn’t want to talk about this to anyone but most certainly not to you and that had to do with the fact that he rarely ever talked about his issues with anyone, but you wondered if maybe there was another reason too.
Was he afraid that you blamed him? Did he think that you resented him for what happened?
The mere thought of that made you feel sick. You couldn’t let him think that you hated him when that was far from the truth. You hoped that you hadn’t done anything to make him think that, but if he already believed it then that was the case. However, you were determined to at least clear the air with him. You weren’t going to let the pain inflicted on you ruin your life even more by pushing you both away from each other.
You got out of the shower and dried yourself off, making sure to put on comfier clothes since you knew you weren’t going anywhere else tonight, and made your way to his room.
Ghost’s room was far from everyone else’s. It was no surprise to anyone that this was the case since he was a private man but it did mean that it was out of the way when you wanted to visit him. That never really stopped you, but you had only been to his room a handful of times before this moment since both of you were often together that you rarely ever went there to see him.
You stopped in front of his door and hesitated to knock. There was still a chance that he wouldn’t want to talk about it and for a split second you wondered if it would be better to wait until tomorrow before you shook your head. You wanted to clear the air now.
You knocked softly but loud enough for him to hear. You held your hands close to you as you fidgeted with them, your eyes glued to the door as you waited for a response.
“Ghost.” You called out after a long period of silence.
There was no response but you heard him approach the door and you took a small step back. The door opened and you looked up at Ghost to see him wearing more comfortable clothes as well along with his black balaclava, an outfit you liked almost more than what he wore on missions.
His eyes softened when he looked at you, they bounced around your face and his shoulders relaxed as he gave you a small nod. He seemed to be in a better mood than he had been the entire day and you judged by the way he looked at you, he wanted you to be with him at the moment.
“What do you need, sergeant?” He wondered and you bit the inside of your lip.
“Can we talk?”
Ghost gave another short nod and he stepped out of the way to let you in, his eyes never leaving as you entered his room. He closed the door behind you and stood in front of you expectantly without saying anything.
You opened your mouth to say something before you closed it. You were still playing with your hands as you tried to come up with the right words to say. It seemed like everything you had thought of in the shower had disappeared the moment you had laid eyes on him.
The silence between you both made your stomach churn ever so slightly and that never happened. Clearly something was going on since you never had an issue with being in silence with him before.
“I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier.” You decided to try to ease into the conversation in hopes that it would make it easier for him.
“Get to the point.” Ghost disregarded the question and you sent him a look.
Now he wanted to be direct.
“Why do you blame yourself for what happened?”
Ghost’s shoulders tense up again but he stayed put. He took a deep breath and this time you couldn’t see nervousness when you looked into his eyes, instead you saw his professional, cold stare he used often on the battlefield.
“As your lieutant, it’s my job to keep my team safe and I fucked up.” He said and your eyebrows knitted together. “And now you’re paying the consequences for my mistake.”
“We both fucked up.” You reminded him.
“Doesn’t matter. It was my responsibility and I failed.”
You felt your heartache as you saw the guilt creep into the anger he had. You watched his hands ball up into fists and watched how he began to breathe just a little heavier than before. It hurt you to see him beat himself up so harshly for something that wasn’t his fault, especially when he had suffered through the same torture as you.
You carefully placed your hand on his wrist and watched for any sign of discomfort in his eyes when you did.
His eyes neither softened nor did they show that he hated the contact, instead he watched your every move, every microexpression across your face as you slid your hand down.
You managed to slip your fingers through the fist he made, your soft skin gliding over his palm in an attempt to open his hand without you asking him to do it. When he let go of the fist he had made, you held his hand and caressed his scarred knuckles with your thumb while you stared up at him.
There was something else he was hiding and he was using the mask to keep it secret. You knew that it was a security blanket for him, not only to keep himself safe and to keep the persona he created for himself but also to create a barrier for vulnerable moments like these. It made him feel safe but it also pushed him down, drowning him in his pain and causing him to bottle it up until it was released on the battlefield. Now it was being used to block you from trying to ease his mind from the pain that your near death caused.
You placed your hands on his shoulders and stepped just a little closer, making sure to check if he was okay with you getting in his space. You felt him place his hands on your hips, his fingers gripping them ever so slightly as he pulled you almost into his chest.
Your fingers found the edge of his mask and you ran them along the hem of the fabric without looking away from his eyes.
“Can I see you?” Your voice was soft as if he would be scared away if you spoke any louder.
Ghost hummed an approval and watched as you rolled the fabric up in your hands before you slowly pulled it off his face, giving him enough time to change his mind if he truly did not want you to look at him.
When the mask was finally off of his face, your chest tightened even more when you could fully see the sadness that was etched into the scowl he wore on his face. Every scar, old and new, that peppered his face weighed him down more as he stared at you with eyes that were determined to keep hold of the anger he felt.
But it quickly disappeared when you gently place your hands on his face. Stubble scratched your fingers and you watched as his eyes widened ever so slightly from the sudden contact before they softened so much you thought you saw a few tears well up in them. Your thumb traced a new scar on his cheekbone and you caressed his cheek as you moved your hand to the nape of his neck. You ran your fingers through his messy hair and watched as his eyes fluttered shut.
Simon let out a long breath and leaned into you, holding you by your hips. For a moment you didn’t want to break the silence as you also found peace within it. You liked the way his hair felt on your fingers and you liked being this close to him, especially when his thumbs were rubbing small circles into your hips. You liked that in this moment you both were able to enjoy touching each other in softer ways than what either of you were used to.
You had to break it however. You couldn’t let him stay in pain.
“I never blamed you.” Your voice was still soft and he opened his eyes to look at you. “I would never in my entire life blame you for this.”
Simon’s eyebrows knitted together and he shook his head. He nearly pulled away from you but didn’t let go of his face. When he tried to look away from you, hurt and anger flashing across his face, you made sure to keep his attention as you continued to play with his hair.
“It’s not your fault, Simon.”
He stared into your eyes, searching for a hint of something that would tell him that you were lying but you were being the most honest he had ever seen you before. You were so sure in believing that he wasn’t at fault for what happened to you that he nearly believed it himself.
This time you did notice how his eyes got misty and you were prepared to watch a few tears fall but they never came.
Instead, Simon pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around you, careful to not put pressure against your ribs as he did so. He leaned his head down and rested his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes as he waited for you to reject him.
When you locked your arms around his neck and kept him as close to you as possible, he sighed with relief. He didn’t hesitate to turn his head to the side and press his lips against yours.
They were rough just like he was but he kissed you with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of. Each time your lips moved against his, your breath was stolen from you as he pressed you against him as much as he could, almost like he wanted to absorb every part of you into his body.
You melted into him, your arms locking behind his neck as you pulled him against you to get more of him if it was even possible. You shuddered when his warm hands ran up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with the ghost of touch through your shirt. The feeling set a fire in your stomach and even when his hands moved back down to your hips you could still feel the remnants of his touch.
Simon broke the kiss and snaked his arm under your knees. He picked you up with ease and held you close to him as he quietly caught his breath, his face slightly flushed while his dazed eyes stared deep into yours.
There was a deep desire within them heated by the weight of you in his arms. He could hold you like this forever if he wanted to and if you would let him. It made him feel strong enough to take the brunt of anything physical that dared to try to reach you without even flinching. It fueled the fire in him, it made him want you in ways that he only let himself think about when he was alone in the confines of his room with the image of you behind his eyes.
You felt the same way having his strong arms hold you up steadily with confidence. You weren’t worried he’d drop you, even when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned closer to place a kiss on his lips again. You hummed when he held onto you tighter and he let out a soft grunt as you took his lips into your.
He could carry you wherever he pleased and do whatever he pleased to you this way which made you dig your fingers into the nape of his neck.
He deepened the kiss. He held you almost the same way he had when he carried you to safety, protective and full of comfort that you would never be able to get from anyone else but that was okay but you didn’t want to get it from anyone else. You only wanted it from him, you only wanted him.
Simon moved towards his bed where he laid you down on top of it. He didn’t break the kiss as he climbed on top of you, pushing his leg between yours and slipping his tongue inside of your mouth. He tasted like tea with the faintest hint of cigarette smoke that made you hungry for more of him.
You let out a soft moan when his hand roamed down your side, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation across your skin when he moved it underneath your shirt. You arched your back into his warmth when he palmed your breast, his thumb rubbing across your nipple. You gripped his shirt tightly to keep him close to you and pressed your body into his, your mind already muddled from the minimal contact as he trailed kisses from your mouth to the underside of your jaw.
Your skin flushed with heat when he sucked the spot gently, earning another moan from your throat. You gasped when he bit your skin, a whine leaving your mouth when you felt a slight sting that was remedied by the swipe of his tongue over the spot.
You felt crushed underneath his weight in the best way possible, especially as he pinched your nipple between his fingers, his large hand squeezing and playing with the plump flesh as he pleased but it wasn’t enough. You could feel yourself ache for him to touch you in other places, you need more than just his hand on your breast, you needed both of them to hold you, to feel you in a place you only dreamed of before this moment.
You rolled your hips along his thigh to get some kind of friction, the snag from his pants against your aching cunt gave you enough to make you sigh with relief.
Simon grabbed the hem of your pants, stopping you from moving your hips as he gave them a tug. You didn’t hesitate to slip them off with his help and a moan escaped your mouth when he palmed you through your underwear which was already damp from your slick.
“Fuck.” He grunted in your ear before he began to leave more marks on your neck.
His fingers rubbed your clit through your underwear, making it more soaked as you moaned from the friction. Your hips moved up to meet his hand, small moans leaving your mouth as he put the right amount of pressure against you.
He grabbed your hips and pushed his leg on you more. He left kisses on your neck before he sat up to look down at you and you whined with a slight pout from the absence of his hot breath against your skin. However, that was quickly pushed away when he gently guided your hips along his thigh, the friction becoming more intense because of the removed layer. You rolled your hips along with his movements, the feeling of his pants against your clit through your underwear making you a noisy mess.
Simon watched you fuck yourself on his thigh with dark eyes full of desire. Each moan and gasp you made had him pushing you down on his thigh to add more pressure so you could get to your climax. His chest heaved up and down as an almost primal need to make you feel good overtook him.
You could see it in his eyes and it made you ride him harder, the familiar tug of pleasure building up. You chased it, your underwear now soaked and spreading to his pants as you gripped his arm for extra support. Your eyes were lidded as you stared up at Simon and you clenched around nothing as you saw just how much he liked seeing you come undone like this, how much he liked that you were using him for something good.
A tightening pain began to creep in your sides and you clenched your jaw. You were starting to get breathless but not in the way that you wanted to be. Your sides were spasming from the exertion and the spot where the rookie punched you stabbed into your lungs, making your chest heave. You were determined to keep going as you fought for the pleasure you felt against the pain in your lungs.
However, a particular bad stab against your lungs made you wince and stop. Heat flushed your face as you shut your eyes, placing a hand over them in an attempt to hide yourself as you huff with frustration.
“Fuck…I’m sorry.” You shook your head as your throat tightened.
“It’s alright.” Simon shushed you and pulled your hand away from your eyes, placing soft kisses against your lips. “You’re okay.”
He positioned himself overtop of you so he could keep kissing you as he began to move your hips on his thigh again. He went slow at first, giving you time to catch your breath as the pleasure began to build again. His grip was more gentle this time but he kept the same pressure against your cunt, nearly identical to the way you had been doing it before.
You were still tense, the soreness in your side still there as he moved your hips for you. You were struggling to hold onto the pleasure while trying to ignore the fact that you had given up, your body so tense you felt like a rock.
“Let go.” His voice was soft against your ear as he placed slow kisses on the marks he made on your neck. “I’ve got you.”
Those words, he had repeated to you over and over again when he had held you in his arms. They had been reassuring for him in the moment, to tell himself that he was strong enough to save you but now they had a different meaning. Those three words were to let you know that he was there for you, that he would always be there for you especially when you were damaged like you were. He could be strong for you, he could help you, he wanted to help you and he wanted you to accept it because he wanted to be there even when you were better.
They sunk into you and you slowly let go of the tension in your muscles, slowly stopped focusing on the pain and instead focused on the pleasure that he was giving to you.
You fell into his warmth and the friction against your clit began to cloud your mind again to the point you couldn’t control the sounds you were making. Your moans were like a song to Simon and he sighed deeply as he left another mark on your neck.
You were close and he could feel it. Your thighs began to twitch and your breaths were short as you grabbed his shirt tightly. You managed to get back enough strength to move your hips along with his hands again. Your eyes began to flutter shut and he kept a steady pace.
“That’s it, just like that.” He cooed in your ear when the band in your stomach finally snapped and your body tense as your orgasm washed over you.
The comforting praise from him made you feel more warm as you were out of breath again. You were still coming off of your high but you were still aching for him, you wanted more of him.
Dazed, you ran your fingers through his hair, giving him an impatient tug that made him leave a kiss on your shoulder, a way to tell you to wait for you to catch your breath.
“It’s okay, ‘m not going anywhere.” Simon assured you as he massaged his fingertips into your thighs.
You nodded, unable to say anything as you played with his hair, your fingers shaky from exertion and from your orgasm. It took a moment for you to start breathing normally and when you finally caught your breath he hovered over you.
Simon looked down at you with soft eyes still full of desire but there was something more within them. They bounced around your face as he brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing his knuckles across your heated skin so softly like you would fall apart from his touch.
He cupped your face, using his thumb to caress your soft skin with calloused hands that have committed violent acts yet he touched you as if he were someone completely different. He took you in, your hair slightly damp from sweat and your lips plush from being kissed, and thought that this is what heaven looked like. He looked at you as if you were the most important thing in his life, like you were something that needed to be worshiped beyond what he could provide, a divine figure worthy of everything good in life.
You leaned into his touch and reached out to caress his face as well. Before you had always wondered what his face looked like, making up random features to put a face to the rough man you worked with everyday, but you were happy that nothing of what you thought had been right.
He was beautiful beyond anything that could be thought of. You were sure he’d disagree, even if he joked that he was handsome, saying that the scars made him ugly but you could never agree with him on that.
Simon leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on your temple. He kissed your scar down to your eyelid and placed one on top of it. He moved to the rest of your face, peppering slow kisses all over it while he continued to caress your cheek with his thumb.
Your chest warmed and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close in a hug that warmed your chest. You ached even more for him, the affection making you roll your hips up into him causing you to gasp when you felt his erection through his pants.
“Needy.” He grunted and gently squeezed your cheeks with his hand.
“Please.” You begged barely above a whisper as you rolled your hips against him again.
His eyes darkened and he locked you into another passionate kiss where he let his hands roam down to your shirt. He grabbed the hem and caressed your skin with his fingers before he pulled your shirt off you, tossing it on the floor somewhere far from the bed. He ran his hands over your breasts tweaking your nipples as he placed kisses down your chest, biting and licking to mark you.
“Can’t say no to you.”
Simon kissed a few more times before he leaned back to get a good look at you but he froze.
You were covered in bruises. Most of them had faded and were almost gone from your skin, but there were a few that still held that unhealed darker shade to them. The spot where the rookie had hit you had already formed a fresh bruise that was the size of his fist. It was just the bruises either, it was the cut marks and the burns that were forever etched into your skin.
You had looked at them before this moment a few times, not dwelling on them for very long since you would like to keep your indifference to them in tact.
You looked up at Simon with concern as you noticed the guilt creep back into his eyes. It made your heart ache but you reached out and placed a hand on his cheek making him look back at you with those sad eyes of his.
A soft reassuring smile spread across your face as you caressed his face in an attempt to give him some sort of comfort.
“It looks worse than it is.” You said but he didn’t look convinced.
You took one of his hands and placed it over your new bruise, watching as he looked at you hesitantly, almost as if he were begging you to not make him touch it, but you didn’t listen. You gently pressed his hand on it, the pressure only making your eye twitch as most of the soreness seemed to only come when you were moving.
Simon spread his fingers across your skin, barely touching it with a ghost-like touch that nearly made you squirm. He stared at your bruise for a few more moments before he leaned down and tentatively placed a kiss on top of him. He moved to the others, giving them all a soft kiss as if it would make them disappear.
He rubbed his hands over your sides down to your thighs. The petting and the kissing warmed your skin again and you moved your hips up to meet his again, a satisfied hum leaving you when you felt that he was still hard even after he saw your marks.
He hummed deep in his chest before he held your hips down, continuing to leave kisses all over you. His stubble scratched a certain spot on your stomach and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through your body before a soft giggle left your mouth.
You felt him smile, a very small one, as he looked up at you and your face flushed hot.
“I’m ticklish…” You admitted and watched as a mischievous look flashed in his eyes that made your eyes widened.
“Noted.” He pressed more kisses as he trailed down to your underwear, taking the time to occasionally rub his chin in spots that made you squirm.
“Don’t you dare.”
“‘nother time, love.”
You blinked at the pet name and how easily he seemed to say it that you almost looked past the fact that he just threatened to tickle you. You were about to scold him for it when he dragged his hot tongue over your soaked underwear, taking away any words that you may have said.
A whimper left you as he licked you through the piece of clothing again, his eyes never leaving your face which contorted with pleasure the more he drenched them with his mouth.
Simon played with you like this as you let out soft mewls and whimpers, fueled by the way you squirmed underneath him until the taste of you through your underwear wasn’t enough. He pulled them off of you, not wanting to waste anymore time before he swiped his tongue slowly over your soaked cunt.
He groaned. It was loud and from his chest, as if it had been ripped out of him without a chance for him to even keep it in. He laid your legs over his shoulders and held onto your hips to keep you in place as he shut his eyes to taste you, letting out another groan as he did so. He started out slow but it didn’t last long because as soon as he got the taste of you in his mouth, on his tongue along with the beautiful sounds of your moans, he was lost in the primal need to have you.
He licked you as if he had been starved of this, as if this was the only time he’d ever get the chance to taste you again. His tongue worked on your clit, circling it until it was puffy from the overstimulation and made you whine. He sucked it while his tongue lapped of the juices and he opened his eyes to watch you fall apart so easily from his mouth.
The west sounds from his mouth and from your cunt were sinful, almost pornographic as he added a finger inside of you. Your heart was in your ears as you watched you eat you out with the determined ambition he had when he was on missions. The serious look in his eyes that was so full of desire it made you throw your head back onto his pillow and gripped his sheets so tight your fingers went sore. Your moans were loud no matter how hard you tried to restrain them and you wondered if maybe he was doing that on purpose.
You were already close to your second orgasm again by the time he added another finger. Your thigh squeezed his head as the pleasure tightened in your lower stomach but he didn’t move away, in fact it seemed to make him eat you out faster.
You came in his mouth as a loud moan ripped through your throat. Your back arched off the bed as your eyes rolled the back of your head, your muscles spasming from the intense orgasm and from the continued licks from Simon. He helped you ride it out and you expected him to let you catch your breath but you were wrong.
He didn’t stop once, not as you orgasmed or it left you, causing you to whimper and whine. His eyes were locked onto you as he pushed his nose against your clit while he fucked your hole with his tongue.
You were breathless. It felt like all of the air was being squeezed out of you as your moans became uncontrollable. You didn’t care if anyone else in the base heard you as the pleasure you felt was enough to make you feel like your entire body was floating. You were at his mercy as you writhed underneath him and he was relentless, only taking a millisecond to catch his breath before he was back to eating you out like a wild animal.
Your next orgasm hit you so quickly that your vision went out. Nothing left your mouth as your mouth was open in a silent scream as your body shook and lifted off the bed. You gripped the sheets for dear life, them being the only thing that was keeping you grounded as your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t even tell if you were breathing or not as he continued to lick your overstimulated cunt.
Simon didn’t stop until you were twitching and trying to move your hips away from him, your whimpers and whines sounding too pained for his liking. He sat back, panting heavily as he stared at your limp form, feeling a little too proud of himself as he placed kisses on your inner thighs.
He removed his clothes down to briefs, throwing them away as if they were something undesirable, before he climbed on top of you and trapped you underneath him.
You tasted yourself on his tongue when he locked you into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as your hands ran down his back, tracing any scars you came across while he played with your raw nipples.
Despite the throbbing soreness you felt in your cunt, you still wanted more of him. You wanted to feel all of him and to have him buried deep inside of you until you couldn’t feel anything anymore. It made your stomach flip as you tugged on the band of his briefs, wondering what he could do with his cock if he could make you fall apart so easily with his mouth.
“After all that you still want my cock inside you?” He huffed a laugh in your ear as he went back to attacking your neck. “Dirty thing.”
You nodded, unable to say anything as he rolled his hips into you, his hard cock rubbing against your puffy clit which made you whimper. He held you by the chin and forced you to look at him, his eyes hooded and as he shook his head.
“Use your words.” His other hand pinched your nipple and you whined.
“Please.” You pleaded as you pulled his briefs down his hips. “I want your cock inside me, please.”
“Anything for you.”
Simon pushed your hands away before you pulled his underwear off, his cock finally springing free from its confines. It was red and puffy, the tips leaking beads of precum that you would’ve licked away if you weren’t so needy to have him inside of you. You weren’t surprised by his size. Someone who was as big as Simon Riley had to be packing something as big as his cock was and it only made you want him inside of you more. You were ready to feel all of him, to feel full even if you couldn’t take all of him.
He took his cock in his hand and pumped it a few times before he rubbed the tip on your clit, spreading precum all over you and getting your juices on him. You both hissed at the contact and you arched your back into him in order to feel more of him. You were breathing heavily with anticipation as he pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance.
You gasped and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your fingernails dug into his skin as he held you close to him before he slowly began to push himself inside of you. You moaned as his cock stretched you wider than you ever had been before and even with how wet you were it wasn’t enough to take away the pain. You blinked away any tears as you felt Simon rub comforting circles into your hips with his thumb while he kissed your shoulder.
He let you get used to him before he pushed more of him inside of you, letting out a few grunts of his own as your walls stretched to fit him. Every time he moved, he made sure to leave kisses on your skin and to rub his thumb into your hip to keep you relaxed as you adjusted to his size. Before long, he bottomed out leaving you both breathless as you held onto each other.
You hugged him close to you and he wrapped his arms around you protectively. You both stayed like that for a moment, the full and heavy feeling of his cock inside of you enough to have you flutter around him. You wrapped your legs around his hips and kissed his neck, leaving a few marks of your own which made him shudder.
It wasn’t until the pain had subsided to a dull ache that you rolled your hips into his at a slow pace. Soft whimpers left your mouth as you buried your face in his neck, the sensation almost too much for you to handle.
Simon whispered encouraging words in your ear, rubbing circles into your shoulder blades and back as you set the pace. He was breathing heavily in your ear, letting out soft grunts as he left hot kisses on your shoulder. He kept you in a secure hold with his arms wrapped around you, the warmth from his body being the only other thing you could feel.
Eventually your body betrayed you and you felt the all too familiar stabbing pain in your ribs, but where you left off, Simon picked up. He rolled his hips into you at a steady but gentle pace. He focused on the way you reacted, the small gasps and moans you let out as he moved against you, making sure to keep himself in the right angle so you could feel every good feeling he wanted you too.
The pace made you breathless and had you whimpering, slowly building the pleasure again but it wasn’t enough. You knew that he was capable of more than what he was doing but he was holding back. He didn’t want to hurt you and though you didn’t want him to be too rough, there was another time for that, you could handle more than what he was doing right now. As much as you liked how caring he was being, you wanted him to ruin you in the best way possible, to open you up like no one else has before and make you his.
“Simon,” You moaned and his breath hitched as he looked down at you. “Harder, please.”
“No…”
He kissed you and though he was being gentle with you, you could tell he wanted to go harder, faster than he was so he could chase both of your highs. It was sickeningly sweet how a man who seemed so cold could be this kind to you, even when you both wanted more. His control was impressive though he seemed to have too much of it at the moment.
“I can handle it.” You assured him and he pressed his lips together. “Please, I need you. I need to feel you.”
“Fucking hell.” He groaned and stopped moving, causing you to whine.
Simon ran his hands up your thighs and held you behind your knees. His fingers gripped your skin firmly and you looked up at him expectantly. He had a serious look in his eyes as he stared at you before he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes going slightly soft as he sighed deeply.
“You have to tell me to stop if it gets too much.” He warned and you nodded as your stomach flipped.
“Promise.” You kissed him tenderly and rolled your hips into his, causing him to groan.
Simon kissed you back just as passionate before he moved against you. He started out slow again, letting you get used to it before he picked up the pace. His cock slid in and out of you with ease as he nearly pulled himself out all of the way only to slam back into you. He kept your legs in place as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, somehow getting harder at the sight.
You threw your head back and dug your nails into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace hitting the most sensitive spots inside of you. Every thrust knocked the wind out of you and you became a writhing mess underneath him as he didn’t relent for anything. The sounds of your moans mixed with the wet sounds of his cock slamming inside of you and your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t even think to move your hips along with his, so drunk off his cock already that all you could do was lay there and take it.
His cock hit the spot inside of your walls that made you open up for him to go deeper and you begged him to keep going. You lifted yourself up from the bed to feel more of him and nearly cried when the head of his cock kissed your cervix. It felt like he was inside of your stomach and you couldn’t breathe again as your walls clenched so tight around him he let out a moan.
He would’ve laughed at how close you were already but it only made him feel pride in himself that he was the one making you feel this good. He was the only one who got to see you come apart like this, he was the only one who could make you orgasm like this.
“C’mon.” He grunted as he moved to hold your hips, holding you down. “Give it to me.”
He hit that spot on your walls over and over again, even when your legs began to shake. Your vision went blurry from tears and you gripped his arms so tight you were sure you left marks on them as your moans went high pitched. The pleasure became so much that when the orgasm hit you saw stars as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body shook uncontrollably. You went completely limp as you moaned, whimpered and cried out with pleasure that a few tears rolled down your cheeks.
Simon didn’t stop and helped you ride out your orgasm before he smashed his lips against yours. He bit your lip as you cried, licking away your salty tears as he chased his own high that was now starting to build up inside of him as well. He was breathing heavily and you writhed underneath him from overstimulation but he wasn’t going to stop, not when he could feel another build up inside you.
You wondered how long he could go for before he hit that spot again, taking out any thoughts you had as you fell back onto the bed. You were reduced to nothing but cries of pleasure again as he pounded into you.
You were so vulnerable, so beautiful and crying the way you should be crying, out of pleasure, from something good and not from something out of fear. Not only was he keeping you safe he was making you feel better, he was making you feel good. So good that you had already cummed on him four times already.
“No one’s ever gonna touch you again.” He grunted under his breath before he latched his mouth on your neck, sucking your bruised flesh. “Never letting you get hurt again.”
“Simon.” You sobbed and he thrust into you harder.
“I’m here, love.”
His thrust began to turn erratic as he felt himself close to the edge. He was pushed further towards it when you clenched around him again and he found the spot that made you a mess, using it to chase his own high as well. His breath was ragged and he couldn’t help the groans that escaped him when he felt you shake underneath him.
“That’s it, one more. Just one more.” He slurred his words as you clung to him for dear life.
Another orgasm hit you and this one completely ripped through you. It was as if you had an out of body experience, you were floating in the sticky air, gone from Simon’s room as his voice sounded so far away from you as he repeated your name like a mantra.
He thrust into you a few more times before you felt him release hot, sticky liquid inside of you. He gripped the sheets beside your head as he pushed all of his cum into you before he went still, his chest pressing against yours as you both panted like you had run a marathon.
For a moment, you both laid there in each other's arms in silence. Your skin was hot and sticky from your sweat and from Simon’s, but you didn’t mind. You were content with burning your face into the crook of his neck and falling asleep this way as exhaustion caught up to you again. You managed to wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug that he returned immediately.
Simon regained his breath a lot quicker than you. He pushed himself off you and looked down at you, his eyes going soft as he saw the exhaustion in your eyes. He worried that he went too hard before you gave him a smile. He placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you one last time before he slowly pulled out of you.
You whimpered from the movement and you were left feeling empty without him.
You watched him get up from the bed and walk towards the bathroom with heavy eyelids. You shut your eyes when you heard the sink run, finding that his bed was actually pretty comfortable compared to yours, though without him beside you, the chill from the air against your damp skin made you shiver. Time seemed to go by slowly as you waited for him to come back yet when you heard him return you didn’t have any energy to open your eyes until he placed a gentle hand on your thigh.
When you opened them, you saw him use a towel to wipe up the mess between your thighs, causing you to wince from the contact and him to rub his fingers into your skin.
He got up to leave again and you scooted over on his bed to make room for him. The bed was small and you weren’t sure how comfortable either of you would be if you slept together, but you didn’t want to go back to your room. When he came back he laid down on the bed beside you and pulled the blankets over you both before he pulled you into his chest, maneuvering you in a way that your head rested on his chest.
You placed a hand on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your waist.
“I’m going to be okay.” You said after a long period of silence. You looked up at him and he stared down at you with certainty. “Eventually.”
“Still doesn’t mean I won’t worry.” He sighed and you felt him flex his broken hand on your waist.
“You can worry, I just want you to know I’ll be okay.”
You took his hand in yours and pressed your fingers into his palm. You massaged the places between his knuckles, his fingers and anywhere else that might be stiff, working in firm circles to make sure that the job would get done while he watched you with tired eyes.
Simon placed a soft kiss on your forehead and pulled you closer.
“Okay.”
~
Long after you fell asleep, Simon laid there watching your chest rise and fall in the darkness. He held onto you to keep you close to him as studied how relaxed your face looked as you slept peacefully beside him. This wasn’t the first time he had committed the image to memory but after tonight, this would always be burned into his mind until the day he died.
He never expected to sleep with you but he didn’t regret it. Not when you looked at him like you loved him and not when he felt his heart pour so many emotions into the way he had made love to you. He hoped that when you woke up or in the future he could share more moments like this with you, moments where he could lay down beside you and be there for you whenever you had a nightmare. There was so much more he wanted to show you, so many feelings he still had to tell you without saying a word but you need to sleep.
Simon would always carry some guilt inside of him for what happened to you, but knowing that you never blamed him helped him move on from a lot of the self hatred he had towards himself. If you didn’t blame him, then maybe it was okay if he didn’t blame himself.
He dared to place a hand on your cheek, loving the way that your skin felt against his before he placed one last kiss to your forehead.
He let his eyes flutter shut as he listened to your soft breathing, something that he could always fall asleep to but never really had a chance to until now and maybe in the future if you kept him around.
It didn’t matter if you didn’t or not.
Simon would always be there to protect you.
~
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#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x y/n#cod ghost x reader#ghost x reader#cod ghost imagine#cod ghost#mw2 ghost#ghost#ghost mw2#reader insert
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Secret Kisses
Steve Harrington X Fem!Henderson!Reader
Summary : You and Steve are secretly dating, here are 3 times you were almost caught and the 1 time you were.
Word Count : 1.2k
Warnings : Not proofread, 3am writing, swears, pet names, FLUFFY, kisses, suggestive at parts, fem reader, no use of Y/N, Steve and reader just want to make out lol.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
- First time : Driving you home and nobody’s in
You’d been hanging out at Eddies trailer, watching some horror movies and smoking a bit with your friends.
Giving the metal head a hug and waving goodbye Steve drove you and Robin home.
“See you guy’s tomorrow,” she said, kissing your cheek from the backseat and climbing out.
“Let’s get you home,” Steve smiled, taking your hand in his. “Thank you for driving me.”
“Couldn’t leave my girl stranded could I? Or worse, Eddie could’ve drove you home in his death trap!”
“Eddie can drive,” you laughed.
“Sure, doesn’t mean the vans safe.”
“You worry too much,” you sighed, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
“Just want you to be safe.” The drive was quick and quiet, one of your favourite tapes of Steve’s playing. Steve pulled up to your house, no lights on inside.
“Tonight was fun,” you spoke, smiling.
“It was, we do need a proper date night though. Maybe the movies?” he asked.
“That sounds good, I’ll trust your taste in movies.” He leaned over the console to kiss you, leaning in softly.
You lips almost touched when you heard a foggy voice, “Are you coming in or not?” Dustin.
Pulling away from Steve you sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Y-yeah, goodnight.”
“Night,” you smiled, climbing out the car and headed over to your brother.
“Have you been smoking?!” he exclaimed.
“Shut up!” you slammed your hand over his mouth, shoving him in the house. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Waving at Steve before heading in yourself.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
- Second time : Movie dates, sat in the dark, perfect right?
Sat in the movie theatre side by side, fingers linked, waiting for the lights to dim. You’d decided to see The Breakfast Club, after Nancy had said it was really good.
“You’re going to run out of popcorn and the movie hasn’t even started yet,” you chuckled at Steve. “It’s good!” he defended.
“Lies, but either way you’ll be grumpy 15 minutes in because you have nothing to snack on.”
“That’s why I got you snacks my love.”
“What so you can steal them?”
“Exactly that.”
“And what if I said no?”
“Well I’m sure I could persuade you..”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer to you, lips touching, “Yeah.” He softly pressed his lips to yours when familiar voices came.
“Okay so G6 and G7 El,” Max Mayfield spoke. “Shit,” Steve whined. The seats right in front of you. “Shit,” you repeated.
Walking down to their seats El spotted you, smiling, “Hi guys!”
“Hey,” you smiled back, nudging Steve.
“Hi,” he let out a pained grin.
“Just you two?” Max asked.
“Oh yeah, had to drag Steve with me. Nobody else would come with,” you shrugged.
“Hm, seems like Robins type of film. Eddie thought … not so much,” the redhead hummed. “Yeah exactly.”
“Should have come with us,” El said softly.
“If I’d have know you wanted to see it I would’ve, could’ve made a girls night out of it,” you smiled at her. Always having had a special place in your heart for that girl.
The lights dimmed, “Well we’ll see you after the movie,” Steve said. The pair sat down facing forward. “Guess we can’t make out now,” he sighed.
“You’re literally a horny teen.”
“Well I’m a teen and you’re hot so … I’m always horny.”
“Shush,” you laughed, punching him lightly.
“Maybe you can stay at my place?”
“Hm, if you’re lucky.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
- Third time : Lunch breaks aren’t easy either.
It was Steve’s lunch break, just him on today as it was a slow Monday. He shut the door and turned the sign to close, smiling at you who’d brought him food.
Pushing you into the back room, hands on your waist, your own tangling in his hair. Lipgloss transferring onto his own lips, “Stevie,” you giggled into his mouth.
“Missed you … so much,” he spoke between kisses. “Saw me yesterday.”
“Not enough!” Pulling you as close as he could, your legs wrapped around his waist and he lifted you into a filing cabinet.
“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands played with the bottom of your skirt, pulling away. Lips swollen and hair messy.
“We’ve got 20 minutes Stevie.”
“That’s plenty of time to do what I need to do to you,” he smirked, lowering himself.
The bell on the door jingled, “Steve!”
“I’m gonna kill your brother.”
“Oh I’ll help.” Tidying himself up he left the back room, you jumping down from the cabinet.
“Henderson, thought you were smart enough to know what the word closed means.”
“Ha you’re real funny. I was just wondering if you’ve seen my sister?”
Steve’s heart went to his throat and you panicked trying to keep your breathing quiet. “Nope, why?”
“Well I saw her car outside and I thought maybe we could head home together,” he explained, “She might be getting some groceries though.”
“Mhm, maybe. If she stops by I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
“Great, thanks man.” You heard the bell ring again, signalling his exit.
Walking out of the back room you sighed. “Your brothers looking for you,” he teased.
“Oh you don’t say?” Kissing the boys cheek, “I should probably go.”
He whined, “Steve if he catches us-“
“I know I know. Okay go, but next time something like that happens I’m not stopping.”
“I’ll take your word for that.” Pecking his mouth you headed out the door to find you shit head of a brother.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
- The time you’re found out
You heard soft knock on your window. Not wanting to turn the light on in fear your headache would get worse, you walked over.
Pulling back the curtains, you saw a familiar face. You pulled up the window and stepped back, “What are you doing here?” you asked.
Steve climbed in (fell in) to your room, “Robin told me you weren’t very well, couldn’t really call cause you know,” he motioned to the door.
“Thought I’d come check on my girl, brought you some gatorade and snacks.”
“You, Steve Harrington, are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Pecking his nose, you walked back to your bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Migraine.”
“Oh baby I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?”
“Took some more tablets not too long ago, they should kick in soon.”
He sat down next to you, stoking hair gently. “Do you want me to go, leave you in peace?”
“Could you stay?”
“Course. No place I’d rather be.”
Taking off his shoes, jacket and jeans he climbed in beside you. “Come lay on me baby,” he whispered. Resting your head on his chest, you hummed, his warmth was so nice.
Running his fingers up and down your back you were quickly lulled to sleep.
Stirring awake to a knocking sound, “Yeah?” you said voice croaking, thick with sleep. Steve also woke up, giving you a sleepy smile.
“Mom said do you want breakfast, she’s made waffles,” Dustin spoke.
“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Does Steve want any?” He asked through the door.
You looked at the boy, both of you wide eyed. “Hello? Does he want any?” your brother repeated.
“Oh um sure if she’s got any spare,” Steve said. Hearing you brother grumble as he walked away, you put your head back on his chest.
“Well he knows.”
“Yeah.”
“I can do this now then,” Steve smirked, kissing you square on the mouth.
“Hm, yes Mr Harrington you can.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
A/N : I wanted to do some fics with other characters soon, they don’t have to just be Stranger Things characters, I’m part of many many fandoms. So if there’s any other characters you’d like to see, let me know! 🤍
Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanficton#steve stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x henderson!reader#joe keery#strsnger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things#louloulemons#joe keery imagines
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Meatballs! At the Unspecified Celebratory Event
Pairing: Tom Holland x ex!reader
Synopsis: you and Tom see each other at a family event for the first time since your breakup
Masterlist
“Thanks so much for having me. It’s good to see you again.”
“Of course. You know you’re always welcome. Now go grab some meatballs. I made them myself.” Sam said and squeezed your arm. You smiled in return before going over to the food table.
You put a few meatballs into your plate and mingled in the crowd with friends of the family that you hadn’t seen in a while. You heard someone being greeted by several people as they came in and looked up out of curiosity. Thats when you and Tom made eye contact. You quickly looked away and turned your body while you prayed that he hadn’t seen you. He had, of course, and was immediately making his way over to you.
“Hey.” Tom said when he finally got to you.
“Your mom told me to come.” You said at the same time. You then both apologized at the same time for cutting the other off.
“Oh. Sorry. You first.” Tom said and gestured to you.
“Sorry. Your mom told me to come.” You quickly explained. “I told her it would be too weird now that we’re broken up and everything but she insisted. Plus, I wanted to support Sam.”
“It’s okay. I’m really glad you’re here. I’m happy to see you.” Tom said sincerely. You smiled awkwardly and looked around the crowd to avoid eye contact. Tom looked around the crowd as well and briefly wondered that the purpose of the gathering was. The awkward silence went on for so long that it became palpable and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Look, Tom, I really never would’ve shown up like this if I knew you were gonna be here. I’d hate to make things awkward. But Harry told me it was safe to come. I thought you were filming in LA?” You asked and felt yourself cringing over how much you were over explaining your presence.
“I am. I have the weekend off so I came to support Sam.” Tom answered and felt disappointed now that he knew you hadn’t come just to see him.
“Oh. That’s nice. I love LA. It’s so…hot.” You faked another smile and looked away. Tom felt the conversation falling flat but was desperate to keep talking to you.
“So, uh, you still keep in touch with mum?” He asked you.
“Yeah, yeah. Not that much, though. She checks in on me and I do the same.”
“That’s nice. And I’m guessing you still talk to Harry since he told you I was filming?” He asked and looked over at Harry who had conveniently never mentioned that he was still in contact with you.
“Oh, yeah. Him too.” You laughed nervously. “We were good friends so, yeah. He and I still talk.”
“And you came to support Sam. Who must’ve sent you an invite. To your new place. Since you moved out.” Tom realized with a tight smile.
“He actually didn’t send it to my new place. He gave me an invite the last time I was over his place, so…” You trailed off when you realized your attempt to make him feel better was probably just making things worse.
“Which was…” Tom asked.
“Oh, a couple weeks ago. He had me and Paddy over to try some new recipe. It wasn’t anything serious.” You explained and tried to make it sound as uneventful as possible.
“I see. So you’re still talking to the whole family. Everyone but me.” He said with a tight smile. You could see the sadness in his eyes now that he had learned this information and wished you hadn’t said anything.
“Yeah. Sorry. It felt wrong to just cut ties completely. It’s not like I broke up with them.” You laughed awkwardly.
“Right. Just me.” He returned the laugh and sounded just as awkward. An uncomfortable silence fell between you for a long time now that you had run out of things to say. You made brief eye contact with him and quickly looked away as you scanned the party for something to talk about.
“I haven’t talked to your dad since the breakup, if that helps.” You said finally.
“It helps a little.” Tom shrugged.
“Oh, good, it does?”
“Not really.” He admitted. “Nothing does.”
“Yeah. Me either.” You shrugged and took a long sip of your drink. Tom’s eyebrows went up in surprise to hear that you were struggling just as much.
“Really?” He asked quietly. You looked into his eyes and debated telling him just how much you missed him. You ultimately decided against it since it wasn’t the time or place to have that conversation.
“The food was really good, wasn’t it? I loved the meatballs.” You asked to change the subject. You had no idea how to make small talk with someone you used to have a life with.
“Yeah. So good. Sam’s great.” Tom nodded in agreement even though he hadn’t tried any food yet.
“So great.” You echoed. You both hated the faking niceties with each other but you had no idea how else to interact now that you were broken up. Thankfully, Harry walked up to the two of you with a plate of food and relieved some of the tension.
“Hey.” He said to you before realizing Tom was there too. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you guys were talking. Should I leave?”
“No!” You and Tom said in unison. Harry leaving meant you’d have to scramble to find more things to say so you were desperate to keep him there. Harry gave you both a strange look over how enthusiastically you said no before taking a bite of one of his meatballs.
“It’s fine. What did you need?” You asked him.
“That guy I told you about is here. He wants to meet you.” Harry said and pointed over his shoulder. Tom followed his finger and saw a 6 foot tall blonde guy covered in those little minimalistic tattoos. The very tattoos you once told Tom you loved on other people.
“Oh, great.” You smiled and waved to the guy. Tom looked between you and the guy several times and felt jealousy bubble up inside him.
“Who’s that guy?” He asked through a forced laugh so he didn’t sound as worried as he felt.
“That’s Garrett. He’s one of my photographs buddies.” Harry explained.
“I’ll go say hi.” You told Harry before going over to the guy. Tom watched you hug him hello and clenched his jaw.
“Woah, mate. Whats going on with you? If you stare any harder, that vein in your neck is gonna explode.” Harry said to him.
“Who is that guy?” Tom whispered harshly.
“I told you. He’s a friend from film school. I hooked him up with Y/n.”
“Hooked up?” Tom almost shouted. “What do you mean hooked up?”
“Oh my God. Down boy.” Harry snorted. “I mean I hooked them up to work on a project together. She wants him to shoot something for her.”
“If she needs pictures then why can’t you do it?”
“Because shes like my sister so I don’t want to see her in her underwear.” Harry said like it was obvious. Tom’s stomach dropped and he looked back over at you and Garrett. You were laughing at something he had said and Tom’s jealousy doubled.
“Underwear? What are you talking about?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know. She wants to do some album art in this vintage lingerie she found and he specializes in the style she was going for. I wasn’t really listening when she was explaining because I was too focused on the meatballs.” Harry shrugged and took another bite of his food. Tom snatched Harry plate and put it down on the nearest table.
“Stop eating the meatballs for one second. Are you telling me you asked that guy to take pictures of her in her underwear?” Tom whispered angrily.
“Yes, Tom. I approached my friend and asked him to take photos of my brothers ex girlfriend in her underwear specifically for my own enjoyment.” Harry said sarcastically. Tom gave him an annoyed look so Harry stopped being sarcastic.
“No. She needed a photographer, he needed a job, so I hooked them up. Thats the end of the very simple and very boring story of why Y/n is talking to that guy.”
“Stop saying hooked them up. You’re making it sound like they’re gonna date. Does he even know about me?” Tom asked as he stared daggers over at you and Garrett.
“He’s seen Spies in Disguise.” Harry shrugged.
“Oh my God.” Tom groaned. “I don’t mean my films. Does he know I’m her boyfriend?”
“You mean ex boyfriend?” Harry said out of the corner of his mouth. Tom gave him a look and Harry quickly shoved another meatball into his mouth.
“Fine. Ex. Does he know we used to date?”
“Relax, mate. I’m your brother. I’m not gonna throw your girl into the arms of another man. We’re all rooting for you guys to get back together.”
“Okay, good.” Tom sighed in relief.
“But sometimes, in order to realize who your soulmate is, you have to sleep with a beefy photographer who has tattoos straight off a Pinterest board.”
“WHAT?” Tom shouted this time, causing a few people to look over at them.
“Oh my God. It was a joke.” Harry groaned. “Chill out. How are you still this uptight when there are delicious meatballs around?”
“Enough with the meatballs.” Tom hissed. “You don’t really think she’s gonna sleep with him, do you?”
“Hm. Probably not.” Harry shrugged as he looked over at you and Garrett.
“Good.” Tom sighed.
“But my boy is a dawg so he’s definitely gonna try.” Harry snorted and ate another meatball. Tom looked at him with an unamused expression and Harry stopped chewing.
“Sorry.” He mumbled. “Wrong crowd.”
“It doesn’t matter if he tries. She’d never go for a guy like that. He’s all wrong for her. Right?” Tom asked nervously.
“Mate, don’t do this here. We’re here to support Sam. This is not the time or place to fight for your girls honor.” Harry pointed out. Tom reluctantly nodded in agreement and turned to watch you again. Garrett had his hand on your shoulder now as he told you some story.
“Nope. I can’t watch this. I need to talk to her.” Tom decided and crossed the room to get to you. You and Garrett were laughing at something so Tom started laughing too until you noticed he was there.
“Oh, Garrett, this is Tom.” You said to bring Tom into the conversation.
“Hey, man. I loved you in Spies in Disguise.” Garrett said as he shook his hands. Tom felt slightly annoyed that he couldn’t hate this guy since he was nice.
“Thanks.” Tom said quietly. An awkward silence fell between the three of you and all laughter ceased.
“It’s a great movie. Underrated as hell.” You added after an awkward beat of silence.
“Thank you, darling.” Tom said sincerely. “So what were you guys talking about?”
“We were talking about maybe working together for a shoot.” Garrett answered.
“Right. Harry was telling me about it. I wanted to tell you that you can come over and grab some of your sets if you need them for the shoot. You left a lot at my place.” Tom said to you. You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile. You knew exactly what he was doing and he knew it too. He smiled innocently at you before checking for Garrett’s reaction.
“His place? Why would your stuff be there?” Garett wondered.
“Of course it’s at my place. Where else would she be wearing lingerie?” Tom asked with a simple shrug. You turned your face so he wouldn’t see you laughing at what he said.
“Wait, so, how do you guys know each other?” Garrett asked you.
“Oh, I’m sorry. She must not have mentioned. I know her from being her boyfriend.” Tom said and put an arm around you.
“Ex boyfriend.” You smiled sarcastically and pushed his arm off.
“Semantics.” Tom shrugged.
“Ex?” Garett raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Thats great news. I didn’t think a girl as pretty as you was available.”
“Oh, I’m not.” You laughed awkwardly.
“You’re not?” Garett frowned.
“You’re not?” Tom smiled in surprise.
“I mean, I am, but not for you two. Excuse me.” You smiled at them both and quickly exited the conversation. Tom and Garrett looked at each other with a new sense of competition between them.
“Spies in Disguise wasn’t even that good.” Garett mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Tell that to my Kids Choice Award.” Tom snapped.
“I will.” Garrett said mockingly. They exchanged sharp looks with one another before Tom walked away. He searched the room for you but couldn’t find you for a while. He asked around to see if anyone had seen you but had no luck. He sighed and went outside the restaurant to get some air. Coincidentally, you had the same idea. You were leaning against the wall of the restaurant with a drink in your hand and staring out into the night.
“Hey.” Tom said as he approached you.
“Jesus Christ.” You jumped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I have been looking for you. Do you think we could talk?”
“About what?” You played dumb and took a long sip of your drink. Tom kicked some gravel on the ground and kept his eyes down.
“Us.”
“Is it really a good time? My blood is like 70% red sauce right now.” You groaned and patted your full stomach.
“When else? You don’t return any of my calls.” Tom said without looking in your eyes. You could hear how upset he was over that you felt bad for ignoring him for so long.
“Because we broke up. People who break up aren’t supposed to talk.” You said gently.
“But we weren’t supposed to break up.“ he insisted and looked up at you.
“How can you say that when you’re the one who broke up with me?”
“It was a mistake. I just blurted that out during the fight. I was frustrated from the terrible day I had so I took it out on you. I never meant to say I wanted to break up.”
“But you did.“ You reminded him. “I don’t care how frustrated you were. I never would’ve said that to you.”
“I know.” He sighed. “And believe me, I’ve wished I could take it back from the second it left my lips.”
“Then why’d you say it?” You asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “It just fell out of my mouth.”
“Because you don’t have any lips to stop it?” You asked with a coy smile. Tom looked at you in surprise and could tell you felt proud of that one.
“That kinda sounded like you forgiving me.” He smiled cheekily.
“Maybe I’m just trying to get back into a family that can produce meatballs like this.” You shrugged and avoided eye contact. You could feel Tom staring at you so you kept your eyes out on the London skyline.
“Why’d you come tonight?” He asked after a beat of silence.
“I told you. Your mom invited me. And I wanted to support Sam.”
“Support Sam doing what, though?” Tom genuinely wondered. “What is party even for? Sam just told me I had to come. I don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”
“I honestly don’t know either.” You admitted. “Your mom just told me Sam was having a party and making meatballs. I’ve been trying to figure out if it was a birthday or graduation from the decorations but they’re too vague. I’m just avoiding Sam so he doesn’t figure out that I don’t know what this event is for.”
“Maybe it’s just a meatball party.” Tom shrugged.
“Maybe.” You laughed softly and finally looked at him. When you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him anymore. Whatever had started the fight was long gone from your memory. You didn’t care anymore. You just wanted to get back to how you used to be.
“I knew you were gonna be here today.” You confessed. “That’s why I showed up.”
“Really?” Tom asked and took a step closer to you.
“Really. I just didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. That’s why I haven’t been answering your calls.”
“And what conversation might that be?” Tom asked and got even closer.
“The ‘I really miss you even though you’re a massive dingus who doesn’t deserve me’ conversation.” You said with a sheepish smile. Tom smiled in return and moved some hair off your face.
“I am a massive dingus.” He agreed. “And I don’t deserve you.”
“I already established that.”
“But what was that? Did I catch you saying you miss me?” He asked playfully and cupped his ear. You rolled your eyes and stepped into his arms to hug him.
“Of course I do. All the photographers I’ve been sleeping with made me miss what we had.” You said against his chest.
“I’ve missed you too, darling.” He sighed happily. “Wait, what that now?”
“I’m kidding. Kind of. Can we make up now?” You asked and pulled out of the hug just enough to look at him. Instead of replying, he leaned down to kiss you for the first time in weeks. It felt like you were picking right back up where you left off as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“That was a joke right?” He laughed once you pulled out of the kiss. Your eyes darted to the side as you pulled out of the embrace.
“We should go inside.”You changed the subject. “I just have to get some more of those meatballs.”
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#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#Tom holland x ex!reader#tom holland angst#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfic#tom holland
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KING OF MY HEART, BODY AND SOUL | LYNEY
notes 2k words, does contain arlecchino quest spoilers but it’s nothing too big, mom and dad are fighting (i could be talking about any of them)
previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter
Rosalie eyes the flower warily. “What am I supposed to do with that? My hands are—” The terrifying stranger pitches the flower to her lap, a clear rebuttal, “—tied… Okay.”
She wishes she could kick it off, yet her legs were also tied. Defeated, she accepts the offering but doesn’t say a word about it. Gratitude is far from what Rosalie is feeling at the moment. Ingratitude, fear, confusion. Those describe it better.
For better or for worse, Rosalie scrambles to take hold of the conversation, if only to show these people that she wouldn’t show her ingratitude, fear, and confusion. The flower jostles with her rough movements. “You’re—Fatui, aren’t you? I believe all of you owe me more than just a talk. What do you want with my child?”
“Hey, lady,” the woman with the purple hood once again growls, “don’t talk to The Knave like that!”
The Knave. That sounds so familiar. Rosalie thinks deeply, wondering where she had heard it from in passing.
“It’s alright. She’s distressed,” The Knave addresses her subordinates, but she’s looking right at Rosalie. “You may refer to me as The Knave. Arlecchino, fourth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers.”
Harbingers. Out of the eleven, she managed to rope herself into the fourth one. Rosalie turns just a little bit pale. A Harbinger had been inside her shop without her knowing. If you had come home earlier, what would The Knave have done? Rosalie doesn’t know if this situation is any better, either.
“And, just so you know, before she was yours, she was my child first,” The Knave muses.
Oh. Right. Previous Fatuus and The Knave is a Harbinger—that makes sense.
“But—she’s not even involved with any of you anymore, right?” Rosalie asks weakly, her stomach taut with apprehension. “Why are you doing this? Where is she right now?”
The Knave appraises Rosalie for a good minute, as if her sorry state would make the choice for her. “I gave Y/N plenty of freedom. If I didn’t, you never would’ve even met her.”
Rosalie bristles. “What, I have to be grateful?”
The Knave huffs out a small laugh. “That would be narcissistic of me. Of course not. But you shouldn’t be hostile. If I meant to harm Y/N, I would’ve done so already.”
“Did you let her go on purpose?” Rosalie asks. She’s getting agitated by the power this woman is clearly showing off.
“I suppose you could say that,” The Knave wonders. “But I just had no worries. I’m more familiar with her than you think. I knew that she wouldn’t have gone too far. I knew this would happen eventually.”
Rosalie is confused. What is this? Was this one of those monologues that the bad guys jump into to reveal their master plan—like, in the musical plays?
“Of course, no one could have foreseen the Traveler's appearance.” The Knave taps a clawed finger on her chin thoughtfully. “That also made it much more complicated than it was supposed to be.”
Traveler. Where has Rosalie heard that before? “The Traveler… The Outlander? Aether?”
“Correct. Aether, as some of you prefer to address him. Had it not been for his interference, perhaps this wouldn't have turned out differently—he is an unexpected factor. Though, you, Miss Rosalie, you’re also one.”
Rosalie is still very much confused. But she sits still, obedient, wondering where this might go. The villains would reveal some flaw in their master plan somewhere.
“Or perhaps I would’ve left all of you alone had it not been for Lyney’s disobedience.” Wait, Lyney? “I will not have any distractions to the children occupied with their missions. He has already failed.”
“Y/N has been by my side almost every day. How would she have managed to sabotage a Fatui operation?” Rosalie asks.
“Showing up to Lyney’s show was enough of a distraction. I must admit, even I didn’t expect her to appear that soon. It must be The Traveler.”
“Wait, it was truly Mr. Lyney?!” Rosalie wasn’t even aware that Aether had been more than he let on, much less Mr. Lyney being Fatui.
Oh. Oh! Rosalie remembers now. The day she first saw Aether and Paimon was the day they went to watch Mr. Lyney’s magic show. Since then, you have begun acting strange, and Aether started to linger more often, but Rosalie hasn’t given it much thought. She simply chalked it up to you making friends—definitely not messing up a Fatui operation.
“Are you following, Miss Rosalie? Lyney has failed, and Y/N has disrupted our mission. You see, children in the House who go against our rules receive punishment.”
Rosalie doesn’t like where this is going. She knows the answer already: “What is the punishment?”
“Their lives.”
Rosalie winces. Fatui don’t play around.
“But Y/N isn’t part of the House anymore…?”
“Her memories are no different than one of a child currently in the House.”
At her stunned silence, The Knave seems to take pity. “I have a child that’s concocted a potion to make them kill a part of themselves that was involved with the Fatui.”
Kill a part of themselves?
Rosalie’s brain lags for a second. “Are—are you saying no one’s dyi—”
“If Y/N has no secrets to spill, then there is no reason to punish her. She can enjoy a life that never involves the Fatui in the first place. However, you became a factor. It would’ve been difficult for me to make her forget everything when you were there. If I make her forget her life in the House, she will forget you too, as everything that led up to meeting you involved the House. And that would make things a lot more complicated than necessary on your part.”
Is… she saying that she considered Rosalie’s feelings?
“Now, I am here to allow you to decide. You could also choose to forget her.” The Knave perches a hand on her hip. “You’re her mother now, are you not?”
“Why didn’t you ask Y/N first?”
“Would her answer dictate your decision?”
“Of course.”
“Even if she chose to forget you?”
Rosalie’s mouth parts for an answer. She wishes it was quicker than The Knave’s question that Rosalie feared more than anything, but instead, she finds herself uncertain. “…If that’s what she desires. I have no right to tie her by my side.”
“Hm. Quite an answer.” The Knave looks at Rosalie with what feels like a smile. It certainly doesn’t appear as one—neither side of her lips quirked, but her eyes felt lighter. “But do not worry. It’s why you’re here. Y/N would be asked, eventually.”
Ah. So Rosalie is just bait.
She wants to feel angry at the woman in front of her, but to her horror, she is instead understanding her. Like she could read what The Knave has been concealing behind each word—what the diplomat truly wants to say.
Rosalie hesitates, looking up at The Knave through her lashes. Her crimson eyes are terrifying, and having been tied up to a chair while the fourth of the Fatui Harbingers is standing is just as unsettling—Rosalie hasn’t relaxed an inch throughout the entire conversation.
“You still think of her as your child, don’t you?” Rosalie asks Arlecchino.
Arlecchino, fourth of the Harbingers, director and ‘Father’ of the House, turns away. “Attachments to traitors are only a hindrance in the House.”
It is not a clear answer, but doesn’t that make it clearer?
Rosalie takes a deep breath. She takes one long look at the flower on her lap, thinking back to when you first held one from her shop, froze it, looked at her with the roundest, fearful eyes, and knew that her answer was clear, too.
Thunder roared as the sun dipped behind the rolling hills of Fontaine. It struck badly and poured even worse. Each second passing without Rosalie in your sight, without knowing what could’ve happened to her, itched your rage and despair more and more. The more you worry, the more your temper rises.
You were arguing with Aether as to whether or not you should get the freaking Iudex involved—you vehemently refused, while Aether asserted that it was for Rosalie’s safety as well—when you spotted two familiar figures from afar.
Lynette is leading Lyney inside the shop, side by side. Your ire grows exponentially at the sight of them, hackles rising in a snap. How dare they. How dare they have the nerve to even think about showing their faces to you? How dare Lyney march back into your second life like he didn’t just ruin your first one, but now this, too.
Lyney’s eyes are wide with worry as they reach the door. “Y/N, what happened—”
“Of course you knew where I live,” you say, brimming with contempt. “Did you tell that to your ‘Father’, too? Or was she the one who told you?”
“I was the one who knew, Y/N,” Lynette admits, her voice infuriatingly calm. “Lyney knew you wouldn’t want him knowing where you lived, so I volunteered to get intel and give you his gift. We came here because we thought ‘Father’ did something, and, well…”
The atmosphere drops. Everyone feels it—everyone but you, the catalyst. They flinch at the assault of the biting chill, of your fury in the form of a glacier.
“What… happened?” Lynette asks cautiously, quietly. You’ve never seen her terrified of you; it’s so wrong, but what they’re doing to you isn’t right either. So, really, who’s the bad guy here?
“Rosalie’s been kidnapped,” you say, clipped.
“Your guardian,” Lynette says, surprised. “The woman who runs the shop, right?”
“My mother. Don’t act like you didn’t expect this to happen.”
“We’re pawns in this, too,” Lyney says, finally finding his voice, it seems. “Please, I know it doesn’t seem that way right now. Let us prove it to you if you let us help—”
You scoffed, bitter and cold. You bit back the bite of ice and wondered how ironic it was that every time your Vision acted out, it was, more often than not, tied to Lyney.
“What, so you expect me to believe you’d just go against your ‘Father’ like that?”
“I would,” Lyney says without missing a beat.
How maddening. Aether, Lynette, and Paimon were shivering, wide-eyed and unsure, yet Lyney stood unfazed. No, he burns. His eyes, his gaze, they smolder your bleak anger. But that only serves to irritate you even more.
“Lyney,” you warn.
“I would, Y/N,” Lyney cuts, eyes narrowed fiercely. “I would for you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyney.”
“I do. And you know I do!”
“Give me a good reason to believe that.”
“Because I lo—” Lyney grits his teeth, and finally, some real emotion—no more tricks, no more lies; his frustration satisfies you—at least until he says, “I like you, okay? You know this.”
Maybe deep down, you really did know. You felt it. Maybe you even feel the same. But your brain’s fogged over, and all you can think about is how Lyney keeps taking everything from you—‘Father’, your pride, your spotlight, and now Rosalie.
Aether reaches out. “Y/N—”
“Shut up. None of this would’ve happened if I never met you,” you snap, turning away at the sight of his eyes flashing with hurt.
You turn and stomp off, refusing to acknowledge their protests and Lyney’s weak pleading. The door slams shut and rattles, with ice spreading from where you’ve touched it. “Find your sister yourself. Stupid brothers, getting me involved… This is why I’m an only child…”
And so you’re back to square one. Alone. So be it. Maybe this is truly where you belong, anyway. You don’t need them, and you definitely don’t need Lyney and his blind love.
This is how it would come to be, eventually. You, leaving; or them, leaving you. You long expected it. Or maybe it is because you forced it—you wanted it like you’d feel in control if things went exactly as you expected.
So why does leaving them feel nothing like control?
notes i know i kept saying i was excited to post this chapter, but now that im actually posting it i got nervous LMFAOO its been a month since the last update. i dont know how i did tbh!!! but either way, tysm for reading and i hope u can stay with me for four more chapters <3
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#606: THAWED#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin impact#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney x y/n
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Hi! It's been a while, hasn't it?
@applestruda, @periwinklemoonlight, and I have been working on arc three of the boatem knights au for quite a while now. We hope you enjoy it :)
At the moment, the second chapter is not ready for posting, so it won't be out for a while.
Boatem Knights AU fic masterlist
Read on AO3!
Reblogs and comments are much appreciated :)
His nightmares hadn’t gone away.
Feathers rustling in the wind, Grian gazed up toward the night sky. Sighing heavily, he glanced back toward Pearl’s tent. She had offered for him to join her many times– avians were highly sociable after all, and often slept in the same nest– but he’d refused. He wouldn’t want to wake her up as well.
It didn’t make sense.
Dreams of a desert, of cold silver skin, of red eyes and names and flowers and blood. And every day they’d gotten worse. More vivid.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t something Grian had the energy to figure out right now. He needed sleep.
He stood up and walked back to his own tent, and settled down for what would be another restless night.
And he hadn’t woken up the next day.
Or the day after that.
Or the day after that.
The first day Grian slept through, Pearl hadn’t been too worried. With how bad her brother’s insomnia could get, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to not get enough sleep during the night and then make up for it during the day. She’d checked in on him, of course, and smiled softly at the sight of him curled up in his blankets, wings resting on either side of him as he smushed his face into the pillow.
“He probably just had a rough night,” she mentioned to the others during lunch, “I wouldn’t bother him.”
Mumbo looked up, frowning slightly. “Hasn’t he mentioned having nightmares for a while now? Maybe that’s what’s been keeping him up.”
Pearl nodded, wings fluttering anxiously behind her. “Yeah. The last few months have been rough on him.”
“I think it’s from all the building we have to do,” Scar piped up. “Trying to finish the lodge has been a nightmare.”
“We’re almost done!” Pearl argued, optimistic as ever. “Just a little more, then we’re all set!”
Mumbo slumped back in his seat, letting out a soft huff. “Can’t we just leave it as is? I think it’s perfectly well done.”
Scar raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “I think you just don’t like building, mister.”
Mumbo rolled his eyes, though he was unable to hold back a grin. “Well, it’s certainly not my favorite activity. I’d much rather be–”
“–working on your redstone, we know.” Impulse chuckled, shaking his head. “Unless you want to be buried in snow by the time winter comes around, we probably shouldn’t be calling the lodge ‘perfectly well done’.”
Mumbo grumbled a little at that, much to the amusement of the others. “Look, I’ll do my tasks and everything, but I’m not happy about it!”
Pearl laughed, leaning against the table. “You gotta weigh your options, mate. Either build the lodge now, or be wet and freezing during the winter. Which one would you prefer?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
The knights quickly finished lunch after that, making small talk as they cleaned and put away the dishes. The leftovers from lunch were stored away for later, placed in the shed they had built a while back so that the wild animals wouldn’t be able to get into their food.
“Same duties as earlier?” Impulse asked Pearl as they all made their way to the half-finished lodge.
Pearl nodded, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I don’t see why we would change them. I’ll take on Grian’s duties on top of mine, though I can’t promise I’ll be as fast.”
“Good thing we’re so ahead of schedule, then!” Scar piped up. “It’s a lot easier to focus on one thing instead of a whole bunch of tiny tasks.”
Pearl laughed, her wings fluttering in amusement. “That, and we’re all insanely fast builders. Who would’ve thought?”
Impulse grinned. “Well, I’m just naturally good at everything I do, so I’m not surprised.”
Laughing and joking, the four went about completing their tasks. The sounds of construction filled the air, conversation occasionally popping up alongside it. As the day progressed, it began to get hotter and hotter, construction slowing down as it did so.
Finally, the sun began to set, and their long day of work was called to an end by Mumbo. It was just routine at this point– the knights would work until the sun began to set and then they’d all gather at the west end of camp to watch the sun go down. Mumbo was always the quickest to put away his tools, and today was no different. Impulse and Scar went to join him, while Pearl slipped off to go check on her brother. Just as she had expected, he had barely moved from his sleeping position, only shifted slightly in a likely effort to get more comfortable. She pulled up one of the ottomans, settling down next to his bed.
Reaching out, Pearl gently brushed some hair out of her brother's warm face, smiling slightly. “Heyyy, Griba,” she murmured, softly so that she wouldn't startle him if he wasn't fully asleep, “you doing alright, mate? You've been asleep all day.” No response. He must've been really out of it. “Well, I brought some food and fresh water. It’ll be on the side table for when you wake up– you must be pretty hungry.” She sighed softly, leaning back. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, Griba. I love you.”
Standing, Pearl quietly left the tent and joined the other knights to watch the sun finish setting. She settled down next to Scar, leaning against him with a sigh. The grass was soft against her skin as she sat and tried to relax, breathing in the fresh air and exhaling the anxiety that was building in her chest. Her whole body ached from the exertion of a day spent building, and the cool night air that brushed against her skin and wove through her hair was a welcome relief from the end of summer heat.
Scar glanced over at Pearl, giving her his signature crooked smile. “How’s our sleeping friend holding up?” he asked.
Pearl sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Still sleepin’ the day away,” she answered. “I dropped off some food and water in case he wakes up and needs something. I'm glad he’s getting rest, though. I think I’m gonna keep him from helping us work on the lodge for a bit, though. It can’t be good for him to be exhausted and pushing himself like that.”
“Agreed.” Impulse stretched before running a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding his horns. “It’s hard work we’re doing here, man. Kinda wish Skizz could’ve stayed a little longer to help out, but I guess a man’s gotta do his job.”
“And Tango’s been busy,” Scar added, “apparently he's workin’ on a super secret fly-ification project, whatever that means.”
“Sounds terrifying,” Pearl laughed, Impulse nodding along in agreement. Mumbo’s attention seemed to have been caught by that, and he perked up.
“A project? Do you think he’d let me take a look? I know he had mentioned a few things about combining redstone and engineering and really, it was quite fascinating and we had a truly intriguing discussion on…” Mumbo trailed off, noticing how Pearl and Scar were just staring at him. “...well, Impulse gets me!” he flusteredly got out, and the others began to laugh.
Impulse smiled, chuckling. The light from the setting sun reflected off his piercings, causing them to shine when they caught the light. “That I do, buddy. That I do.”
Mumbo blinked. “Well. Alright, then.”
Pearl stood as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, stretching her wings as the shadows began to grow over the land. “I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted. I’m heading off to bed. Good night!” She spread her wings and took off, flying low over the ground until she reached her tent. She landed softly, ducking into her tent and changing into her night clothes– soft blue pajamas with stars and little crescent moons.
Sleep called her name, and Pearl felt the weight of exhaustion pulling her down. She climbed into bed, settling on her stomach and wrapping her arms around the soft pillow. She’d just barely closed her eyes before sleep descended like a soft blanket, and she drifted into unconsciousness.
Grian didn’t wake up the next day.
When Pearl woke, her limbs still somewhat sore from the day before, she went to check in on Grian before she started her morning chores. He wasn’t up, which meant he hadn’t woken up during the night and stayed up until dawn (again). Pearl was still a little concerned nonetheless, and rushed through her morning chores so that she could go check on Grian.
When she peeked into his tent, her worry increased at the fact that he hadn’t touched his food or water, and had barely moved from the sleeping position she’d last seen him in. “Griba?” she called softly, “Griba, hey. Are you up?” Upon receiving no answer, she carefully crept forward and placed a gentle hand against his head.
Oh, no.
Grian had a fever.
“Griba.” She gently shook him. “Griba. Grian. Grian. Wake up.” Her voice became more frantic as her brother continued to be unresponsive, anxiety spiking in her chest as she tried to wake him. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t do this, Grian. Please.”
Still, nothing.
Pearl’s gaze went to the side table, and she stumbled over, grabbing the pen and some blank paper that had been sitting there. Quickly, she wrote down a message to Cub, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she did so.
Cub,
I’ve been sending quite a few letters lately and I hate to bother you once more, but Grian is sick. He isn’t waking up, and he slept all through yesterday as well. When I checked on him this morning, he was burning up. I’ve tried waking him up, but he hasn’t even responded.
Please come as soon as you can.
Pearl
She began folding the paper as she ducked out Grian’s tent, almost running into Scar as she did so. “Ah! Oh, mate, careful!”
Scar laughed softly, pressing his hands to his chest. “You scared me, Pearl!” he retorted, taking a moment to calm himself down. He caught sight of the paper in Pearl's hands. “Sending another letter, are we?” he asked. “More moth mail?”
Pearl, despite the anxiety she was currently feeling, had to smile. Rolling her eyes, she responded, “We’re not calling it moth mail, Scar.” She closed her eyes and breathed out, pushing her magic into the paper. It took the form of a moth, glowing with enchantments, and flew off. She was quiet for a moment with Scar as they watched it fly off, before sighing. “Grian’s sick,” she told him, “and he’s not waking up. I was just sending a letter to Cub to ask him to come up and check on him.”
Scar frowned, humming thoughtfully. “And this isn’t just Grian being Grian?” he asked, but Pearl shook her head.
“He’s not waking up, and he’s running a fever. Which, if he was even responding a tiny bit, would be fine, but he’s not even– it’s like he can’t hear me at all. Normally he’d at least have woken up a little and smacked me away or something, but…” Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. He was just… sleeping.”
“Should we let the other two know?” Scar asked, gesturing with his head over to where Impulse and Mumbo were. They were working on the lodge once more– Mumbo, struggling to walk with the heavy materials and Impulse, carrying as much as he could and encouraging Mumbo on with a smile and kind words.
Pearl nodded, already starting to walk toward them. “Absolutely. C’mon, mate!”
Scar jogged over until he was walking by Pearl's side. “Hey! Mister Mumbo Jumbo! Impulse! Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head. “Over here!”
Pearl laughed, shaking her head slightly. “Scar, no need to shout. They’re right there.” Her wings fluttered anxiously behind her as they approached Mumbo and Impulse. “Hey, you two.”
Impulse set down the logs he had been carrying, and Mumbo did the same before collapsing into the grass. “Heya Pearl,” Impulse greeted, “what’s up?”
“Not good news, unfortunately.” The mood sombered up as soon as those words left Pearl's mouth. “Grian’s sick, and he’s not waking up. I sent a message to Cub, but I’m gonna run to the village real quick to grab some general medicine and such. I meant to get some on the next trip, but…” She trailed off. “Clearly, we need them now.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Impulse offered, to which Pearl shook her head.
“I’ll be flying. It’s faster that way.” Pearl glanced over at Scar, who had joined Mumbo in the grass. “Can you three keep watch over Griba and the camp while I’m gone? Oh, and keep an eye out for a response to the letter I sent to Cub– it’ll be coming back as an enchanted moth, you know what they look like. I don’t think he’ll be sending you a response this quick, but better alert than caught sleeping.” She coughed slightly. “Uh. Excuse the irony of that wording. It’s just a phrase.”
Impulse nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing, Pearl. We’ve got things handled here. Go and get the medicine.”
Scar stood, helping Mumbo up as well. “Yeah! We’ll stop working on the lodge for a bit while this whole thing is goin’ on. Grian’s more important than a building, anyway.”
Pearl heaved a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “Oh, thank you all. This means a lot.” She stretched, spreading her wings and fluttering them slightly before relaxing. “Right. I’ll be off then. Stay out of trouble, ya hear?”
Scar saluted. “Aye aye!”
With that, Pearl took off, flying over the camp and toward the village. Worry settled uneasily in her stomach, squeezing her chest as she tried to not spiral into an anxiety attack. It would not be good to do that while flying, she figured.
Grian would be fine. Grian would be– he was fine, he was just sick and once he got rest everything would go back to normal. They’d continue building the lodge and get it done before winter and then they’d move on to their next adventure.
Yeah.
Everything was going to be fine.
In a house surrounded by much more greenery than the canyon that it sat in, Cub was working on a very dangerous project.
Well, it wasn’t dangerous– as long as he took proper care when he was around it and made sure to wear protective gear, of course. A mask fit snugly over his mouth and nose, and he wore elbow long gloves with his lab coat sleeves tucked into them to make sure there was zero possibility of the subject of his experiment touching his skin.
Holding up the blue-green mold (sculk, the book had called it) up to the light with a pair of tweezers, Cub squinted. It appeared to almost have a sort of heartbeat, he noticed, as it pulsed rhythmically. It might’ve grossed some out, but it made Cub grin. This was so exciting. He had only heard of sculk before, from ancient books and harrowed miners who had narrowly escaped death. To be able to study it like this, up close… it was a dream come true.
Cub jotted down some more notes with one hand, holding up the sculk with his other hand. His attention divided, focus solely locked in on the things he was writing, it was no wonder he got startled by the enchanted paper moth that landed on his desk. He dropped the tweezers with a loud swear, the sculk landing in his lap. No matter– he simply picked it back up with his gloved hands and put it back into its container, sealing it away. He then carefully unfolded the moth, recognizing instantly Pearl's handwriting.
He frowned as he read the letter, before sighing heavily. “I really can’t leave them alone for five minutes, can I?” Glancing back down at his desk, Cub bit his lip, weighing his options in his head. He really had to finish this current experiment in a certain time frame, and Grian was a healthy man (and a Watcher, besides!). He’d be fine if he had to wait for a little while longer.
He went and wrote a response on the back of the letter Pearl had sent, chuckling slightly at how his handwriting compared to Pearl’s.
Pearl,
I’ll be there as soon as I finish up what I was doing. I assume it’ll take me quite some time, so I’ll head out early tomorrow morning. Keep an eye on Grian, give him some medicine and try to get some fluids into him.
Don’t panic. Remember what I’ve been telling you in our letters– take a deep breath, calm yourself, and try not to let your thoughts spiral. You’re doing a great job.
Cub
He carefully folded the paper back up, watching as the magic Pearl imbued into it activated, and the moth sprang to life before fluttering off in the direction it came from. Cub’s sharp eyesight caught the moment it burst into purple sparks of magic and sped off into the distance– “moth mail” always fascinated him. It was clearly a concept Pearl had either made up or been taught, and he’d have to ask her some more questions about it later.
But for now, the sculk called his name.
It took a little longer than expected to finish up the experiment, but Cub always stayed true to his word. The next day, he woke up with the gray light of dawn and gathered his things, taking care to lock his door before leaving.
The sun began to rise as Cub started down the familiar path to the camp.
You know how this story goes, by now.
Grian didn’t wake up the next day.
Pearl did her best to follow the advice in Cub’s letter– give Grian fluids, take deep breaths, try not to spiral, try not to spiral, try not to–
She was fine. She was fine.
…which was why she ended up breaking down into tears when Scar asked her how she was feeling, and felt his arms wrap around her and pull her close. “I’m– I’m sorry, I just–” She gasped for air, squeezing her eyes shut tight as hot tears cooled on her skin. Her hands were trembling as she wrung them together, trying to lean into Scar’s calming presence.
Scar gently shushed her, carefully patting her back between her wings as he tried to soothe her. “It’s a stressful situation, Pearl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and comforting. “It’s okay to be scared. Did you wanna send a letter to Jimmy or something? I’m sure he would be more than willing to come on up for a little bit to help out.” As he spoke, he pulled away from the hug and summoned Jellie, setting the furry blue familiar on Pearl’s lap. “Pet the Jellie. You’ll feel better.”
Pearl smiled weakly through her tears, beginning to gently stroke Jellie’s fur. She felt the tension begin to leave her body as Jellie started purring, her breathing evening out as the cat curled up on her lap. “No… no, Jimmy worries more than I do, I don’t think it would be good to stress him out over this… because it’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.”
Scar nodded. “Right you are, Pearl. It’s gonna be just fine. G’s just taking a big ol’ nap right now, sleepin’ off that nasty fever of his. Give him a little longer and he’ll be just like new. Cub will help him out and then he’ll get rid of that darn sickness in no time!”
Mumbo, who was sitting nearby, leaned forward. “Scar is right, you know. This isn’t the first time one of us has come down with a nasty illness of some sort. Grian just needs a little care and rest, I’m sure!”
Pearl nodded, taking in deep breaths as she continued to idly pet Jellie, wiping stray tears from her face. “Thanks, Scar. Mumbo. I needed that.”
Scar smiled reassuringly, giving her a thumbs up. “No problem, Pearl.”
Mumbo simply nodded, smiling. “Of course, mate.”
It wasn’t long after that Cub finally walked out of Grian’s tent, his expression kept carefully neutral. “Hey, you three. Pearl, could I speak with you?”
Pearl nodded, anxiety spiking once more as she prepared herself for whatever Cub was about to tell her. “Yeah. Of course. Scar, do you mind…?” She gestured toward Grian’s tent with a slight nod, standing up from where she had been sitting next to Scar in the grass and handing him Jellie.
Scar jumped up as well, brushing off his pants before taking Jellie and quietly dismissing his familiar. “Of course, my dear Pearl! I’ll keep a close eye on G.” Scar ducked into Grian's tent, going to take a seat on the ottoman that had remained pulled up next to Grian’s bed. He settled himself down, letting out a soft sigh and leaning forward.
There was a moment of silence.
“Y’know, G, this isn’t funny anymore.” Scar swallowed dryly, licking his cracked lips. “I’m all for pranks and stuff, but this is going too far. Pearl’s upset, Mumbo is worried, Impulse is trying to keep the other two calm, and I’m…” He shook his head. “C’mon, G. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Please.”
No response. Of course. Grian was asleep, why would he respond?
“I mean, really. It's like you’ve been cursed or something,” he weakly joked, before the thought really hit him. Could Grian have been…?
Scar closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shifted into his vex form.
The smell of magic, powerful and wrong, was so strong Scar nearly gagged. He stumbled back, eyes widening as he realized that the magic was coming from Grian, wrapping around his body and curling around his throat.
Slowly, hesitantly, Scar approached Grian and knelt by the bed. Reaching out, he carefully opened one of Grian’s eyes with his hand.
Purple.
Grian’s eyes were glowing purple.
Scar felt the magic suddenly recede, drawing into Grian like the water being pulled back into the sea. With a sharp inhale, he stumbled back, shifting out of his vex form as he burst out from the tent. “Guys!” he yelled, “guys, something's wrong with–!”
Grian’s magic exploded outwards.
Pearl screamed, lunging forward as she shifted into her Watcher form, wrapping her arms around the only person close enough for her to protect– Mumbo. The two fell to the ground, surrounded by a translucent magic shield that glowed in blue and silver hues. All around them, purple magic swirled and raged like a storm, and all they were able to do was watch as Impulse and Scar collapsed.
Cub was pushed to his knees, vex form flickering as his own shield began to crack around him. The magic howled in a screeching voice, swirling around Cub’s shield in an attempt to break through and take him as well.
“Pearl–!” Mumbo cried out, clinging to her tightly. He was pressed against the ground and could hardly see past Pearl, but what he could see terrified him. Pearl’s shield was beginning to give under the incessant pushing of Grian’s out of control magic, and there was nothing he could do but watch.
Pearl bit out a sob, holding Mumbo close. The strain of fighting against her brother’s magic had her gasping, grabbing for any and all energy she had to pour into the shield around her and Mumbo. Raising her head, guilt and fear filled her chest as she caught sight of Impulse and Scar, limp on the ground. She could only pray that they were okay. That they were alive.
The magic like raging wind reached a peak, screaming so loud Pearl’s sensitive ears ached. And just like that, it was over.
Pearl, Cub, and Mumbo were the only ones awake when their shields came down.
All across the realm, Grian’s magic reached out and pulled others into a deep sleep. A king and his hand, alongside his best soldier. A huntsman. A time wizard, armorer, and a friend of the nearby innkeep. A man who guided others through the mountains. An avian, netherborn, and a man who sold flowers.
One by one, they were surrounded by purple magic, angry and screaming and wanting. And one by one, they all fell asleep.
Grian woke up to impossibly familiar faces and one objective: survive.
He pushed himself up from the ground, shaking his head slightly to clear the fuzz as he looked around at the gathered group. “Welcome to Third Life,” he greeted in a voice that wasn’t quite his own, with words he wasn’t sure how he knew. “You all have three lives. Once you lose your last life, you are out.”
Confusion and concern echoed from those around him, and Grian raised his voice. “When you are on your last life– your red life– you will become hostile. All previous alliances will be broken.”
A deep breath.
“Good luck.”
#my writing#boatem knights au#impulsesv#pearlescentmoon#grian#goodtimeswithscar#mumbo jumbo#cubfan135#jellie the cat#hermitcraft fanfic#third life fanfic#third life
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Text
Injured
warnings: vomit, injury
A/N: just a kind of random short fic, I hope you like it.
The throbbing in your head continues to worsen, your head feels like it’s going to explode with every beat of your heart. You feel sick to your stomach. Each tiny little movement in your body makes your stomach roll. Your ankle hurts, it’s almost definitely broken, the medics have given Sam and Steph the Green Whistle to hold for you hoping you would use it but you have flatly refused it so far. The sick feeling in your stomachs starts to worsen, you lean the rest of your body weight into Sam in hopes it will help somehow, but it doesn’t, your face changes, a face Sam doesn’t recognise but Steph does, she quickly jumps into action.
“Do you have a bowl or something?” Steph asks the medics “She’s going to be sick,” to those words the medics swiftly hand her an emesis bag, and place a few more beside her just encase. You start to gag, as Steph brings the bag up to your mouth, you clearly in no state to hold it yourself, Sam rubs your back as you gag a few more times but nothing comes up, you let out a little whimper as you collapse back into Sam’s body. Tears start to roll down your checks and Steph rubs your arm in an effort to reassure you. You see the bright orange stretcher being carried on and your universe breaks, you have made it your mission not to have to use one but today you have no choice, even you know you need it, and to make everything worse Leah’s not here, maybe you should’ve chosen the Lionesses, in this moment it would’ve meant that you had your sister next to you. Your body starts to shake from your sobs, you try to speak but it doesn’t work. “Hey, hey, it’s okay take some deep breaths.” Steph says, you take four depth breaths following Steph’s lead.
“Le-Leah, I want Leah” you cry out.
“I know bug, but she can’t come right now, what if we face time her once we are in the medical room” you nod slightly at Steph’s suggestion.
“Okay we’re going to move you onto the stretcher now” one of the medics inform you, with quite a lot of pain and not much ease you were taken through to the medical suite, the medics did some scans before they took you to your team medical room in the back of the locker room. Steph sits behind you on the bed as you lean your weight into her, a boot wraps around your foot, tears stream down your face, to put it lightly the x-rays were not a fun time at all, although Steph and Sam might’ve had it worse, they stood outside the room as they heard you sob in pain wanting nothing more than to be in there with you comforting you, but they weren’t allowed too.
“Here she is,” Sam says as she walks back in.
“Hey bug how are you?” a familiar voice warms your ears. You don’t reply just smile which is enough for her, the familiar sound of her voice relaxes you as you doze off, Sam and Steph talk to her for a while before saying their goodbyes. The peaceful feeling in the room quickly evaporates when you wake up, you gag and Steph and Sam react quickly, Steph helps you sit up more and Sam grabs the emesis bag, but it’s too late, the contents of you stomach are all over you, the bed and unfortunately some is even on Steph, you burst into tears, which doesn’t help the situation as somehow you’re sick again, this time though Sam managed to catch it. Once the pair are happy, you’re okay and not going to be sick again, Sam goes to get a medic, and Steph leans you back into her, helping you take of your now vomit covered shirt. “S-Sorry” you cry out feeling terrible for what just happened. “Hey, its okay, it’s not your fault, you got hurt, okay?” you nod, which wasn’t the best idea as it starts to make the room spin. “Do you want to have a shower now? We can help, we’ll keep you in your undies and crop top” you give Steph a thumbs up.
Sam returns with a medic, “sorry” she says as they enter.
“There is nothing to be sorry about, this is nothing, I’ve seen patients do way worse” the medic replies.
“Um we were thinking of maybe getting a shower, is that okay, we will go in with her” Steph asks the medic, who smiles at her “Of course darling, just take the boot off and carry her down will probably be easiest. As she is alert and orientated, so I’m no too concerned about the vomiting, as it could be from the pain she is in,”
“Okay thank you.” Sam says to the medic.
“Okay, I’m going to slide out from behind you and Sam is going to take your boot off and I’ll pick you up and take you to the showers, okay” Steph lets you know their every move. “Thank-you” you whisper in her ear as she carries you, getting you showered wasn’t the hard part but getting you dressed was, after your shower Sam took over so Steph could have a quick shower, as much as you adored Sam the loss of the constant and familiar reassurance made you whimper, you sat in your locker while Sam put your boot on. Sam was about to help you move over to the bench in the locker room so you could be comfier when Steph came out of her record fast shower.
“Hey Sam,” Sam looked up, “I’m all done, I’ve got her now, go get a shower quickly then we can get on the bus before the rest come in” Sam nods. Steph picks you up and cradles you in her lap, and you start to doze off, Steph is relieved as she knows if you’re asleep you can’t feel the pain, she shots a quick message to Tony updating him and not long after Sam comes out. Sam gets all three of your bags packed up and they start to head out, Steph carrying you, Sam carrying all your stuff, they’re walking along the corridor when Steph suddenly stops.
“Steph, what’s wrong?”
“Do you have sunnies?”
“Um yeah I think I actually do,” she rummages through her bag and manages to find a pair, she slips them onto your face, and they start walking again.
They manage to climb onto the bus and into a set of seats, Steph sitting with her back against the window of the bus with you in her lap, leaning back on her. They are a set of four from the front as they know when the rest of the girls get on the bus it will be loud, not because of the girls but because of the press.
This time Sam messages Tony letting him know you’re on the bus and asking if he can get the girls to stay silent while they enter.
Just as Tony messages to let the girls know the game is finished and that the others are just having quick showers and they will be there soon, you wake up to an all familiar feeling, however this time your captains are prepared and know the signs, so Steph notices you and quickly holds up the emesis bag for you, in which you are relieved that you do not have to relive the events of earlier, once you are finished you start to cry, you hate being sick, Steph wraps her free arm around you trying to comfort you, Sam hands Steph a new emesis bag and takes the old one, she leaves the bus in order to find a bin in which she does and returns at the same time the girls start to show up. Sam again asks them to be quiet as the enter which they are more than happy to do for their little teammate, as they get on the bus, they all smile softly at you, not wanting to speak just encase, Harper gave you a very gentle hug as she boarded the bus with her Mum, which warmed everyone’s hearts. You had fallen back asleep before the bus started to move and slept the whole trip.
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