#// once i play through everything i hope to go back and fill in some relationship building gaps
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Ok but manipulative obsessive ballet teacher larissa keeping her star student after hours so they can focus on her technique in more ways than one
AND YOU JUST KNOW SHE’LL HAVE HER HANDS ON HER STUDENT AT ALL TIMES
It’s to help your form she says, definitely not just to see how flustered you can get
Private lessons
Ballet teacher!Larissa x ballerina!reader
A/n: is this becoming a thing? I think it’s becoming a thing. I’m kinda obsessed, could be a little AU for us?👀 also I’d like to note that while I’m not gonna specify age in hopes of inclusivity, reader is around their mid 20’s.
HAH I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna have the ideas and motivation keep writing. Anyways, this is my last draft. Hope you enjoy!!
Warning: unhealthy teacher/student relationship, touching, sexual undertones, little bit of mean Larissa
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“I will say this once and only once. At this level none of you should not need me walking you through every little step like the girls from baby ballet!” Larissa spoke loud enough to fill the room, before signaling the pianist to begin playing.
Everyone ran to form a line across the back of the room, you ending up fifth in line for the exercise. Perfect spot. Only four in front to watch, and be done quickly.
“However you’d like to start, give me four pique turns to the center, four changing fouettés, pas de bourree and close with a triple.”
One by one each student went. Some being sent back to start from the beginning if they messed up, some going without comment, very rarely did she praise anyone.
Your turn came, you started in a simple fifth position, spotting towards the diagonal which just so happened to be exactly where Larissa was standing. You had no trouble keeping your eyes on her.
“Thank you!” She said in a very clearly annoyed tone. “Finally someone who knows how to spot correctly. The rest of you should learn a little from this starting position. Go on, my dear. I apologize for interrupting your start.” You gave a short nod and began your sequence. Everything was going perfectly until the final part, where you failed to complete the third turn, but saved it by landing on fifth.
You quickly got up and were about to scurry back to the beginning but Larissa spoke up. “No need. You were perfect till the very end and at least saved it. Back of the line.”
You smiled, Larissa smiled back, giving you- a wink? Oh you must have been seeing things. She wouldn’t. What an odd thing it would be for her to do. Regardless, you nodded, looking down as you walked past her only for her to stop you in your tracks and tilt your chin up with her pointer finger. “A ballerina walks proudly. She floats with a straight back and gentle steps. Chin up, my dear.”
Surely she could see the dark red blush covering your cheeks, she nodded you off to continue walking, a smile still on her lips.
When she turned to continue the class, her smile fell, and the strict teacher was back.
When everyone was done with diagonal, she called back to center. “That will be all for today. Applaud yourself for the effort and I will see you all tomorrow.” She locked eyes with you as she spoke, before turning to talk to the pianist while everyone packed up and left.
“You. Stay back, my dear.” A few girls looked back, but she was very clearly talking to you. Her direct tone made it seem like you were in trouble, making your heart race.
“O-okay. Should I keep my pointes on?” You spoke as you stopped in the middle of untying the ribbon. “Yes, please do.”
“Is something wrong, ma’am?” You asked softly as you noticed her staring, watching you. She shook her head with a smile. “Nothing at all, darling. You’re a great student, I’d just like to give you a few pointers.”
By the time you finished tying your ribbons back on securely, and stood, walking over to her, everyone else was already gone, even the pianist. And Larissa had closed the door with the last one out.
“I’ll start with how you failed that triple turn. It shouldn’t be much of a difficult thing for someone of your level…” she mutters.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” You said, lowering your head.
Larissa stepped in front of you, so close you could practically feel her breathing as she once again tilted your chin up. “What did I say about ballerinas, sweetheart.”
You blushed at the closeness, this woman was beyond beautiful, and talented. Having her this up close felt like an honor. You felt so small next to her. “They walk proudly.” You answered.
“Good girl. So you do listen.” She stepped back and you immediately missed her presence so close to yours. “Fortunately for you, I do know what happened.”
She rounded you. “Get into fourth, give me a clean double.” You did as told, a clean double pirouette, finishing back in fourth position.
“Good. Now give me a triple, this time focus on what you’re feeling.” Again, you did as told and just like last time fell on the last turn.
“Do you see the problem?” “Yes- I think so.” She nods. “Tell me.”
“My heel is on the floor by the time I’m in the third turn.” She looked at you proudly for a moment. “Very good. You’re dropping your heel. When you do a double it’s no issue because you’re still high on pointe. But you’re turning in demi at the third. No dancer of mine turns in demi at this level. That’s for the little girls. Tell me miss, are you a little girl?”
“I- well- no of course not.” She hummed, bringing a chair in front of the mirror, centered in the room. She pointed at you to move to the center as well as she sat down, crossing her gorgeously long legs.
Any dancer would die for those. You’re sure she was the envy of the whole school back when she was just a student. “You’re acting like it. You turn like it.” Her voice brought you back in the moment.
“Anyone can do a simple turn. I’m sure the damn pianist could come do one for us. Anyone can do a double too. Any one of the juniors at this establishment could. You’re failing, at this age and this level. I mean you can do it, but you don’t do it well.”
“I can. I promise you I can. I’ve done it before!” You rushed to prove yourself to her. She was the last person on earth you wanted to disappoint.
“Well of course you have. You wouldn’t be in this level if you couldn’t pull off a simple triple turn. So what is it? Are you finding the easy way? Is this you being lazy, in my class, miss?”
You wanted to cry at just the idea of disappointing her.. and this was how she saw you? Some lazy brat in an advanced class while she was God herself to you? That wouldn’t do.
“I’ll help you, my girl. You dance beautifully, you move and project emotions the way no other can. But you’re falling at the basics. All the talent and emotion in the world won’t save you if you can’t pull off a good turn. Try to think of any important role to dance which doesn’t turn.”
“There’s not many..” you said quietly. You wanted to bring your head down again, truly, you felt shameful. You could do it, both of you knew that. But you weren’t, why is that? Larissa wondered.
“Not any, my dear.” She sighed, walking behind you. “I want you to try for four turns with me here. I will spin and support you. Just keep that heel up.” You nodded, getting into fourth, and doing a plié before starting your turns.
Larissa’s hands moved quickly around your waist, guiding you through every turn and stopping at the four count. “You’re very capable. You can spot well, you could turn ten times with me here, I bet. But I trust you know that there won’t always be a pas de deux in every show or every dance. There won’t always be somebody to help you turn.”
“Yes I know, ma’am.” She smiled. “Of course you do. You’re a smart girl, my dear.”
“You trust that I won’t let you fall, yet you’re not trusting yourself.” She said, squeezing your hips lightly as she kept her hands in place. “You have the strength to stay up, no doubt. Trusting yourself is just as important.”
“Let’s try to balance on pasé for a few, hm? Get your body comfortable with staying up for a longer time.” She stepped back.
Her eyes were racking over your body. You could feel it, it only made your blush grow deeper. “Slowly. Take your foot from the ground up to your ankle first.” You moved as she spoke, she seemed to approve of that.
“Up your calf… and above your knee. Do not rest it, now hold.” You were perfectly still once she told you to hold position, settling all the shaking in an instant.
“Your breathing cannot interrupt you. I want it to look like you’re not even breathing. Keep that rib cage closed tightly and focus. Imagine there is a string going straight through the center of your body, pulling you up toward the ceiling.”
You breathed slowly, barely. Not even thinking about uttering a word at this moment. “Turning is much easier than balancing. You have more momentum to stay up, and as long as you don’t move and exaggerated amount you can get away with not being perfectly in center with your body. Though you should be.”
You felt the warmth of her hands again. You could see her blurry in the mirror, trying to keep your face straight. You stared right into your own eyes.
Her hands were under your breasts for a moment, pressing down on your rib cage gently. “Tightly closed. Very good, my darling.. very good.” She whispered.
Larissa’s hands caressed your thighs before reaching your knee, spreading your leg a little more open. “I should be able to see you in one line if I were to look at you from the side. Keep your knee aligned with your shoulder.” She spoke softly, having no need for loud words as she was practically pressed up against you.
Your balance shook as she adjusted you, but she didn’t let you fall. Instead helping you find your balance once more before moving on. “You’re focusing too much on me. I’m not even here. Now rest.”
You sighed in relief as she gave that command, letting your pointe trail down your leg the same way it trailed up, until you reached fifth position and got off pointe, allowing yourself to rest.
“That was very good.. I would’ve been a little disappointed had you not done that. Half the girls would rush, out of sheer desperation but you.. you did that stunningly. A very good girl, you are.”
“Thank you, ma’am.. I’ll be honest, I do my best to impress you…” Larissa quirked her brow. “Is that right.. Well, lovely girl, you do a good job at it. Let’s get those turns right and I’ll be even more impressed, proud, even.” Larissa hummed as she traced down your spine with her long fingers, and then reached your skirt.
Shamelessly, she began untying it, removing the garment from your body and throwing it next to her chair. “That thing only makes seeing the things I need to see harder.” You nodded in agreement, feeling your skin heat up as she held your hips for a few moments much longer than necessary.
“We will work on your left side another time. For now I want to focus on getting that left heel to stay up.” She stepped back, moving around you to be in front now. “Give me a triple pirouette.”
You took a deep breath in, breathing out slowly. You moved into fourth position, doing a deep plié before you started.
This time, you stayed up longer, but let your heel fall by the end. Larissa sighed. “Again.”
It went on for some time. Each time you would get closer to doing it right, finally. “Again.”
“Let’s try something. Think about doing four. Set your mind, we’re doing four turns, but remember you’re closing, cleanly, on the third.” You nodded, feeling anxious about how many tries this has already taken. No doubt you felt Larissa was tired of this.
With the thought cemented on your mind, you went for four. Just keep the heel up for four.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three, close it!” You landed it right as she finished speaking, closing on a tight fifth position, your arms rounded and lowered around your bellybutton.
“Absolutely perfect. You did perfect, my dear. That was the cleanest I’ve ever seen you turn.”
“Why’d you count?” You said in a whiny tone and Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all hate it when I count. But it helped you, didn’t it? I’m just guiding you, my beautiful girl.”
You smiled, “yeah it did help..”
“Come, sweet girl.” With hurting legs you walked to her, standing in front of her with little idea of what exactly to do. But she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards herself, wrapping you in a soft hug.
It was certainly an odd thing to do, but her warmth was something you seeked.. and God, was being in her arms delightful.
She rubbed your sides gently, caressing over your soft leotard. “You did very well, my star. I want to see this progress shown in the next class, yes?” You nodded, nuzzling yourself against her neck without even thinking about it. And breathing in.. she smelled expensive, a little woody but also floral. You wanted to bathe in whatever perfume it was she wore.
“Very good, my girl. It’s time for you to get home.” You almost whined as you pulled away from her, and Larissa hushed you. “Change out of your pointes, and don’t forget your skirt. I have to close up here soon.”
You nodded, going over to your bag and quickly changing into your street shoes and some shorts. “Um, thank you, ma’am. For helping me and everything.”
“It’s a pleasure to help such a delightful student like you, always.” You blushed, waving a quick goodbye before practically skipping out of the room.
Larissa smiled as she saw it written clear across your face, she had you wrapped around her little finger. What a good girl you truly were.
#larissa weems#wednesday larissa weems#larissa weems x f!reader#gwendoline christie#larissa wednesday#larissa weems wednesday#principal larissa weems#larissa weems x reader#larissa
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God i need a part two of Sworn Enemies
The reader tells the whole situation to rhaenyra who is very disappointed that her son denies his own child because of an absurd rumor.
The reader wants her to dissolve the marriage but rhaenyra tells her to make jace beg for the reader's forgiveness and jace does anything for the reader's forgiveness.
I want the reader to be a complete girlboss 💋☝️
Pleas of Pardon || j.v
Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader
Warning : none
A/N : soooo… i changed some parts a bit, but the plot is still the same. this is the second part of this
You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Jace — not that you were protesting, but a small part of you hoped for him to at least apologize before completely disappearing.
When your family first arranged you to marry Jace, you were left with no choice but to accept. The only hope left in you was for him to spare a chance for the marriage to work, even though you knew it was far too impossible to happen. That hope instantly vanished the same night he departed.
Not a single soul in the kingdom knew where he had gone. You were too ashamed to ask so the best you could do was to eavesdrop the whispers of the servants when you had your morning and evening walks around the castle. It wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed of yourself.
I failed, you thought to yourself as you pictured how your parents would perceive you once they heard about the rocky marriage you had with Jace.
“Where had the smile I used to know gone?” Rhaenyra asked as she came to sit next to you one afternoon at the staircase. Her eyes were filled with pity. Her smile was small. “I have missed the joyful lady who loved to retelling our people’s myths.”
You shook your head, looking down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I’m alright.”
“The whole kingdom has heared, don’t you think I haven’t?” Rhaenyra hinted a sad smile.
You shook your head, still avoiding any eye contact with your husband’s mother. “Am I a bad wife?”
Rhaenyra smile instantly fell at your words. “What do you mean? Have you done something?”
“Not that I could remember.” Your vision became blurry as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’ve tried to fix our relationship, but it’s difficult when we both know we loathed each other. I’m sure you’re familiar with that too.”
“The marriage has been done—“
“I figured that it’s best for the marriage to be dissolved.” You looked up to Rhaenyra. Your teary eyes met her surprised ones. “For the sake of ourselves. I’ll leave the land if it is needed, but I’m asking for you to let me raise the baby.”
Rhaenyra’s mouth was agape. She blinked a few times as she processed your request. “I-.” Her gaze moved elsewhere. “I’ll talk to Jace.”
“And the marriage?”
An answer you longed to hear never came as Rhaenyra stood up and left you sitting on the staircase perplexed.
Her name was stuck on the back of your throat. You wanted to call her and made her stop on her track. But instead you let out a sigh in defeat. Your body leaned against the wall weakly. Your hoping eyes stayed at Rhaenyra’s figure as she slowly disappeared behind the walls.
Lost. A word which best described your state. You were so used to having your sister by your side, supporting your needs and guaranteed you the happinnes you deserved. Then when you were on your own, you could only pray to the Gods, hoping for everything to go well, but instead it went the opposite.
Your arms hugged yourself tightly as your body balled against the wall beside you. A symbol of fear and loneliness.
Tears were threatening to fall as your breathing quickened. Your mind rushed with voices, mostly telling yourself how you couldn’t do a simple job and how you should’ve lower your ego.
You held your legs tighter to your chest as you silently sob. The sound of your soft cries echoed through the empty staircase and hallway. You couldn’t careless, you just needed someone.
The voice on your head kept screaming in your head until it hit you. You were on your own. You had no one, but yourself and your infant needed you.
Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from yourself. Your legs stretched out carefully before bringing yourself on your feet. Your fingers grazed across the stone surface of the wall as you walked towards your chambers.
You needed to leave. You needed to run away. You needed to safe yourself for the sake of you and the baby.
You jogged around the room as you collected all the little things that you felt like you needed. All the items were shoved inside her pocket bag.
“What am I missing?” You mumbled to yourself.
Your eyes scanned around the room to bring yourself the answer you needed. They landed on the wine bottle which was standing on your nightstand. A lazy smile danced on your lips before you brought yourself towards the object.
Just as you were about to get your hand on the bottle, the door to your chamber cracked open. Your head spun towards the source of the sound. Your eyes stared in horror at the thought of getting caught in the act. A long shadow of someone walking in to the room made your heart skipped a beat then it stopped when your eyes met his.
Your body froze on it’s place. A look of horror masked your future, but you slowly calmed once you studied his face. His sad eyes and almost pouted lips made you barely recognize the man standing on the other side of the room.
“Jace.” You breathed out.
“Y/N.” He called under his breath.
There was a long pause, each waited for the other to continue, but neither said anything.
Jace knew he was wrong, despite how much he hated you. A small part of him kept telling him to talk to you after that night, but he had to big of an ego, so he chose to avoid you instead of apologizing.
What he didn’t expect was for his mother who loved him dearly to side with her. At that point he knew he had to talk to you. He had to admit that he was wrong. He had to apologize and maybe more or anything else to get you to forgive him.
“I-“ Jace cleared his throat, slightly avoiding your eyes. “What are you doing?”
You furrowed your eyebrows. Anger slowly increased inside you as you feel your heart clenched. Is he bluffing?
“Nothing.” You kept your voice low, trying to control yourself from bursting out at him.
Jace awkwardly nodded before moving his gaze anywhere else but you. He suddenly found the chamber interesting whilst he studied the room.
Something didn’t feel right, he thought.
His eyes saw the small pocket bag on the couch, the cloak on the bed, and how your body kneeled too close to the bottle on the nightstand.
“Are you planning to leave?” Jace asked, his voice was laced with a hint of dejection.
You almost gave in. Almost. The way his face fell and his lips turned down into a frown. How his eyes showed longing and regret. You almost changed your mind.
You inverted your gaze from him slightly and fixed your posture. As you turned to face him, you forced yourself to show no emotion. He needed to know he deserved it.
“And what if I am?” You challenged him.
“You’re taking our baby with you!?” The frequency of his voice hightened, making the sentence sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“That’s not fair.” You whispered. “You accused me of cheating and held to your beliefs that the baby isn’t yours! How dare you include yourself on deciding whether the baby should be with me or not?”
Jace opened and closed his mouth, stopping himself from taking the argument further. He took a deep breath to calm himself.
“My apologies.” You raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have accused you despite how much I hated you. I was too blinded with my emotions and I forgot that you have feelings too. I deserve every second of your loath for the rest of my life, but I’m begging for you to stay. Please, don’t leave. Please don’t take the baby away from me. I’ll do anything, I promise!”
There was a long pause. You looked down at your hands as an excuse to dismiss him from your view. You didn’t say anything, as if you were waiting for him to say more.
“Please say something.” Jace took a step towards you hesitantly.
“I need a moment.” You said shortly without bothering to give him a glance. You stood up and walked past him, leaving your shared chambers.
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@semisutopia @anehkael @kaiawolf @maddie-jayne @shadowmoonlight0604 @aemondwhoresworld @cedigz
#jacaerys imagine#jacaerys x oc#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon imagine#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys fic#jacaerys strong#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x you#hotd jacaerys#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon
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Once More to See You - DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU
Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.
Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.
Word count: 2.5K
Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.
A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!
Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.
You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.
"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.
"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.
You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.
Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.
"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.
Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.
“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.
“Um… you…oka-.”
“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.
"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.
He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.
You tailed him into the kitchen.
He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.
"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.
“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.
“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.
“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.
“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”
Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.
Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.
"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"
"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.
Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.
“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.
The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."
Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.
You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.
Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.
“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.
Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"
"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.
"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.
"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”
You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.
"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”
“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.
"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."
He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”
"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."
Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.
"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."
Joel just stood there and took it.
“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.
You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.
Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.
"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"
"Joel, please...", you gasped.
Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.
The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."
"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."
“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.
"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.
"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."
"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”
"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”
“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.
“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”
Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.
He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl. You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.
"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.
Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."
You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"
He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.
"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”
"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”
Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.
You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.
Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.
You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.
The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.
You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.
Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?
Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.
But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.
A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.
"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”
"Please, just leave me alone."
“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”
How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?
divider credit to @kthice
*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller one shot#tlou fanfiction#hbo joel miller#no outbreak!joel miller#tlou#tw dubcon#Joel miller
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Hello, my dear. 🥰
Been enjoying ur writing. 👀 Was reading ur yan bay don head canons and it mentioned Donnie essentially summoning Reader like they're a pet and tbh.... I'm like this irl. Idk. Scratches the brain right.
So I was wondering if you'd be willing to rottmnt yandere head canons where the figure out they can summon Reader like an animal? Like maybe they do it on accident/without thinking and they're like "oh... oh!" And it just works. Every. Damn. Time. Even if it's to the dismay of Reader.
🥂
Omg thanks for the request 😋
Yandere Donatello x Reader
Warnings!
Kidnapping, yandere content, human pet training, unhealthy relationships, forced love. Overall, dark content. Read at your own risk.
A/N sorry if this got off track I was hungry writing this XP (sorry if it's too short)
800 words
It was a nice afternoon (at least that's what time you think it is) in donnie's lab. He was working on something nice and easy. His brothers were out doing who knows what- But it was nice. Calm.
He had this nest of bedding under his desk for you, it was nice. Comfy too-
You were sitting there, drawing on some mandala coloring book he gave you with some nice markers Mikey had gifted the two of you.
You heard a small snap and whistle, rising from your position, standing in front of him. Wait- why'd you do that- before you could think too much Don was already talking to you.
“I was wondering if you would want to help make lunch today, I see you picking at stuff all the time. I think it would be good sensory input.” He says, sounding excited about trying to get you to do something. You sit there, thinking about your option like you had a choice.
He whistled at you, quickly getting your head to turn to him- wait… why’d you do that? Why are you answering like a pet? Have you really been here that long…? Time must fly down here, or maybe it’s the sheer amount of times he’s drugged you, or the sewer smells are getting to you.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You weren't lying, doing something outside his lab or bed sounded really nice, maybe even seeing April or the two casey’s would be exciting, you don’t really see anyone but Donnie and his three brothers, oh and splinter, on a very, very rare basis.
“When do you want to make lunch?” you ask, looking back at him, he hums, finger on his chin. “Maybe after a few more lines of code, only a few more minutes” You go back to your coloring book, filling in the mandala in with a nice blue, followed by purples. The soft sounds of his keyboard and chair lulling you back into your daily daze.
The sound of soft strokes of the marker on your paper fill the labs walls along with donnie’s typing and music overflowing headphones. Once again he whistles at you, getting your attention every time. You’ve been here way too long. He looks down at you, donnie’s smile soft and adoring as always. “Ready sweetie?” You nod, having no reason to argue against it.
The two of you walk out of his lab, you slip on some purple slippers he has at his door for you sense the lair floor is cold and to be honest, dirty too. When you both enter the kitchen, music plays at a normal volume. You see Mikey making what you can only assume is for Raph by the size of it, he gives you both a sweet hello before returning to his cooking, humming along to a song.
Donnie walks over to a chest freezer they had recently bought and filled, they went through pretty fast, keeping in mind that they are mutants. Don grabbed a box of frozen orange chicken, one of his favorites.
He got out a sheet pan and some parchment paper. He whistled to you before asking you to set the oven to 350. You obliged, turning the knob to the temperature before turning back to him for more directions, once again acting like a trained dog. Ready for any commands. What a funny thing this has done to you. Donnie is much more lenient and calm with you now, the first few months were the longest and hardest, adjustment taking longer than Donatello hoped, but everything paid off.
This is proof, you don’t question him anymore, you always answered him and never gave him trouble. “How about you lay out the chicken on the sheet tray? Well I warm up the sauce.” You hum in agreement, grabbing the frozen bag of chicken, laying it out and waiting for the oven to beep, signifying it was done heating.
Donnie prepares the sauce, running it under warm water. He makes a sound with his lips, one you would use to call a dog. “Go into my lab and grab the hoodie off my chair please.” he says, never even raising his head to check that you left.
Off back into his lab, quickly grabbing the desired hoodie then starting to head back.
Why? Why were you doing this? Obeying his commands like a fucking pet-
Before you can dwell on it any longer you were already back in the kitchen, holding the hoodie out to him. “Oh, sweetie. It’s for you, I know it’s cold here.” he takes the sweater and puts it on you. There was no fighting it, or protest. You just let him. Like he had always wanted.
He finally has you how he needs you
#tmnt x reader#donatello x reader#yandere donnie#yandere donnie x reader#tmnt fanfiction#rottmnt#rise donnie x reader#yandere rottmnt
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Better Than Sleeping
Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Summary:
You and Jason are friends with benefits. Though you have come to realize that the relationship doesn’t always ‘benefit’ you when he ends up annoying you after a long, tiring day of training.
(He quickly makes you come to see that his annoying persistence can benefit you, even if you would never admit it aloud.)
Jason Todd x Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 2.
Word Count: 5,300
DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.
Warning: This fic contains Dubious Consent. One character ‘wears down’ the other and ‘convinces them’ to have sex, and both of them display verbal consent that goes against their true actions and desires (they say no to having sex when they do truly want to) and they think of convincing the other person to agree as a kind of ‘game’. It is a relationship that is playful in nature, and this consent is based on bodily queues, facial expressions, and knowing a person’s safety and comfort based on being in a relationship with them for a period of time. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the fic.
List of detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.
Warnings: friends with benefits, this is primarily a smut fic, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive (once the sex begins), the reader could be considered a brat, Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (it is a canon event), Jason calls the reader ‘baby’, Jason calls the reader ‘good girl’, dubious consent - coercion (please see the above for an explanation about this), mentions of masturbation (watching someone masturbate), mentions of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep, mentions of free use kink, mentions of cumming inside someone/unprotected sex, marking/biting, groping/touching through underwear (reader receiving), orgasm denial (toward the reader), ‘just the tip’,teasing, there is a point where Jason’s dick is inside her without a condom but he doesn’t cum, and he puts on a condom before fully penetrating (what would you call that?), begging, slight mentions of subspace (but it’s more so described as a lustful drunkness), there is implications toward the end of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep with their permission. I believe that is everything.
A/N: This is definitely one of my favourite things I have written. I thought maybe I was going to edit it some before re-posting it, but I was rereading it the other day and I actually realized that it's really good the way it is, so here you go - some random cocky Jason smut, inspired by the 'just the tip' trope. I hope you enjoy!
...
You knew that becoming a Titan was never going to be easy.
But fuck, this was a lot harder than you imagined it would be. Dick Grayson was quickly becoming your least favorite person. Between the 5am wake up calls and the endless workout routines, paired with the bland ‘nutrient filled’ meal plans he had everyone on to ‘fuel your bodies’ for training - he was becoming a menial drill sergeant that you couldn’t get away from. One of the only things that made it better was the fact that you had friends around - the ability to joke about him with Rachel, Gar, and Jason behind his back. Was it a bit mean-spirited? Yes. Did you feel less guilty about it whenever he added more onto the training routine? Also yes.
You had no clue when these skills you were working so hard on were ever going to come into play. Every single night, Dick retired himself into the comms room full of computers to ‘monitor the city for threats’ - but he seemingly never found anything worthy of the team’s attention. At least not yet. So you went about the routine of training hard, becoming exhausted, falling into bed to sleep and then doing it all over again.
Oh - and there was the other thing. The not so occasional part of your routine where Jason fucked your brains out. The fact that the two of you had developed a mutually beneficial relationship to help ‘relieve’ each other when you were horny, a quintessential friends with benefits situation. But with your muscles sore from training and your entire body so exhausted, that was the farthest thing from your mind on this night.
After a long, hard day of training, the last thing you wanted to hear was a knock on your bedroom door. You hoped that it was simply Gar asking to borrow some of your body wash again (because he liked the smell), or Rachel asking you to kill a spider in her room, and not Dick alerting you to some surprise training drill that he had suddenly thought up.
You shoved your pajama top over your head, finishing getting changed for the night, and rushed across the room to the door. When you opened it, you barely had time to gauge if you were pleased or displeased at seeing Jason before he spoke.
“I’m horny.” He announced abruptly, being very abrupt about delivering his feelings.
But it was in character for him, and didn’t surprise you in the least.
You hated that your stomach jolted at his words, even if just out of Pavlovian habit. It had been only two days since the last time he had fucked you. He had caught you in the shower in the morning, snuck into the bathroom with a condom between his teeth and opened the shower door to join you while you were distracted meditatively washing your hair. It had been steamy, soapy, slippery, and goddamn wonderful.
But it had left you sore and stiff before training, and you were wondering how much give and take there was - if you truly needed his cock.
“Hello to you too.” You said, your tone just as dead tired as you felt.
You wouldn’t admit that you were a bit horny too. You were tired, and you wanted to go to sleep. So that made you annoyed with his presence. (It should have made you more annoyed than you were.)
Jason bit his lip, raking his eyes up and down your body with an intense heat lurking there. You glared back at him.
Jason was intensely attractive. He was a good looking guy, that was just a fact. And while you did enjoy the way he was looking at you, staring you down like you were a porn star when you were slumped with exhaustion, wearing baggy old pjs with mascara smeared on your face with sweat, your hair a mess from the day - there was barely a spark stirred in your stomach at the idea of fucking him right now. You were just too damn tired. Dick had been running you all into the ground, instituting the same training that Batman had given him, and it was fucking exhausting.
“So - can I come in?” Jason asked.
He gave you a very expectant curl of his lips and tilted his head toward you when you didn’t say anything for a few seconds. You just stood there and stared at him bitterly.
You sighed hard through your nose, not wanting to answer the question.
Fucking him might be nice. A good orgasm before bed. But you needed to put what little energy you had left into your nightly routine and then get a good, long sleep before Dick woke everyone up at ass o’clock again.
“No.” You finally told him. “I’m going to bed.”
You turned and walked back into your room, but left the door open. You hoped that he would get the hint to leave on his own. You grabbed your bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad and began taking off your makeup.
You weren’t so lucky.
“I’ll go to bed with you, babe.” He announced proudly. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
He then came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You felt the half hardness of his cock pressing into your ass as you wiped away your makeup with stern hands. You tried your hardest not to let him wear you down, even as you felt a tingle between your thighs. He was used to training this hard, so it wasn’t as exhausting for him. Clearly, he didn’t understand how tired you were - how badly you needed the rest.
“Go get in your own bed.” You barked, your tone becoming more strained.
As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your face, to make sure that you had gotten all the tiny specs of makeup off, you unintentionally arched your back, pushing your ass much closer to his crotch. Jason let out a quiet moan and you caught him smirking at you in the reflection of the mirror.
He leaned in close, draping his warm body entirely over your back, trapping you there as he put one hand on the dresser and the other on the wall and leaned his body weight on you. You could have shoved him off you if you wanted to - but as you felt a tingling heat creeping up your back, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to.
“Come on, babe.” He sighed into your neck.
His hot breath on such a sensitive place caused a shiver through you that you would deny.
“Why are you being like this? You know if you want a good sleep, getting fucked nice and hard is the best way to get it.” He told you, so entirely cocky. “My cock will put you right to bed, baby.”
The words sent a hard jolt of electricity through you, settling a hard heat through you from your gut all the way to your face, burning uncomfortably through your skin. Combined with the way he ground his increasing hardness against your ass, you were forced to suppress a whimper.
It made you even more annoyed with him - the fact he could play your body like an instrument he had finely tuned. And you reacted with that intense annoyance.
“Why can’t you just masturbate like a normal person?” You scoffed at him, entirely firm, not giving away an ounce of weakness in your voice.
“As if.” He held intense disgust in his voice at the very idea.
He gave another firm dig of his hips, causing you to be pressed into the sharp edge of the dresser - a small twinge of pain that only added to the heat growing in your stomach.
“Why the fuck would I resort to touching myself when I have the sweetest pussy ever to fuck right down the hall?” Jason explained. “But ya know, if you want to watch me jack off, that can be arranged.”
Instead of responding to that, you just rolled your eyes. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice that subtle shift of lust in your features that said this was definitely a new fantasy of yours because he had brought it up.
“You can’t deny that you need it too.” Jason whispered into your ear.
“I need sleep.” You grunted in return.
You then shucked out of his hold, using one of the evasive maneuvers that Dick had taught you in training, ducking under Jason’s arm when he wasn’t expecting it. Before he could blink, you were across the hall and in the bathroom. It was mostly because you knew that if you stood there any longer with his warm body pressed against your back, you would have given in far too easily.
Naturally, Jason followed you.
He stuck by your side through your entire night time routine, trying to wear you down. You weighed the pros and cons in your head without truly listening to him as the exhaustion seeped into your bones and battled with the lust growing inside of you.
Jason brushed his teeth standing next to you in front of the sink while you brushed yours, all the while mumbling excuses through his toothpaste about how the sex would be good aerobic exercise to help with your training. By the time you got to doing your skincare, you ended up putting a face wash and moisturizer on him just to mentally drown out whatever he was saying - something about orgasms and endorphins and how it helps mental health.
As you pulled back the covers to finally settle in, he snuck his way into your bed under the guise of ‘just cuddling’. Though you weren’t anywhere near convinced of that sentiment, you didn’t kick him out of the room or protect. You were surprised, but grateful when he took off his shirt, laid down, and seemed to finally shut up. You weren’t sure which you were more grateful for - the quiet or the stunning eye candy of his tight body on full display. But you didn’t question the fact that he had finally stopped nagging you.
You crawled into bed beside him and settled into his arms. You gave him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight (knowing that if you kissed him on the mouth, it would turn into something more heated). It was only about two minutes after you shut off your bedside lamp, shrouding the room in darkness, that the talking began again.
“You could sleep through it.” He noted quietly.
You sighed with deep annoyance.
“If you want to. I could be gentle about it.”
His voice continued on from behind you as he spooned you, one arm under your head underneath the pillow and the other laid almost possessively around your waist.
Of course, he didn’t even have to be too descriptive for you to know what ‘it’ was.
The idea of him gently fucking you while you fell into a lazy sleep was entirely too appealing. But he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to win. Especially not after you had put so much of your very little remaining energy into deterring him all night.
“Go to sleep.” You told him with a huff, shoving your head further into the pillow.
He simply chuckled.
You hoped that if you just ignored him, he would shut up and go to sleep.
You would never admit to him that heat bloomed in your stomach at the idea of Jason crawling into your bed when you were already in a deep sleep, using you for his own selfish pleasure and leaving you sore and full of cum to wake up to in the morning.
“Hmm… no.” He replied, as easily as a petulant child, his breath fanning out over your neck once again.
Your heated thoughts easily blossomed into a moan from your lips when he latched onto your neck without warning. He picked a particularly tender spot, sucking hard with teeth and the fullness of his lips, easily knocking the wind out of you. You shoved your heated face tightly into your pillow, praying that he wouldn’t notice your reaction. That he wouldn’t realize he so blatantly had you like putty in his hands. If he knew that, he would know that he could just take whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t protest. Not in the slightest.
Jason already knew that. But he wasn’t just going to pull down your shorts and slam his cock into you. As much fun as that would be - he wasn’t barbaric. Plus - now that he had one of your sweet little sounds in his ears, he wanted more. He wanted to hear you beg for it after denying him for so long.
He moved his arm from being so tightly around your waist, and pushed your shirt up. You tried your best to put up a wall of indifference toward this. He began skimming his touch oh so lightly along the roundness of your stomach, right above the band of your shorts. You knew he felt the shiver that ran through you, but you refused to say anything. You weren’t pretending to be asleep at this point, but it was a game to the two of you. You still refused to give in.
But he was playing to win.
He shoved his hand into the waistband of your shorts, touching you outside the fabric of your underwear. His skin felt like he could have burned you, even through the fabric. You had to make a conscious effort not to buck forward into the touch. When his fingers skimmed across your hotly beating clit (when had you gotten so turned on?) you swallowed another whimper and steadied your voice.
“Jason.” You said his name firmly, like a warning bell. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’m gonna kick you out.”
“I don’t think you will.” He whispered into your neck, defiantly cocky once again.
He sucked another hard, hot mark onto your skin as he cupped your pussy whole in his palm and began grinding the heel of his hand against your clit.
You let out a wobbling moan and your body thrashed, your energy so depleted that you could no longer hold back your body’s natural reactions to him. You were met with the hard wall of his body behind you, so firm and perfectly hot as he pressed himself tighter into you.
He gave a satisfied grin into your skin and only doubled down, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit and causing hot waves from that point, adding to the rolling boil that raged under your skin.
With the beautifully firm pressure and Jason’s talent, the way he knew your body so well, you could have come from this alone. Especially as the pleasure throbbed through your core, your underwear became more soaked through and it was all so beautifully smooth and wet.
Jason began grinding his cock - still trapped inside a pair of sweats - against the back of your thigh. He groaned into your neck when he felt a pleasurable tingling of his own spreading through his gut, though he craved to be inside of you. As much as he was enjoying this - the sweet, needy sounds falling from your lips, the way your thighs clamped around his wrist, as though desperately trying to keep him in place while your hips humped against his hand like a bitch in heat - he knew that he needed more.
And he was going to make you beg for it.
When he felt the signature twitch of your legs that said you were about to cum, he stopped. He held his hand completely still, his strong arm easily pinning your hips down to the bed to prevent you from humping against him and simply taking what you needed. In that moment, he even curled two of his fingers up to shove the fabric of your underwear inside of you slightly, creating a sharp sting that reminded you just how empty you were feeling.
“Jay-!” You let out his name in a petulant whine, about to scold him for the ruined orgasm, but he cut you off.
“You gonna ask me nicely now?” He rumbled into your ear. “Admit you were wrong?”
You wanted to bark out ‘either make me cum, or go to your own damn bed’ - but you knew that Jason was just as petty as you were. At that point, he would have gotten up and left for his own bed just to prove a point.
“You’re keeping me awake right now.” You huffed out, trying your best to sound annoyed. (Which wasn’t too difficult, considering how badly the ruined orgasm had frustrated you.) “My point still stands.”
Of course, sleeping was the farthest thing from your mind now. The sexual frustration had injected a new wave of energy through you, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to rest until you were truly satisfied.
Unfortunately, Jason knew that too.
“Okay.” Jason sighed quietly, giving a click of his tongue.
He then completely pulled his hand out of your shorts and pulled away from your body. It seemed like he was moving to get out of the bed - you worried you had accidentally triggered that signature pettiness in him.
But as usual, Jason Todd surprised you.
You bit your lip to hold back a cheer when he reached for the waistband of your shorts and underwear pulled them down all at once, exposing your hot, soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. (At some point, the blanket had been accidentally shoved off you.) You took a glance over your shoulder and of course, he was shoving his pants down to his knees. You caught a glimpse of his long, thick, hard cock bobbing out of the fabric in the darkness. But you didn’t dare to spend too much time admiring it, for fear of making him too cocky.
You relaxed against your pillow in satisfaction, waiting for Jason to grab a condom out of the bedside table’s drawer so that he could literally fuck you to sleep.
You were surprised when he scooted back toward you, pressing himself right up against your back once more. He proceeded to simply press his hips against yours - his cock laid flat against the bare folds of your leaking pussy, immediately becoming slick with your wetness. But be made no moves to grab a condom or even tease you by pushing inside of you raw.
(Which - yes, the two of you had agreed to always use condoms, but it was secretly a fantasy of yours that he would go against the rule because of his overbearing need to feel you raw - or even the need to cum inside of you).
But instead of doing any of that, Jason seemed to be settling in to relax.
Jason draped himself across your back, wrapped his arm around your waist again, and gently laid his head on your shoulder. But he made no effort to move, or fuck you. Your pussy throbbed with need, feeling the hot, hard length pressed against you, entirely unmoving. When you clenched around nothing, you let out a wave of slick that you knew he could feel right on his cock. You felt a groan catch inside his chest, but still, he didn’t move.
“Jason.” You breathed out, having to question him after a few more moments of silence and stillness. “What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep.” He answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought you wanted me to just shut up and leave you alone so that you could get some rest?”
That. Little. Shit.
You resisted the urge to elbow him in the face.
Obviously, being so close to you, he felt your entire body tense up with anger and annoyance. He was only able to partially hold back his satisfactory laughter. When the quiet snickers met your ears, you became even more annoyed.
“Jason.” You scolded him gruffly.
“Oh? I’m sorry,” He said, entirely sarcastic. “Did you want something?”
“Did you want something?” You parroted back, mocking his words in a childish voice.
Essentially, you had no more clever comebacks left. He had won.
“I guess I can give you something for your troubles, babe.” Jason sighed, as though it were a grand inconvenience to him. “Maybe just the tip, though.”
“Just the tip.” You sighed, finding yourself repeating his words once again. Though this time your voice was dead and sarcastic rather than mocking - mostly because you didn’t believe him.
You knew that in Jason land, ‘just the tip’ meant slamming his entire cock into you after the tip lingered in your entrance for a moment. You clenched down on nothing again at the thought.
Once again, you were expecting him to grab a condom so he could fuck you freely without worry. You were surprised when he peeled his body away from you slightly and reached down to grab his cock. After a moment of rubbing the fat cockhead along your folds to get it nice and wet, he did as promised and pushed the tip inside.
It was the first time he had ever been inside of you without the barrier of a condom, and feeling his hot, raw skin touching yours - even just a little bit, made you gasp.
“Jason!”
Your voice was whiny even to your own ears, so needy for him after so much teasing. Upon instinct, feeling that painfully empty ache coming from deep inside you, you arched your back and attempted to shove your hips toward him - attempted to pull more of his thickness inside of you. But Jason was quicker, and he had his hands on both your hips, shoving you down onto the bed so hard and fast that the tip of his cock fell out of you with a wet pop.
It was a sound that made heat beat through your cheeks, and the feeling of his wet cockhead brushing against the backs of your thighs took your breath away.
“Oops.” He chuckled, and moved to slot himself back into position.
You had no clue why it was so dizzyingly hot.
But this time he held you down firmly so you couldn’t simply fuck yourself back onto his cock. You moaned as the thickness of the cockhead popped back inside of you - you yearned for more, but he stayed still.
After a moment, he began to move his hips so slightly, feeding no more than an inch of his cock into your throbbing cunt before pulling it back out. It was an entirely careful movement on his part where he fed you the first inch, and didn’t let the tip pop out again, in pathetically shallow thrusts that could barely be called sex. Your pussy ached, tingled, yearned for more.
You mentally cursed Batman for teaching him such good self discipline and him using it for this.
“Jason.” You whined, trying fruitlessly to fight against the firm grip he had on your hips in order to fuck yourself on his cock.
“What, babe?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss a line across your shoulder.
“You know what.” You replied, your tone even more frustrated and whiny.
You wiggled your hips desperately, trying to get more of him inside of you. You yearned to feel the perfect ache of his thick cock splitting you open, hitting all of those perfect spots so deep inside of you.
“No, I don’t.” He told you, his voice somehow steady and confident. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”
You couldn’t see it or feel it, but his hips were trembling and his abs were tight with the pure resistance of his self control. All of the energy he was using not to slam his cock into the tight, warm velvet of your cunt, especially as he felt it leak so freely around the tip of his cock, knowing how badly you needed him. He wanted nothing more than to watch you whine and babble and fall apart on his cock - but he wanted to win just a little bit more.
There was a distinct pause. The last shreds of your own stubbornness hanging in the air, even as your cunt throbbed with need.
Even if Jason couldn’t see your face from this angle, he could feel the warring in your body. He knew you too well. And he knew how to break you down so perfectly.
“If you want anything more than this,” He told you, emphasizing the point with another pathetically shallow thrust. “If you want anything more than just the tip of my cock,” His voice was low and silken and creating even more heat that almost drowned you. “Then you’re gonna have to beg for it.”
“Fuck you, Jay.” You whined out in protest, once again trying to fight his grip on your hips to fuck yourself against him.
He viciously dug his fingers into the fat of your hips, causing a sharp sound from your throat at the beautiful pain.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and growled out his next words in a low tone that dragged through your insides in the exact spot where his cock should have been.
“Come on.” He urged you on. “Fucking. Beg.”
That was when you broke.
At least you hadn’t given in too easily.
“Please,” You whined out breathlessly. “Please, fuck me! Fuck me, Jason! I need it.”
“What else?” Jason asked expectantly.
You could have killed him. But when your desperate cunt unconsciously clenched down on the fat head of his cock and you felt yourself growing only more hot and needy, you knew that there was only one thing to do.
“I’m sorry, Jay, I should have - I should have just asked nicely in the first place. I do need it. I need your big cock inside of me so badly.” You poured it on thick, emphasizing the last words in the most pornographic voice you could muster, hoping that he was running low on self control as well.
And he was. So he was very satisfied with this. He grinned into your skin, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on the back of your neck before he mumbled out ‘good girl’ - something that made you moan out sharply.
You let out a sharp noise of disappointment when his cock popped out of you again.
“I need a condom.” He told you, giving you a reassuring pat on the ass. “As much as I’d love to cum inside you, we do have an agreement.”
You weren’t sure which was hotter - his sex-thick voice admitting that he shared one of your deepest fantasies, or the fact that he was caring so deeply for you, making sure that he protected you with a condom even when you were in that floating headspace and willing to let him do just about anything do your body.
Your mind was swimming contemplating it, and next thing you knew it, he had the condom on successfully. He then slammed his cock inside of you in one firm, smooth movement. Any thoughts were easily pounded out of your head by the practiced movement of his hips.
“Better now?” Jason grunted into your ear.
You could practically feel his smugness radiating through his cock, spearing into you.
But you were now alight with intense pleasure, warm satisfaction rolling through you - so you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care about how smug he was. Every bit of cockiness he had, he did back it up with a pretty big dick that he knew how to use well. Not that you would ever say those words aloud to him. Not even on your deathbed.
“Just shut up and fuck me.” You ordered, though it was breathless and had no bite.
“As you wish, babe.” He replied, and then doubled down - his hips fucking into you with an intense fury.
You moaned like a whore at this, finally feeling that dizzying fullness that you had been craving since he had snuck his touch into your shorts. Jason drank up your sounds and easily wanted more - more of your perfect pussy squeezing around his cock, more of that wetness coating his inner thighs, more of that filthy wet smacking as he fucked into you.
He leaned down, draping his body fully over yours once again, creating a pleasantly smothering weight on top of you as you laid on your stomach on the bed with your face nearly drowned in the pillow. He slowed the pace of his hips to a dangerous torture of a grind, fucking you so deeply now that you were sure you could feel him coming up inside of your throat. You let out a wounded noise, and he hushed you gently.
“Shh, babe, I’ve got you.” He whispered into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.”
He moved one of his hands from your hip and shoved it between your body and the bed, and once again he was cupping your mound fully in his hand - but this time there was no fabric barrier, and he was settled deep inside of you. It was filling your whole body with lava, turning every place he touched you to boiling ash. You were sure that you would have dissolved into nothingness if not for the anchor of your cunt hanging onto his cock, keeping you grounded in reality with that slight nip of pain as your muscles clenched onto him.
“Now say thank you.” He told you, his voice so gruff in your ear, so thick with desire that it made you dizzy. “Thank me for giving you my cock.”
He used two precise fingers to rub circles on your neglected clit, immediately sending shockwaves through your body that made your muscles jump and jolt.
You gulped for air and struggled to move your face out of the fabric of the pillow, and Jason saw this. He moved his other hand and slid it under your cheek, gripping under your jaw to fully lift you up.
He stilled his hips completely once again, causing a pained sound to emanate from your lungs as you clamped down on his cock deep inside of you while he continued to relentlessly work over your tender clit. He gave you a couple of seconds to catch your breath. But you were so cock dumb that you had to be reminded of the goal.
“Come on, baby.” He encouraged you, pressing his lips to your cheek that he wasn’t holding onto. “Say ‘thank you’.”
“Thank you.” You easily repeated back, now completely pliant to his desires. “Thank you for-for your cock.”
“Good girl.” Jason praised you once again.
Then he began fucking into you once more - it only took a few careful thrusts of his hips and the talent of his fingers on your clit to finally bring your orgasm to life. He shoved his tongue into your mouth as you screamed through it, imitating some sloppy version of a kiss while you flailed and creamed on his cock, your body becoming truly boneless and tired as the orgasm rocked you.
When it was finished, he was still throbbing hard inside of you, and you let out a whine of disappointment. You were absolutely dead tired now, and you couldn’t even think of how much energy it would take to finish him off. Mister ‘Twice In A Sunday’ could last quite a long time, and that didn’t exactly work for you in that moment.
“You can go to sleep now, babe.” He whispered into your ear. “I’ll clean you up when I’m done.”
He began thrusting into you once more, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed.
It ended up being a good night for both of you.
...
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Five Hargreeves Dirty Headcanons ABC's
(Rated M for sexually explicit content, 5438 words, the last one for Z is sort of a mini story for you to enjoy. This list explores Five and his relationship with 'you' while taking a small dive into his very complicated psyche and looking at some of the reasons why he is the way he is. This is written with 'you' as anyone-not male or female specific.)
Note~ me doing this idea was actually born from me not sleeping last night, and a request my dearest friend Bad Kitty got to do a list this way. She just did a headcanon for Five, so she respectfully declined. Check her stuff out with the link above and I swear you won't be disappointed.
All right.... I hope I did this in a way that's satisfying for all you lovely Five fans out there. 🤞
A- A student, Aftercare
Number Five doesn't do anything half ass, and that includes you. He’s a hyper focused genius who is going to study you like you’re just another thing he needs to conquer. Every sign your body gives him that he’s doing something right will be cataloged and used to his and your benefit. Five is all about attention to detail and from the moment the tip of his thick cock slips inside you, to the moment he’s done filling you, your pleasure is his. He will always make sure you come, usually more than once and always screaming his name.
With aftercare, he’ll be sure to touch you with the most cautious and gentle of touches as he wipes up the mess he made of you, his soft green eyes dementedly delighting in the glisten of his seed leaking out of you onto the sheets.
B- Biting, Bondage
Five may seem refined, but he loves to let the feral part of him go wild when he’s with you, not just when he’s swinging an ax through someone’s face. Biting his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you cry out, or softly nibbling on the shell of your ear never gets old. Your agitated sounds of complaint when he does these things arouse dark parts in him that only make him want to drag his teeth along your skin and confuse you even more. Biting your quivering lower lip as his hips violently thrust into you and your nails dig into his back is just one of the ways he makes sure you never forget that you are his.
As a trained killer who loves to exert his power over others, Five is not opposed to using the silk length of his tie to bind your wrists, fastening them above your head, then to the headboard so you can’t touch him. Now you can’t get away-not that you want to.
The look of you that way and the feel of your body under him reminds Five of being with Dolores. She couldn’t touch him back no matter how much he wished she could, and now neither can you.
C- Control
Thanks to Five’s upbringing where he didn't get to learn what it meant to have the love of a real parent, he suffers from issues of self-worth and trust. He wanted approval, but all he ever got was ridicule and abuse. Due to this, he naturally developed coping mechanisms, such as the need to be the best at everything and becoming extremely self-reliant.
Five is the king of survival, and he knows how to take care of himself. As such, he struggles with the need to control everything. This includes many things in your relationship, especially with all things sex.
D- Dominance, Dolores
Five is dominant, there’s no question about it. Living a lifetime with Dolores as his only companion only instilled that quality in him even more. This plays heavily in his joy of you calling him Daddy, and that has little to do with his real mental age of being way older than he looks, and much more to do with him wanting to take care of you because that’s what he knows and is good at.
Just like with his beloved mannequin, Five loves manhandling you into positions that make it even better when he fucks his long hard cock into you. With a sheen of sweat causing his chocolate fringe of hair to stick to his forehead, Five could pin you down and thwack his hips into your ass while it's flipped up in the air all day long, all the while maintaining a devilish side smirk and insisting that you are doing such a good job for Daddy.
He's such a wonderfully fucked up jerk, but you love your daddy for all his kinks and oddball quirks. Even his little ticks make you want him even more.
E- Escapism
Sex is about love for Five. He’s just that kind of man.
He could fuck anyone, but he didn’t, not until he found you. He couldn’t open that part of himself without the intimacy that a real love based relationship gives him. That’s not to say that sex isn’t his favorite form of escapism because it is.
Five is hardly a simple man, but to him, the ecstasy of having an orgasm and the momentary blind eroticism of feeling your body release in that way are just part of what it means for him to be human. He is filled with a mysterious power that may or may not be originally from the alien race his adoptive father belonged to, but he’s still a man and he loves to fuck.
F- Fingers
This guy’s long sexy fingers are really something, whether you look at him using his dexterity when steadily pulling the trigger that ends someone’s life in the blink of an eye, or if it’s when he’s running them between your legs, languishing in the feel of your engorged flesh wetly dripping for him. Don’t be surprised if Five sucks your lust off his dangerous digits, or if he forces them in your mouth after he’s had them inside you. Both options are great in his mind, and he’ll never get enough of tasting you or good naturedly debasing you.
G- Grasping, Growling, Groping, Gripping
While hoisting your ass off the bed so he can pump his cock into you with an unforgiving rhythm that makes your insides clench around him and your mouth drop open wide while you gasp out stuttering profanities, Five is for sure going to latch onto your hips, your waist, your hair, your neck, your thighs, or basically anything he can get his hands on.
What you have is his, and he’s not letting it go. When your bodies are connected, he couldn’t be happier. Growling out throaty sounds of euphoria as his tip slips back and forth just inside your slicked entrance, Five knows just how to manipulate your body, and he knows it’s driving you equally crazy.
H- Humping, Holes
With no shame and little other options, Five is no stranger to getting off by humping inanimate objects, but thankfully, now he has you. Still, you are often a target for his hip thrusting exertions where his hot length grinds against the side of your leg, or your ass crack. He really likes doing this when he wakes up with a boner that refuses to be ignored.
You don’t mind, he is young again after all.
It’s hot as hell watching Five lose himself in such an innocent way, but your heart also breaks a little when you think of all the loneliness he’s had to endure and why he’s still attached to doing this.
The good news is, he’s healing from all that. He has other options when it comes to being with you, and he’s not about to overlook several places on your body where he can insert his needy cock. Five isn’t picky, he will fuck any hole you let him pound.
I- Imagination
Let’s face it, Five has a very big imagination. Dolores anyone….
Without his ability to imagine her love for him, he wouldn’t be here. She was his voice of reason, and what he considers the personification of all the best parts of him. Without Five there would be no Dolores, and without her, there would be no Five.
Thanks to that enamel covered molding of plastic and resin, you have Five and his imagination is just as strong as it ever was. He never seems to run out of ways to ravish you. Like in public, when he blinks you into a fitting room where he then shoves you against a mirror and slips his fingers and then his cock inside you while he watches your hands palm the glass and your eyes droop.
It’s all Five and his imagination coming to life. He makes your head spin and your body spasm your shuttering release.
He gets stuck in his head sometimes, but it’s not all bad. Sometimes it's just in him fretting giving you small gifts to show how much you mean to him or it's in the simple but as meaningful things he loves to do, like him quietly reading your favorite book to you while you lay together in bed.
J- Jerking off
Five knows how to polish his palm. One might say he’s the master of masturbation.
Needs being such in his many times of despair, the act of self-love gave him something other than pain and suffering to think about. Eventually, for a young boy all alone in the apocalypse, his desire to lose himself in this way became an addition. Smart as he is, Five knew this was happening, but he still became reliant on it, and now he’s still partly that boy, and also that lonely man, sometimes a bit too involved with playing around with his hands down his pants.
He’s shameless about it, never shy about taking his hardened shaft out to show you how it’s done. Fingers tightly curled around the base, he’ll slide them up and down his erection, sure to prolong his climax as long as possible. Not until he’s had enough will he tease the super sensitive slit and the bulbing band of his cherry red tip with his forefinger, circling it round and round before he goes at it hard, fucking himself so brutally his hand is nothing but a blur.
Not one to leave you out, when Five throws his head back and growls, “Get your pretty mouth over here,” you listen. Then you are compensated with the sound of Five groaning out your name as hot spurts his nearly translucent semen flick onto your waiting tongue and then drip down your lips onto your chin.
K- Kissing
The simple pleasure of kissing someone real was something Five had not known until he found you. Not until your first kiss did he understand why people in the romance novels he’d read seemed to be so taken by it.
The first time he looked into your eyes, knowing you saw him for who he really was, all the good and the bad, and that you wanted him anyway, he nervously but determinedly advanced. Slowly at first, he came within a hair’s width from your lips as his uneasy breaths danced across your skin. He was scared, but the moment his mouth touched yours and then molded around your warmth, softly pressing into your acceptance, he never looked back.
Now, after he’s had time to learn how to do it. Five is all about kissing. Running his tongue across your teeth, or tangling it with yours, it doesn’t matter. He’s in heaven when his mouth is on yours.
L- Licking
Five may not look it, but he’s strong, and so is his tongue, and he’s not afraid to fuck you with it. Before you come, he’ll get you so worked up and dripping with anticipation that it’s insane. He’ll happily lap your liquid desire for him until you’re a puddle of goo, laying there with him between your legs, the backs of your knees dangling limply over his heaving shoulders. Catching his breath after your body has just repeatedly tensed and then uncoiled, giving itself over to his mouth, he’ll chuckle at your state of complete and utter destruction, his boyishly handsome dimple doing you in even more.
M- Manipulation
Five is very clever and knows how to get what he wants but he doesn't mentally try to manipulate you. He will however indulge in the fantasy of using you as his own personal fuck doll. This, as is many of his tastes is simply something that's a part of him ,as much as his witty yet dryly delivered comments. Sometimes he asks nicely for you to lay down and not move as much as possible, sometimes he prefers to take your options away manually, and that's when we get the extra special suppressive simulation of bondage added to his sexual exploits.
N- Nuzzling, Naughty talk
Five is many things, uninhibited in bed being only one of them, but he’s also the most loving and tender person you’ve ever known. He shows this in many ways, but one that never gets old is when he’s feeling exceptionally needy and he buries his face against your neck, murmuring sweet nothings about how much you mean to him while he brushes the tip of his nose along the underside of your jaw. He’ll press his face against your ear, cherishing the smell of your hair and the feeling of your skin against his. Five can’t get enough of loving you in these small but passionate ways.
Also, while doing this and at many other times as well, Five lets his silver tongue go verbally, never ceasing to shock you with the dirty things he comes up with. If he tells you to get over here and sit on his dick and ride until he says stop, that’s always fun, and so is watching his eyes comically roll back in his head as he cries out how fucking good you are a taking his cock.
O- Ownership
Five is possessive. He doesn’t covet things unless they have value, and he doesn’t have much to his name and never did. He is a simple man in this way. He was also the kid who did not let the other kids play with his toys, and with you now it’s no different.
He’s not the type to prevent you from doing anything you want, but he is extremely territorial. If something is important to Five, like you are, or even when we are talking about something as seemingly insignificant as one of his tailored suits, if someone dares fuck with the things he holds dear, they are in trouble.
Five doesn’t own you but you own his heart, and if anyone he’s not okay with gets too handsy and lays a finger on you or the fine wool fabric of his sexy suit, expect retaliation and not always something as simple as him angrily swatting their hand away followed by a few choice words of distaste.
P- Punishment, Promises
Being someone that considers their opinion to be more often than not the only one that matters, Five comes off very harsh at times, but with you it’s all a game.
Teasing him about his real age brings out a side in him that’s all about showing you who’s the boss. And one of his favorite ways of doing it is threatening you with holding back when your body is just about to start convulsing from the rhythmic roll of hips pushing his dick so far inside you that you're sure he’s hitting your belly button. Another way is when he throws a hand back and smacks you in the ass while you’re already struggling to keep hold of the sheets so he doesn’t fuck you straight through the mattress.
Five’s promises to take care of you are just as true as his promises that you will pay for your sassy little comments. Together, your back-and-forth, fight style flirtations always lead to him getting overly worked up, and you getting pinned somewhere like against a wall while he frantically fucks his own brains out by way of pounding the fuck out of you.
Q- Quivering, Quaking
Five is beautiful. His soft bedroom eyes with their long dark lashes fanning his flushed cheeks as he looks down at you underneath him take your breath away almost as effectively as his desperate kisses. But it’s after he’s finally let go and let himself fall over the edge, when you can feel the heat of his cock quaking its last grievances inside you, his body quivering as his legs let go and he collapses at your side, that you are both the most at peace.
R- Rough
Five loves to take you any way he can, but the guy loves it rough. His lean body and his sinewy muscles making a mouth watering ‘V’ as they point like an arrow downwards towards his perfectly tailored dress pants, spelling out all kinds of trouble, but in this case, it's the good kind of trouble.
His body is built for action and that’s what you’re going to get. Five loves to surprise you by blinking himself right on top of you, holding you down with his legs as he attacks. Be it all his training as a child, or as an assassin, Five Hargreeves likes to fuck hard and fast, with his hands holding you down under him with no mercy.
S- Submission
Five craves your submission. Just hearing you beg for it gets him hard, and he often demands you verbalize how much you want him to fuck you harder, or make you come. He'll get you to say it, or he’ll stop thrusting his cock inside you. While you’re losing your mind, he’ll merely look down at you with his cocky grin, just waiting for you to plead with him to give you his cock again.
When it goes the other way, at least when it’s in between the sheets, Five is rarely the one to give himself over that way, but with you, he will. But he only does so knowing that it’s in his benefit.
There’s been more than once he has shown you how much he trusts you, and wow is it a sight to watch Five Hargreeves wither and writhe as you torment all his sense, using blindfolds and gags, and even handcuffs to keep his greedy hands off until you say so.
Imagine his face twisted with agony, lips parted as helpless moans for more pour out of him.
T- Tits
Your body is a wonderland, plain and simple. Anything Five can stimulate himself with while also getting a rise out of you is fair game, and that includes tits.
Small ones, big ones, his or yours, whatever. Five adores the perky points of flesh that he can nipple and suck on. Making them hard nubs with the carefully cruel but also sometimes achingly gentle tugs and rolls between his fingers, is one of his favorite pastimes whether in the privacy of your bed, or in public if he can get away with it.
U- Unlimited energy
The nature of Five’s ability to teleport is something that he never really talks much about, but you know that within him is an infinite strength. Without it, he’d never be able to summon enough energy to propel himself through time and space; it's just simple math.
That said, this same quality of his very unique power allows him an unfair advantage in bed.
Five has unlimited levels of vigor while he’s bucking his hips back and forth and his cock slips in and out, over and over and over. Always a perfectionist, he prefers you get off before him, but even when he’s not so lucky, he can rally. Using his already spent dick, semi hard and still throbbing from the loads of cum he just dumped in or on you, Five will show you that his recovery period is just as extraordinary as he is, and the next thing you know, your sexy teleporter is showing you a whole new rhythm with his hips smacking into yours.
V- Vulnerability
Most of the time, the people in this world that seem the most aloof and coldly indifferent are actually the most desperate and in need of love.
Five is this person.
All his traits point to this. With his extreme levels of trauma, he will always be this way. He longs for the acceptance he never got from Reginald and his siblings. Deep down he’s terrified of showing weakness because if he does, that means he can be hurt. The reality is, he’s already been hurt more than almost anyone that’s ever walked the planet, but in his vulnerability and fear is so much love.
Never the one to give up, Five is trying to learn how to accept the parts of himself that he hates and see that he’s someone deserving of happiness. You are a huge part of that.
W- Whimpers, Whispers, Whines
Anything that comes out of you that sounds broken and desperate makes Five’s dick and mind go wild. The more you keen and struggle, the more he tries to get more of it. It’s pretty much a vicious cycle of torment that’s part narcissistic fulfillment, and also purely for the joy of making you feel amazing. Five feeds off your pleasure.
X- X marks the spot
Five has left his mark on you. Whether he knows he’s doing it or not, he’s taken claim of your body and soul. Let’s face it, he occupies way too many of your thoughts. But his accusation of all that is yours doesn’t stop there. He also loves to mark physically.
Five uses his teeth, tongue, sucking, and licking. He’s an expert, using anything he has at his disposal. He leaves trails of his claim over you for all to see. He’s like a puppy, unable to help himself as his mouth covers you with anxious expressions of love.
Y- You
When we think about Five Hargreeves, we outwardly see a person that one would think only thinks about himself, but it’s actually the complete opposite.
As we know from his troubling past, he’s made mistakes and he’s paid for them, and all along it’s been his love for his family that willed him to keep going. Now, that’s still there despite their continued differences, but his aim in life is more directed at you.
Five wants nothing more than to make you happy. He’ll never stop being scared of losing you no matter how confident he seems. It’s not his fault; he’s lost so much, over and over.
Right or wrong, he also makes you a priority in all things orgasmic bliss. If he’s going solo, you and your naked body welcoming him are all that’s on his mind. When you are together, he’s damn sure to see to it that you get off. He’s a teleporting, ex-temporal assassin that may or may not be the founder of a time controlling agency, but first and foremost, Five Hargreeves is a gentleman, and a gentleman always takes care of his business, and you are his number one business.
Z- Zippers (Heads up~ This one is special because with it, I’m giving you guys a little taste of more in the moment/story writing that I am more used to doing. This part being very similar to something a very naughty version of Five does to someone in the story I wrote called ‘The Devil Within’)
One of the most erotic sounds in Five’s opinion is the sound of his zipper being pulled down by your careful hand as you coyly gaze up at him with your adoring eyes.
Looking between his widely spread legs at the sight of you kneeling before him, ready to do as he asks, makes him feel more powerful than he’s ever felt, and that’s saying a lot because Five is very, very powerful and has done unimaginable things.
It starts with a steadiness in his soothing words and his hand brushing along your cheek, then moving back into your hair. His fingers thread along your spine as he pulls you closer.
You can already see the bulge of his desire even before you open his pants, but now, pulling the fabric aside, you see the outline of Five’s erection filling the thin cotton underwear still covering him.
You know what he’s going to do but he warns you anyway.
“You’re going to eat my cock and love it, honey.”
Licking your lips, you nod.
Coming down on him, you kiss the wet spot of darkened material covering his deliciously rounded tip. Just thinking of it inside you, opening you up almost painfully, has you wishing you could touch yourself, but you don’t dare because right now, this is about him.
Sliding a hand down, Five pushes his underwear down, freeing his stiff cock.
You let out a little whimper.
Feeling pretty damn proud, Five grabs a wad of your hair, then sharply pulls your head, pushing you down closer to his body.
“Don’t be a tease, sweetheart” he tauntingly sings with misleadingly boyish play in his voice.
You lick your lips again, then open your mouth around him, your tongue leisurely tracing up the raised veins roping the length of his engorged shaft.
After only one pass, you stop to gauge Five’s reaction.
The moment he locks eyes with you, you wrap your lips around him and Five is quick to push you down without warning, forcing you to gag around him as you struggle and gasp for air.
Smirking, Five lets you sit that way, allowing you to adjust as he lets out a low groan over that sinful act of ruthlessness. His fingers play with your hair, petting you even if it is a degrading form of encouragement. Doing as he pleases, Five refuses to adjust the pressure he is putting on the back of your throat.
With a small smile of approval over your quick submission, Five reaches down, requesting you give him your hands. You do, then he proceeds to place them palm down on his thighs. Taking your hair again, Five lets you move freely, bobbing your head up and down, mostly working his tip with your tongue.
Your eyes flutter and your fingernails gently dig into Five’s slouched slacks as he starts rocking your head back and forth over him, making his dick disappear inside your wet mouth. Holding you the way he is, with your head tilted back, your throat open and lined up perfectly, it gives Five the deepest penetration and a view that before being with you, he’s only ever seen in porn, and the sight and the feel of it is making his already heavy cock feel like it might truly choke you if he gets any more turned on.
“If it’s too much let me know,” he says, clearly indicating that you should push back if he is too rough or if he makes you take him too deep.
He isn’t expecting it, but you immediately push back, then start circling your tongue around his cockhead as you moan. This is all part of the fun, but since this was not what he wants, Five's mind whirls with punishments he could deliver, but his stomach also fills with wonderful butterflies the more he listens to you. As you tease the underside of his shaft, his breathing grows heavy, and he can’t help but grind against your marvelous tongue.
Reaching up, your hand drags down over Five’s tensed abdomen. You’re taking your time with him, and it is evident you’re enjoying it, and the feeling of each ridge between his muscles as he holds his body tight, trying not to sway.
Five has to admit, he is enjoying this too, but then you wrap your hand around him, covering the base of his shaft, only not moving it. His hands clench and his knuckles whiten as he lets out a rough sounding sigh of exasperation.
Letting his penetrating gaze settle on you, Five is just about to start thrusting down your throat again when your hand begins to move and your head shallowly bobs over his drizzling tip while you softly suck.
Five’s body shudders and you respond by moving your hand up his length, jerking him a few times before pressing your thumb gently but firmly against the underside of his shaft where your mouth is popping on and off.
Sudden waves of pleasure hit him, followed by shaky breaths as his fingers tighten their grip on you. Taking complete control of your movements again, Five forces your head down, pushing your lips sliding along all the way to his pubic bone, only pulling your head up again so he can fuck into your throat all over again.
It’s not like he didn’t warn you or give you an out. Still, there’s no denying he isn’t getting a sick sort of pleasure from your tears, wet gags, and each and every spasm of your throat, and there is no way he isn’t enjoying the sound of your desperate whines and moans.
You want this as much as he does and you are not tapping out, but your fingers are digging into his thighs as your eyes roll back so far in your head that Five is sure your brain must be turning off because he just skewered it.
Loving every second of dominating you by roughly fucking your face so hard he is making it impossible for you to think, Five pays you back for doing so good by not holding in his deep moans and low grunts of euphoria, but all too quickly he has to stop, or it will be over, and he doesn’t want that at all.
As his hips slow and pull away, your swollen lips gently popped off him.
Your brows furrow upwards as you watch Five with a needy expression. Feeling like he can get away with it, he taps your chin with the end of his cock, spreading the drips of drool that you can’t help but have after taking him that long and hard.
Five smiles down at you, a wickedly charming sort of look spreading across his face as he watches you wordlessly begging. He tightens his grip on the back of your head.
“God, you are fucking beautiful,” he breathes, then suddenly yanks your hair back, forcing you to crane your neck back. “I can’t wait to paint your face.”
After a few more taps to your waiting tongue, Five swiftly brings you down on him again, immediately causing you to gag. The sound of your body fighting him and the feel of your moans buzzing against him as you twitch and repeatedly try to swallow, all have him close to the edge again, but he can’t stop now even if he wanted to.
Soon, his rhythm becomes even more aggressive as he takes your head in both hands, slamming his cock into your mouth while griding the back of your throat against his tip before pulling off, only to repeat the process.
“You really wanted my dick, didn’t you?” Five breathlessly sputters as he throws his head back and his pale green eyes disappear under his heavy eyelids.
Inevitably his brutal pattern has become more erratic. Eventually, Five pulls back, fully pulling out. His hand that was tangled in the strands of your hair is moved to your puffy lips instead.
Jerking your chin up with his free hand, he urgently askes, “Do you think you can swallow all of it?”
You eagerly nod.
With an air of desperation coming out of him, Five strokes himself needily, bringing himself closer and closer as you watch in anticipation, your mouth open and tongue out.
With a few sharp inhales, Five’s body begins to tremor, and his legs begin to feel like they could give out on him. One of his heels squeaks on the floor as he drives himself forward, intent on delivering.
A long string of rough groans fall from Five's gaped lips as you flinch and reactively shut your eyes in response to the pearls of white falling over your waiting tongue.
Having plenty of pent-up sexual tension, not to mention a lifetime of being deprived of anything to this level of sexual eroticism, Five’s superpowered youthfully charged load repeatedly spurts out of him in heavy ropes, just like it always does.
You swallow and swallow, trying to keep up, but even though you are, Five deliberately pulls back, letting the last of his cum land across your flushed cheeks, some even dripping down, landing on your breathless body.
"Oh fuck," he gasps with his hand clasped around his shaft. His angry grip keeps moving but much more slowly as it passes over his length while he rides the last incredible waves of his release.
His crisp white dress shirt moves up and down, faster than normal as he looks down at the mess he’d made of you.
“Such a good job for daddy,” he dizzily breathes before coming down to kiss your lips, his come covering them not at all stopping him. As his hands cradle your head, he breaks away just long enough to say, "I fucking love you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There we have it people…..
🎶-Now I know my ABC’s…and you guys got to get inside’s Five’s pervy head with me. 🎶
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Every little thing you do- Part 12
Tommy Shelby x reader
Series Master list
Hello… it’s me 🫢 with another part of this series, please forgive me for taking so long, hoping the inspiration fairies will visit me soon ✨so… how will their relationship turn after this? 🥰 thank you so much for reading!
Word count: 3,514
Tommy was losing his patience, there was a snitch ruining his plans and even though he was already taking care of that, he couldn’t let his guard down. He needed to convince the Russians to be on his side and keep Father Hughes close to find his weaknesses.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he felt about it. After leaving the Petrovna gathering he was replaying in his mind Father Hughes’ reactions, he needed to take him down and he wanted to do it himself. That priest was everything but an example to people, arrogant, thought he knew all about everything and it irritated Tommy. But the key to him was through the Russian family.
Perhaps he could eventually make the Petrovna family betray themselves if he played his hand correctly, they were desperate for money and status. He just needed to be really careful and play his part.
With a groan he made his way upstairs, feeling his steps heavy. Ada would go to sleep whenever she wanted, he had asked Mary to have a room ready for her and Karl all the time because lately they’ve been staying over more frequently. His sister had been so helpful with the last touches to the foundation, she made sure the grand opening was successful and everything was running according to the original plans. He tried to push it as long as possible, but delaying the project to wait for Y/N to wake up would be unfair for the children and deep down he knew she wouldn’t want that.
Feeling tired he threw the jacket of his suit on the bed, followed by his tie. Taking the gun from its holster, he placed the weapon in the small of his back using the waistband of his pants as support. Discarding the rest of his clothes, his mind went to the following steps of his plans, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the knock on his door.
“Mary?”
But he heard Ada’s voice clearly followed by a gasp and a Jesus.
Turning around he found the door slightly open and he heard voices in the hallway.
“What’s the matter?” He quickly went to see what was happening.
“I j-just knocked to see if you needed anything Mr. Shelby.” Mary stammered.
Ada stared at the maid and then looked at her brother, confusion evident in her eyes.
“No thank you Mary, you can have some rest.” He quickly replied.
Just as Ada was about to talk to him, Karl started crying in her bedroom so she excused herself and rushed to calm her son.
An overwhelming feeling washed over him and his eyes fixed in Y/N’s bedroom and he couldn’t help but walk in, everything was just like she left it. The bottle of perfume she refused to use in the beginning, her hairbrush and mirror, the jewelry box… as his eyes moved across the room, he found the trunk he bought for her just a few days before she got shot, his fingers trembled when he touched the perfect woodcraft at the top. Opening it and he felt his heartbreak in two as he realized Y/N had been filling it with blankets and clothes for her baby.
A sob escaped his lips. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled into the silence. And he was, he really felt sorry for what happened to Y/N.
That room shouldn’t be dark and lonely, she should be there.
Closing the trunk he felt his chest heavy, guilt was eating him alive. The feeling was more than he could handle and he rushed to leave. Once again inside his own bedroom, Tommy went straight for a glass of whiskey, downing in mere seconds.
He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t lay down on his bed and pretend to sleep peacefully while Y/N was battling for her life in the hospital. So he went downstairs, not bothering on putting his shirt on.
Pouring himself a drink, he sat in front of the fire, his eyes fixed on the flames flicking. The correspondence piled on his desk captured his attention, it had been accumulating since Y/N wasn’t reminding him to check it. Taking a sip of his drink, Tommy stood up to grab the envelopes, going one by one, he left a few letters directed towards the children’s Institute, he was saving those for Y/N. But suddenly his eyes stopped at one of the envelopes, in bold letters it said it was urgent and important.
Returning to his previous spot at the couch, he used his knife to open it and quickly ran his eyes through the words direct to any of Arthur Sr’s children.
It basically said that his father had passed away, he was shot.
Tommy stared at the letter for a while, his eyes fixed completely in the words. The news of his Father’s passing away took him by surprise and he couldn’t help it but think about how broken their relationship was. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw him, or a happy memory in his presence.
He was just a stranger, somebody who didn’t care about him or his siblings.
And for some reason, he didn’t feel pity for the old man. In the end the old man got what he deserved.
Battling with the internal turmoil, he decided to gather the following day his brothers and some peaky men to hunt, there wasn’t an ideal way to share the news and deep down he knew all his brothers had a difficult relationship with their father, but he hoped it was the right thing to do, to try to gain some closure.
That and sharing the plans for his next move, he needed to recruit the best men and also work on finding the Duchess’s weakness, she’d be fundamental to carry on his plans but she was smart and she’d want something in return.
And soon he’d confirm it, because by the time he returned home the following day there was a Bentley parked outside his house.
For fucks sake, he thought. He wasn’t expecting Tatiana it was just a bold move from her, she was desperate and pathetic.
Her seduction tactics were literally a joke, se was just a spoiled little princess living of dreams and people bowing. When she placed her hand on his cheek, Tommy didn’t feel anything, she’d probably provide a good blowjob, a wild one night stand… but that was it.
“You seem a bit off.” She soon realized by his lack of enthusiasm.
“I’m tired.” He lied, it slipped off his lips so easily.
“Mary is quite a character.” Tatiana stated folding her arms. “She seems so loyal.”
Tommy took his cigarette case and raised his eyebrows nonchalantly. “Hmm.”
“I’ve a theory about maids, there’s always one in love with her master, fantasizing about you, she’d do anything you ask.” The Duchess chuckled about her own words.
Tommy stared at her with his head tilted to the side. She was using her free time to make fucking theories about the maids instead of doing something useful.
“And what’s the result for your theory?”
“I think for you, that maid it’s Mary.” Tatiana laughed. “Haven’t you notice something off?”
Tommy wanted to roll his eyes at her. Her level of boredom amused but didn’t surprise him.
“Do you’ve an employee after you?” He asked instead.
“Oh yes. Maybe I can confirm it tonight, see her reaction squirming and getting uncomfortable.”
Tommy thought how twisted and sick Tatiana was. He didn’t want to know if her stupid theory was right, he didn’t want to put on a show in front of his maid.
He was desperately looking for a way to escape her, to find a way out of that situation because Tatiana seemed determined to carry on her own plans, but rejecting her, would cause him a lot of trouble so he needed to play along…just as he was about to sit next to her when the phone started ringing.
His heart stopped beating for a moment, sudden phone calls this late only meant bad news.
“Arrow House.” He replied automatically, praying for the first time.
“Tom? Is that ye?” Johnny Dogs asked.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Y/N…. She’s awake.”
Tommy didn’t listen to the following, Johnny’s voice sounded so far away. He felt underwater, like he was dreaming, the shovels on the wall hammering his brain. Somehow he asked Mary to get someone to drive Tatiana back home and then he rushed towards the door grabbing his coat in the process, leaving the Duchess perplexed and fuming for not getting the attention she thought she deserved.
If someone asked him what happened in between that phone call and the drive towards the hospital he wouldn’t be able to explain it. He didn’t know how he was able to drive, his hands were shaking, his heart was pounding like thunder.
And right now he didn’t care if Y/N’s family kicked him out, he would step back from her life if they wanted to, but he had to see her.
But it was impossible and not because of her family, but because there were a dozen of people inside her bedroom, between doctors and nurses. They needed to take samples for exams, do endless examinations and run tests to be able to determine the damage and consequences.
He spent the entire night pacing the white hallway up and down. Trying to have a word with each hospital staff that left her room, they still didn’t have answers.
His neck protested when he looked up, finding Y/N’s grandma sitting on an uncomfortable chair, the sun was almost up.
“Did you see her?”
The woman gave him a nod. “She squeezed my hand.”
“Why don’t you go and have some rest, I’ll stay here.” Tommy offered.
But she was already shaking her head. “No until I know she’s fine.”
Aching for a smoke, Tommy had no choice but to lean forward. “Do you remember when she fell from the fence and hit her head?”
They both chuckled at the memory.
“Was that when you asked me for a needle and thread to sew something?”
A smile formed on his lips, he was so fucking scared when he saw the blood, that he went pale. And when her grandma squinted her eyes and asked what really happened he told her the truth. In the end the blood came from the scratch on her knee but she rubbed her temple, therefore why she had blood on her head.
“I knew she wouldn’t give up.” Her grandma added patting his arm. “And you shouldn’t either.”
Confused by her statement, Tommy looked at her, but the woman got up and walked towards the reception. Leaving him to deal with the internal turmoil that just started inside him.
All kinds of people walked past him, some visiting, some leaving, a few nuns with a Bible and a basket of sandwiches… he had already paid a nurse to keep him updated before anyone else, and unlike his usual reactions he kept away from making a scandal, decided to keep a low profile for Y/N’s sake.
“She didn’t want to, but had a few sips of soup.” The nurse informed him with a smile.
But when a doctor approached him in the waiting room, his face changed. Was something wrong?
“Her mother refused, but the patient has been asking to see you.”
“She said she wouldn’t let anyone run any other test or check on her, they’re actually arguing about it as we speak, she’s quite stubborn.”
Touching the match inside the pocket of his coat, Tommy rubbed the edge nervously.
Tommy left his comfortable position against the wall he had adopted for the last few minutes and grabbed the doctor’s shoulders.
“How’s she doing? How’s the baby?”
“Her physical exam is well, she recognized everyone and if she’s already arguing with her mother, it’d take it as a good sign.” The doctor explained. “But we still have to wait for the blood sample and other studies.”
Feeling some relief, Tommy sighed loudly, leaning his head against the wall. A few minutes passed before he could put a step inside her room.
Hesitating first, Tommy took his time before opening the door. He wasn’t ready for the way her sight hit him.
The moment he had been waiting patiently finally was happening; Y/N was sitting on her hospital bed, a bandage crossing her from shoulder to shoulder, she looked pale and fragile and the attempt of smile seemed to demand a lot of effort from her, but she was alive… and she was awake.
“Thought you’d show up with quite a gang and start blinding everybody.”
She managed to say, it was a bit strange to speak for now, her throat felt dry.
Her statement made him swallow the lump in his throat to laugh, but he also felt like crying so everything got stuck and he couldn’t answer right away.
“I was about to if you didn’t wake up.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”
He took a step closer, his fingers touched the feet of her bed, she had a sheet on top to cover for modesty.
“Can I give you a hug?” He asked out of the blue.
It was so unlike him, but he felt if he didn’t touch her, he wouldn’t believe this was really happening. Before she could even nod, he welcomed her into his embrace. Carefully to not hurt her.
“I’m so fucking happy to see you.” He whispered, not fully believing it was happening.
“Hey, did you really think I’d give up so easily?” Y/N ran her hands all over his back. “I learned from the best.”
“Fucking finally.” Tommy couldn’t suppress the chuckle she provoked. “I’m so sorry.” Tommy cracked but Y/N shook her head.
“It wasn’t your fault, stop it.”
In response, Tommy could only hold her hand gently and kiss her knuckles.
“Tommy please, stop.” She pleaded nervously, breaking away the contact between them.
Now that she was awake how could he carry on hiding his feelings for her?
“I hope we’re able to continue the pending examinations and tests?” The doctor stood by the door, holding her record, but before they could tell him to walk in, Y/N let out a pained sigh, bending over her bump.
Tommy reacted immediately passing one of his arms over her shoulders, but feeling useless not knowing what to do.
“Take it easy Miss, deep breaths.”
Tommy gave him a shocked and offended look. “What do you mean deep breaths? Give her something!”
“Unfortunately due to her pregnancy she can’t take most of the medication, since we can’t take the bullet out yet…”
Tommy was fuming, how come they couldn’t do anything? Something?
“When will I be able to be discharged?” Y/N asked tentatively, leaning to her right felt much better.
“If your tests come out clean, you can go.”
That was a relief, partly because to Tommy it was another thing to worry about, Y/N needed protection and someone to be with her 24/7.
“That’s wonderful news.” Y/N’s mother stated from the door, ignoring Tommy she walked to be by her daughter side.
Things between them were still like a bumpy road, her parents basically ignored him and he decided to do the same for Y/N’s sake.
“I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed, there’s a lot of things to catch up on, but the most important thing right now is yours and the baby well-being.” He explained to Y/N.
“I can’t wait to have you back at home an-“ Y/N’s mother started to say, but her daughter’s look was charged with concern and confusion.
“Mother I’m not going back to the house…” She stated through gritted teeth.
“Don’t be ridiculous, where else could you possibly go?”
“My house.” Tommy answered bluntly, not giving it a second thought.
The doctor confirmed right there it was a tricky situation but his job was to cure people, not being in the middle of a family drama.
“I’d highly suggest for now to focus on the patient, you can figure out whatever you need to later on. She’ll need space because the following months will be hard until the birth, then we can take the bullet out.”
His firm statement laid above Tommy, Y/N and her mother like they were holding a fragile veil. Everyone trying to keep their side up while checking the others to prevent it from touching the floor.
“Now if you excuse me, I’ve to run some tests.”
Tommy caught the cue immediately, but Y/N’s mother didn’t move. “If you excuse me Mrs?”
She scoffed and gave the doctor an offended look before leaving the room.
“Sorry about that.”
“For what? I didn’t see anything.” He gave her a reassuring smile, helping Y/N relax for a moment at least.
Y/N heard a voice in the distance, but her eyes felt heavy. The pain expanded through her body like a wave back and forth. It was hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in but she didn’t want to complain, she was alive because of some miracle.
She just wanted to be alright for her baby, she couldn’t wait to hold the little bundle in her arms.
Slowly she opened her eyes and waited until they adjusted to the light of the room.
“Where you dreaming?” Her sister Lee Anne asked, her eyes full of curiosity.
“Yeah, I was rocking the baby to sleep.” Y/N replied, the image was so vivid. “Where’s everyone?”
“Grandma went to the house to have some rest, Mum is running some errands…” Lee Anne then looked to the door.
“What is it?”
Y/N knew her sister so well, there was something she wasn’t telling her.
“Mum had a disagreement with Tommy and asked him to stay away from you, then you woke up and I heard Mom and Dad arguing again about what will happen when you get discharged.”
Y/N tilted her head up, to the ceiling not wanting to get into that just yet. She could tell her Mum wanted her home again by the comments she had been making all day. Small hints here and there, making decisions about her life, about her child.
“But I don’t want you to worry.” Lee Anne quickly tried to explain.
“Let me guess, Dad is still against it.”
Her sister felt a rush of guilt take over, but she wanted Y/N to know what was happening.
“I’m just done, you know?” Y/N expressed tiredly.
And suddenly Y/N broke into tears, she was a crying mess. Feeling all over the place she couldn’t even name her feelings. The sudden memory of getting shot assaulted her, blood and shouting surrounded her, and when she saw Tommy’s face full of panic, the fear in his eyes was all she could see every time she closed her eyes.
The realization of what might have happened, if the bullet had hit her stomach or her heart…
“It’s alright.” Her sister tried to comfort her, but it wasn’t working.
She had been trying to be strong. But she was scared.
“What if they try to come again and finish what they started?” Y/N asked, her voice full of worry.
“I won’t let that happen.” Tommy’s voice filled the room, neither of them noticed he was standing close enough to hear Y/N’s words, so he took them by surprise.
“Tommy…” Y/N said his breathlessly, knowing him the way she did, she knew he felt guilty, she could see it in his eyes.
“Even if I’ve to stand outside your door all day and night, I promise you nothing bad will ever reach you again.”
Y/N nodded, trying to not break in front of him, her sister sneaked out quietly choosing to wait for her Mother in the waiting room.
“I’ve taken care of that already, they better no try to hurt y-”
Y/N froze as she processed his word. “Wait, what do you mean? What happened ?”
Tommy looked away, he desperately wanted to change the subject. “Nothing.”
Placing her hand on his arm, she made him look down at her. “Tommy, tell me what did you do.”
Suddenly his tie felt so tight.
How could he tell her he killed someone? He was trying to make his businesses legal, he wanted to make her feel proud of him.
Towering over her, Tommy cupped her cheek gently, giving her a look of adoration. “You’ve nothing to worry about, hmm?”
Staring into his eyes, she realized he wasn’t telling her something, but at the same time she could see the worry in his eyes… and something else she couldn’t name, but yet she felt familiar with.
“Listen, Y/N there’s something I need to tell you.”
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- Every step you take, I'll be watching you
part 1
A/N: Hello, I’m back with another part! Once again, i have no beta reader and i’m not a native english speaker so there might be some weird mistakes 😭 This chapter is mostly John’s past and his feelings about reader! I thought it was important to see things from his perspective, i hope you enjoy! Warnings: There are desriptions of murder, guns and war in this chapter (but that kinda comes with the territory). John might come off as a bit creepy but he's just a lonely guy :(( also parasocial relationship vibes
When John Price first died, he didn’t even realise what had happened until he heard his footman’s yell. Poor Kyle, seeing his captain with a bullet between his eyes must’ve been quite the traumatic experience.
Price wasn’t expecting the general to go this far but- well, he was playing with fire wasn’t he? Three years ago, in 1857, when the rebellion started, the queen sent out her best soldiers. John was included in the bunch. Loyal to the crown as he was, he rushed to battle, defending his country.
During his service, he got acquainted with three other men who were unfortunate enough (they wouldn’t agree with that statement) to be placed under his command. Simon Riley (a man so mysterious that one could even call him a ghost), John Mactavish (a Scottish warrior with a loud disposition) and Kyle Garrick (a young man looking to prove himself). The four of them bonded, ‘brothers in arms’ - that’s what Mactavish called them anyway.
Half a year into their service, a skirmish changed the trajectory of their lives forever. General Shepherd’s poor decision led to Johnny (“Aye, with the two of us, one of you’s bound to make a mistake callin’ us nae? Call me Johnny!”) getting heavily injured. ‘Two days’ the medics said, that’s how much the poor man had to live.
In the end, he spent two months in the nurse’s care.
By some miracle the bullet just grazed his skull. Captain John Price didn’t consider himself particularly hotheaded, better to be patient and make calculated choices than to end up with regrets or a bullet through his heart. He was raised to be obedient so even as a child John had great respect for and would never dare to deliberately disobey his superiors. This, however, was a step too far - even for him.
For the first time in his life, Price cut his strings and made his own choice.
When Johnny was cleared by the nurses, they did not join Shepherd back on the battlefield. Instead, John took his men and sailed back to Britain. All of them received a less-than-happy letter from the General but it was easy to ignore (at first) with how peaceful their life got.
Simon took on the role of the cook, his previous experience of being a butcher making him quite an extraordinary fit for the role. His dishes would make anyone salivate, they were always perfectly seasoned and prepared, Kyle would say that Simon makes meals fit for the queen.
Johnny became the Head Gardener, as the injury caused him too much trouble to do anything physically taxing. Everything man made was either too loud or too bright, so the peacefulness of nature was a great reprieve. So with the help of the Scot, the desolate and grey garden soon took on a new look, filled with lush greenery and colourful flowers.
With his need to please and earn praise, Kyle made a wonderful footman. He knew John’s schedule down to the smallest details, such as only taking his tea at 7:06 sharp or refusing to eat anything other than an English breakfast as his first meal of the day. He would accompany his lord on any outings, his handsome looks and open nature made it easy for him to strike up new connections or better deals.
Price would never admit it but he had grown quite fond of his men. He had accepted that he would never have a family back when he first joined the army (what woman would wish to live in constant uncertainty?) so when the boys came along, he felt as if he suddenly gained three sons he never would have expected to have. The once too-quiet-and-empty halls took on a life of their own and everywhere you went you’d hear Scottish yells or quiet grunts.
That happiness- it made him soft. Too soft, so much so that he failed to realise just how fucked he truly was. Turns out Shepherd wasn’t too happy with just sending them a few scolding words. No, the general was much too cruel to let them off easy.
The fog was heavy the morning It happened. When John lit his cigar by the window, he couldn’t see anything but grey for miles; Kyle knocked on his door and informed him that breakfast was served. The routine went as usual, thus it made the next thing that happened even more shocking.
When Price sat down at his desk ready to read the newspaper in peace, he was greeted by a gun at the back of his head.
“John.”
He recognised the voice immediately.
“General” Putting down the paper gently, he folded his hands on his lap. He heard the perpetrator behind him grip the gin tighter.
“You couldn’t have truly expected to get away with it- right?” Shepherd paused, as if contemplating what’s left to say. “You were better than this John.”
Price merely hummed, not willing to entertain the other man. “We both were”
“If you want to beg for your life, go ahead, I’ll gladly wait.”
Price let out an amused huff.
“Wouldn’t do me any good.”
The general stayed quiet and raised his gun higher; John heard a loud shot and then-
Silence.
-
His funeral was beautiful, his boys made sure of it. The only ones present were them but still, that was more than enough. The coffin was surrounded by flowers, John laughed about the fact that it was probably the first time he ever received any.
His first week as a ghost consisted of him following his men, making sure the estate was in good hands. They took their duties seriously, sometimes they even spoke to him as if he were there with them. He always replied but- well, no one ever heard him.
When the boys started getting older, he would try to make their lives easier. Move the cane closer to Johnny’s bed while he sleeps, rattling the cupboard to make sure Simon remembers to take his pills or even picking up items since Kyle can barely bend down with his bad back.
He knew they couldn’t see him but they still thanked him out loud every time. It’s as if they could feel his presence, as if they knew he was there, watching over them. His heart was happy and when their time came, he waited with bated breath for them to join him but-
They never did.
Price was left alone. His men moved on but he couldn’t seem to do the same; and with them gone, his purpose was lost too. He spent years occupying the empty home, thinking of a solution.
No one bought his home after the late soldiers departed from this world, he wondered whether that was because of who it belonged to or just because of the sorry state it was in after the boys died.
Years of lone walks and no one to talk with made John realise that being a ghost was plain lonely. He felt miserable wandering the empty halls and knowing that he might never see his close friends again made it even more difficult.
Losing track of time proved easy in such a desolate building. His only companions were bugs crawling on the walls and his own thoughts, he had no way of keeping up with the world. Not that he really wanted to, his time had been over for a long, long time.
Finally, after an unknown number of years, a man and his family joined him in his residence. He overheard that it was now 1939 and a second World War started (there was a first one?). John’s first instinct was to pack up and fight but- he wouldn’t be much help in his state. He could already imagine bullets passing straight through him and hitting some poor sod behind him.
John watched as the head of the family left for war, wishing it was him instead as the wife and son cried after him. The scene broke his heart and he knew that if he had gotten married and started a family, this is what it would have looked like. He knew he made the right choice to not start one back then, as he could never imagine himself leaving his hypothetical wife and child behind.
In the end, the man never came back. John was the sole man to witness the son grow up, start his own family and continue the legacy.
Time passed and before Price knew, he had witnessed generations live and die in his home. He didn’t know how much he missed the hustle and bustle in his home until it came back. The chains around his heart lightened their load when he heard the giggles of children and conversation in the kitchen.
Over the years, he tried to subtly signal his presence to the different residents of his home but all of them were met with fear or disbelief and so, he stopped. He would rather have the families be comfortable and unaware of him than be left alone again, his heart couldn’t take it.
The years passed, the world was slowly growing too unrecognisable for John. New inventions seemed to appear every day but he could still barely comprehend the existence of phones (and they were invented back in his time!).
The latest owner of his building was the lone descendant of the poor lad who never came back from war, a grumpy old man (who rivalled even John with his impressive moustache) that was convinced the house was haunted. He wasn’t wrong of course but John didn’t purposely make his presence known so it was curious that the elderly gentleman was sure of his existence.
He rarely visited because of that fact, causing the place to slowly grow into poor condition. Mold-covered walls and broken floorboards was an everyday sight now, which saddened Price greatly. Although the residence hadn’t been truly his for a long time, he was still the one that built it; and he would much rather see it fall into capable hands than to grow into disarray.
His silent fuming seemed to have been answered when a lone woman entered through the front door one day. Still young but too old to be the old man's grandchild, so who was she? Price was both curious and cautious, as the owner hadn’t visited for a while before her arrival.
The beginning of their relationship (if you could even call it that) was rocky, to say the least.
At first, John was convinced she was a squatter and was determined to run her out, scaring her by creaking the stairs and pushing objects off of tables and desks (he did however feel a smidge of guilt when something shattered in one of the boxes he nudged; he was taught to never disrespect women's belongings after all).
It was only after she bought the paint and tools, that he realized what was really happening. The poor girl had bought his home and was intending to renovate it back to its original state. Instantly his guilt skyrocketed to insane heights, never before had he felt this embarrassed for misjudging a person.
John had a new mission now: to help the wonderful lady as much as he can; starting with trying to assist her with her projects. What John didn't expect is the he seemed to fumble like a school boy with a crush. The woman was beautiful, with her lively eyes and quiet remarks. He particularly enjoyed her habit of talking to herself, it made him feel as if he was a part of this, as if he was real, at least to her.
His crush admiration caused him to become soft for her, evident in his inability to focus. When he tried to move the heavy paint can closer to the wall, he got his foot stuck in the handle and proceeded to fling the whole thing on the wall while trying to get it out- not his proudest moment, he admits. He was even more embarrassed when the lady seemed discouraged after seeing the mess.
After a few more tries which ended in disaster (lodging a stray pebble into the front window- plus a few others he'd rather not name), he decided that his attempts to help her were only making her life harder. He ceased his unhelpful ministrations and decided to observe her progress, silently encouraging her.
She made quick work of the place and before he knew it, the first floor turned into a cozy antique (well, modern to Price) store. John walked through the aisles of beautiful trinkets, they reminded him so much of his previous life and how it used to be.
He didn't realise it until now but he missed his past more than he thought; years of loneliness made him numb to just how good he had it and what he lost.
This quiet epiphany gave him food for thought, about how he didn't wish to be alone once more. Sure, the families filled the home but they didn’t truly care (or even know) about him. He wanted someone to acknowledge his presence, to treat him like a person and not a silent observer.
He wanted it to be her.
The woman who stumbled her way into the empty house and made it her own, she didn’t know it but it meant so much to him. Over the months of her getting used to the new environmet, he had grown fond of her quirky nature. He didn’t even know her name and yet, he knew exactly how she took her tea or how much time she spends on laundry since she doesn’t enjoy doing it.
He felt a bit guilty that she was unaware of his silent observation but his happiness outweighed that. Besides, he would apologise to her soon enough.
He won't- no, he can't take another hundred years of loneliness. He promised himself he wouldn't interfere with her affairs anymore but the urge is too strong. She wormed her way into his head and heart with her endearing determination and kind eyes. He knows she’d make a good friend.
He made his move a week later. The poor lady was tired after seven days of hard work ('That should be your husband's job Darlin’.’ he thought to himself) and decided to enjoy a nice hot shower. Now, John is nothing but a gentleman; sure, he might be entering a woman's bathroom but it's for a good cause! He’ll make it up to her anyway.
He had been selfless his whole life: serving his queen and putting his men's safety above his. His afterlife was the same, consisting of helping his home's tennants and being a quiet observer. He was done pretending to live in the past, living in the moment is all that matters to him now. His whole life he wanted to have a domestic life but his sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him commit to anything other than war.
John is tired; tired of being a leader, tired of being a mere trick of the eye and most importantly, tired of being alone.
He just hopes the kind woman will see it that way too, he thinks to himself as he writes on the fogged up mirror.
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#callofduty#captain john price#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#captain price x reader#captain price x you#cod#cod john price#john price x reader#cod x reader#cod x y/n#cod x you#john price imagine#john price
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die first
satoru gojo x anxious reader. angst with comfort. fluff. established relationship
The moonlight cascades throught the slightly ajarred window, and it softly shines on your shared bed. Summer air flows through the gaps, engulfing the space with much needed coolness from the heat. The sound of crickets filling the air with a sense of tranquility.
It was a beautiful night. Moon full, stars twinkling brightly. You should be asleep yet here you are with your knees to your chest, sitting against the window sill as you stared delicately at your lover sleeping, albeit a bit restlessly. Nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a adorable pout. Most likey due to the lack of your warm form in his arms.
Its makes you chuckle despite your melancholic state. How his body seems to instinctively search for yours despite its unconscious state. You gently ran your hands through his snow white hair, making his expression relax a little.
Your eyes made the mistake of catching the dark blindfold on the night stand making warms thoughts leave you as your mind once again raced to the harsh reality of the Jujutsu society.
19 days. 19 days without him. 19 days of you going over the every worse possible scenario. What if he never gets unsealed? What if he's hurt?
What if? What if? What if?
Even when you knew he was the strongest and your worries were completely groundless, yet you couldn't help but become irrational when it comes to your blue eyed idiot.
You always prided yourself in being logical and unflappable in the face of danger and uncanny circumstances. But apparently you were a different person when it comes to the matters of the heart.
Even as he sleeps there besides you, so solid and real. Some irrational part of you still thinks that he'll disappear if you blink. Is this what it means to love someone this intesely? Having to live with the knowledge that everyday they have the trigger to break you completely?
Your 3am thoughts are just filled with futures that you want to shield him from.
For instance that Jujutsu society that has always treated him as some sort of weapon, some sort of monster, you doubt they even see him as human. And it scares you to think about the levels they would go through to use him, justifying it to winning a battle with too much bloodshed to ever count as a victory.
And knowing Satoru, he'd likely play his role willingly. Oh so willing to lay down everything for this world, especially when he thinks you're gonna be safe in it. And you both love and hate that about him, his selflessness. Always thinking about others and never himself.
You've seen this happen too many times, you're heard the stories, youve seen the films and you didn't like the ending.
Strongs arms tugged you out of your reverie, as youre quickly pulled into a sturdy chest. He tightened his arms around you possessively, your head placed snugly in crook of his neck. His soft breathing indicates that he was still sleeping, body simply moving on reflex on what he needed.
And it takes everything in you to hold yourself back from fisting his shirt and crying into his neck. Cause if by some twist of cruel fate that this man is cursed to be taken away from you. You would kneel, pray and scream to every God out there to change the curse, that if one of you has to die, you hope you die first.
Suddenly, a thumb wipes a stray tear that you didn't even realize was lining your eyes. A low gravelly voice laced in sleep and confusion made you look up into low lidded eyes.
"What are you talking about, sweets?"
Your eyes widened, you didn't realize you had voiced that last thought outloud. Choosing not to answer, you quickly avoided his questioning gaze.
"I didn't mean to wake you up, Toru."
He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead telling you all was well. "I don't mind, pretty. Now tell me whats on your mind."
"I was just rambling nonsense. It was nothing important." You said, smiling sheepishly.
His cerulean eyes narrowed, clearly not believing your lame excuse. He maneuvers you to your back, hovering on top of you, caging you between his sinewy arms.
"I know somethings bothering you. I also wouldn't call talking about dying - nonsense."
You lips parted to say something before you dropped his gaze, ashamed that you gave in to such selfish thoughts.
You bite your lip. "I was just .. thinking."
"About what?"
"Just 3am thoughts, you know I have an overactive imagination." You try to keep your voice light and pleasant, erasing any underlying traces of sadness.
"Then why are you crying?"
His fingers gently grasp your chin to make you look at him. You're breath hitched the moment your eyes met his, shimmering sky blue eyes that somehow has stars twinkling in them, the moon light shining behind him making them look as if their glowing. His eyes were filled with concern and helpless adoration. "You can tell me anything, y'know that, right?"
You nod, facade breaking, "I know."
He grabs one of yours hands and kisses your palm before nuzzling his cheek into it. the sight making your heart clench, such a soft and tender gaze made solely for you. "Especially when your talking about death, though Id rather you don't think about getting hurt. The thought of you getting hurt makes me wanna die."
Though his voice was light, it had an underlying tone of seriousness. He had no idea that it wasnt your mortality that you pondered about the most.
You press your lips together, "Please dont,"
"Don't what?" he asks, tilting his head.
"Talk about you dying.."
His eyebrows raise, ready to start a debate that you were the one who started the topic, but he was cut short when he saw tears lining your eyes again, lips starting to tremble and breathing shaky.
"Oh, baby." He leaned back in his knees, pulling you him and placing you on his lap. Calloused thumbs wiped your tears away, but they seem to endlessly fall down with no sign of stopping.
"Shh, its okay, Im here." He hushed you gently as you practically sobbed and whimpered in his warm embrace. A hand sank into your hair, pulling you into his chest. The other rubbed smoothing circles on you back.
Somehow having him like this, so close, so sturdy and strong, so undeniably alive, tipped you over the edge, your hands fisting the shirt over his back.
You try speak, but the words stumble over each other, your voice still watery. "I just - Im scared - Im - Toruu, I don't dont wanna - your just -"
"Hey, its okay. You don't have to tell me right away. Just breathe, I got ya."
You nodded, as you try to bury yourself deeper into his chest. A little more, you thought , you let yourself be selfish just a little more.
When your sobs turned into small sniffles, Gojo pulled back to look at your tear stricken face. Even then, it amazes him how beautiful you look with puffy watery eyes and a cute red nose.
Warms hands clasped each side of your face, he kissed your wet cheeks before his thumbs caressed soothing circles on them, "Ready to talk to me, princess?"
You nodded sullenly, but you didn't know where to start, so blurted out the first thing that came into your head.
"I..I don't wanna learn how sl-sleep without you.."
Gojos eyes widened a fraction, "Baby, what do you-"
"I don't wanna wake up one night a realize that you're not there anymore!" You sniffled, voice still shaking," I don't wanna go around town trying new sweets on my own."
"You're not going to-"
"I don't wanna live my entire life learning how to live without you in it."
You're chest heaved as you blurted out the last sentence, crystalline tears once again lining your eyes as you desperately tried to stop them from falling.
Gojos eyes softened, heart aching from how utterly heartbroken you looked, like you already knew when he was gonna die. He hated seeing you like this, especially when it was because of him.
Still sitting on his lap, Gojo pressed a kiss on your nose before leaning his forehead against yours, his voice was unwavering and resolute, "And you'll never have to,"
"How can you be so sure?"
"Have some faith in me will ya?" He said, nuzzling your nose, the gesture offering some sort of comfort.
He pulled back, sky blue eyes meeting yours once again, filled with nothing but sincerity and unfiltered love, "From the moment I met you, you had me in the palm of your hand. Then and there I vowed to always protect you, your body, soul and your heart."
He nuzzled your hand with his cheek once more, unable to even spare a minute without your touch. "So believe me when I say that Im not going anywhere."
Your let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. His assurances making you visibly relax, as they temporarily silenced the negative voices at the back of your head, like he always did.
He always called you the light of his life, but in truth he was the light of your life. You hated it though, that you needed to once again burdened him with something so trivial when he was practically Atlas, carrying the world in his shoulders. You were stronger than this, you knew that and he knew that.
Regardless, he never once made you feel like your feelings were not valid, he was always so soft and patient with you, doting on you. God, you felt ridiculous.
"I know, Toru.. Im sorry." Your gaze focused on your fidgeting hands." I do believe in you, with everything in me. Its just that you being sealed and now the culling games, its made my anxious brain go haywire."
"Hey, don't apologise." He scolded softly, "You have every reason to feel anxious. Just tell me right away when you start feeling these things before you bubble over like this. "
You nodded like a scolded child which made chuckle a little.
"I like comforting you, baby -any reason to have you in my arms is a win- but I really don't want you to carry something this heavy alone."
"But, you already have the world on your shoulders, I do-"
"You are my world." He cuts you off, "Theres nothing else that matters to me as much as you do, you have to know that."
You feel your cheeks laced with dry tears heat up at his confession.
Slemder fingers tilted your chin up, "Promise you'll tell me next time?"
"I promise,Toru."
"Good girl." He praised, "Now come here."
He pulls you flushed against him once more, one hand on your back while the other gives soft pats on your head. "Feel better?"
You silently nodded.
A moment passed, the steady sound of Satorus heartbeat completely calming you down.
Next thing you know, you croaked out three words, words you've told him a hundred times but somehow this time felt more raw, more profound, and more devout than the last few times. Hoping maybe this time these three simple word can convey the magnitude of what you felt for him.
"I love you, Satoru."
At some point, you felt he like stopped breathing. His arms tightened around you, like you could disappear at any moment. Finally, he answered with a shaky gasp, voice filled with so much emotion, "..God, I love you. Not even the King of Curses himself can stop me from coming home to you."
-----
Epilogue :
You can basically feel Satoru pouting from where he was spooning you from behind.
"Whats wrong?"
His childish pout deepened, "Hmmpf, was sealed for 19 days and your girlfriend loses all faith in you."
"Toru...."
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#love#jjk fandom#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo saturo fanfiction#gojo saturo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#anime#jujutsu gojo#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen
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A loyal friend
Simon Riley x Fem!Reader x John Mactavish
Angst, NSFW, MDNI, abuse, mention of death, blood, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, violence, Simon is obsessive.
As you meticulously applied the final strokes of your makeup in the dimly lit bathroom, the silence was shattered by Simon's sudden entrance.
His eyes bore into you with an unsettling intensity, scanning your appearance with a poker-faced demeanor. Slowly turning to face him, you attempted to infuse your voice with a softness that belied the discomfort settling in the room. "Is something wrong?" you ventured, the words hanging in the uneasy stillness.
"Who are you going with again?"
"Just Sav and Amy," you responded, your reassurance attempting to puncture the atmosphere. These two friends were your sole companions for outings, a fact Simon was intimately acquainted with.
His nod of acknowledgment seemed to carry an unspoken weight as he reached for your phone, deftly swiping to the Life 360 app to ensure your location was meticulously tracked.
The device was returned to the counter with a quiet finality, and he exited the bathroom without uttering a word.
A deep breath failed to dispel the uneasy atmosphere as you completed your makeup. Opting for a short dress that walked the fine line between revealing and tasteful, you emerged into the living room.
There, Simon sat on the couch, his gaze fixated on you, a palpable tension lingering in the air as you confronted the unsettling scrutiny in his eyes.
"Wear something else." There was a coldness in his tone. Despite your attempt to brush it off with a smile, his indifference lingered like a ghost in the room. "I really like the way this dress looks," you insisted, hoping to salvage some control over your own choices.
"I don't care what you like. Change." he retorted with an unyielding firmness, extinguishing any flicker of defiance that might have ignited within you.
You walked back into the shadows of the bedroom and emerged in another short dress, this time a skin-tight, long-sleeved garment that hugged your curves without revealing much. It was a compromise you were willing to make.
Simon stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, a sentinel of control. "Text me when you get there, and keep your ringer on," he instructed, his words hanging in the air like an unspoken threat.
As you reached for the door handle, his hand curled lightly around your throat, pulling you closer. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, his words cutting through the silence, "You know I love you, right?"
Swallowing hard, you managed a strained smile. "Of course, sweetheart. I know that everything you do is because you care about me." His lips curled into a smile, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss on your lips before stepping aside, leaving a lingering unease in the wake of your departure.
You slid into the passenger seat of Amy's car, the quick drive to the club was filled with anticipation. Once there, you met up with Sav outside, and as a trio, you entered the vibrant venue.
Amy took your hand and guided you to the dance floor, where the pulsating beat of the music enveloped you. Swaying to the rhythm, you let the music carry you away, while sav danced energetically beside you, lost in the melody.
Meanwhile, across the bar, Johnny occupied a booth, a solitary figure taking measured sips of his drink. His gaze remained fixed on you, a genuine smile playing on his lips as he observed your joyous movements.
Memories of a once-close friendship flooded his mind, and he couldn't help but notice the distance that had grown between you since Simon entered the picture. Understanding the unspoken strain, Johnny harbored no resentment, patiently waiting for a reconnection.
As Johnny contemplated approaching you, his attention was diverted by something at the window. A car had parked in front of the club, and an uneasy feeling gripped him. Squinting, he moved to another booth for a clearer view. His eyes widened as he saw Simon in the driver's seat, staring at you through the large window.
For an hour, Simon remained stationed in the car, meticulously watching your every move. He scrutinized the drink in your hand and kept a vigilant eye on the men dancing around you.
Satisfied that you were indeed only with the girls, Simon eventually drove off. Seizing the opportunity, Johnny approached the bar, ordered two drinks, and walked to where you were seated.
He slid a drink toward you, and you glanced at it briefly before refocusing on the nachos in front of you. "I have a boyfriend," you stated matter-of-factly.
Johnny's laughter filled the air, and you turned abruptly, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh my god, Johnny?" A smile stretched across your face as you stood from the stool, wrapping your arms around him.
"How have you been? I know it's been a while since we last talked," he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice as he took the seat next to you.
"I've been good, you?"
"I've been good, just missing my best friend." The warmth in your smile faltered as you took a sip of your drink, turning back to him. "I'm sorry about that; Simon just gets overprotective sometimes."
"Overprotective or abusive?" Johnny's words hung heavy in the air, and shock rippled across your face. Blinking sporadically, you downed the shot in front of you before requesting another from the bartender. "What are you talking about?"
"Sav called me last week. She told me how she saw bruises on your neck and arms. You also haven't talked to me in nine months, and it coincidentally happened after you introduced me to Simon. I'm worried about you, y/n. Amy and Sav are worried about you too."
"He's just overprotective when it comes to other men, and he cares about me. Everything he does is out of love." Johnny gently grabbed your hand, and you flinched. His eyes bore into yours, filled with sadness. He had been your best friend for years, caring deeply for you, and seeing you with someone who didn't deserve you hurt him.
"People don't hurt the people they love." You opened your mouth to respond when the bartender arrived with your drink. After downing it quickly, you turned back to Johnny.
"I really don't want to talk about this. I just want to have a good time before I have to go back." Johnny sighed, scanning your features before getting up. Thinking he might be mad, you turned back around, staring into the empty glass. A tap on your shoulder surprised you, and you looked up at Johnny, who held his hand out.
"You coming or what?" His expression softened, and you smiled, taking his hand. Johnny led you to a spot on the dance floor, and slowly, he started moving to the rhythm of the music.
A warmth enveloped your body, and the effects of the drinks began to take hold. Giggling, you let yourself go, moving your hips to the beat of the music. Your arms felt weightless as you surrendered to the rhythm of the night.
As the music played on, the rhythm seemed to draw you and Johnny closer, an invisible force guiding your movements. Each song served as a magnetic pull, bringing you gradually nearer until you found yourself pressed against his chest, the sensuous beat dictating the sway of your bodies.
Your backside pressed against his front, the heat between you was palpable. Your head leaned back, laughter escaping your slightly parted lips, as you sensually moved your hips to the enticing melody.
Johnny's breath caught in his throat, captivated by the sight before him. Your face, flushed with the intoxication of the music and laughter, held a smile that seemed to light up the room.
Your hair, tousled from the rhythmic dance, framed your features, adding to the allure. Every detail of you became a focal point in his mesmerized gaze. In that moment, the world around him seemed to slow, allowing him to savor every nuance of your presence.
As he looked down at you, Johnny marveled at the unchanged beauty that had captivated him for years. The laughter, the movement, the unfiltered joy — it was all still there, and he found himself admiring every bit of it. Time became irrelevant as he marveled at the fact that you hadn't changed; you were still as beautiful as he remembered.
You shifted your body, and with a swipe of your hips at a different angle, you accidentally rubbed the head of Johnny dick with your ass. He quickly grabbed your hips and moved you away from him. You turned back confused and furrowed your brows.
"What's wrong? You don't want to dance anymore?"
He laughed and thanked the club for always being dark; he had nothing to hide his arousal, which was now making a tent in his pants. You took a step towards him, and he took a step back.
"No, I want to dance, I just really need to use the restroom," you giggled, taking another step toward Johnny. However, your enthusiasm was met with a stumble as your ankle wobbled beneath you. Quick to react, Johnny reached out and steadied you, his touch ensuring you didn't fall completely as laughter continued to bubble from your lips.
"I have to pee too; we can go together. I know where the bathrooms are." Johnny nodded in agreement, and you grabbed his hand, leading him through the pulsating crowd of dancing bodies.
Navigating through the vibrant atmosphere, you moved down a long hallway toward the restrooms. However, a sudden discomfort in your shoe made you abruptly stop, and Johnny, walking closely behind you, collided into your back.
You immediately felt it, and your eyes grew wide, you smiled and turned around, backing him behind a wall that kept you out of view from the main room. You dragged your hand over his arousal, and he flinched, grabbing your hand to prevent you from going further.
"Y/n, what are you doing?" You smiled up at him and rested your body against his. His breath hitched when he felt your breasts push against his chest.
"You're hard Johnny, I can help you. We can make each other feel good... Simon never makes me cum. I'm just a little fuck toy for him." You drunkenly laughed and stood up on your tippy toes, leaning toward his ear. Johnny tried to sink further back, but the wall kept him in place.
"I always have to use my fingers after he finishes. I know you could make me feel good Johnny." You grabbed his hand and started moving it towards your aching core.
His cock throbbed as the words sensually left your lips. He wanted nothing more than to cave in to his desire for you. Nothing more than to give you what you deserved, but he couldn't. Not like this, not when you were drunk and didn't know what you were saying or what you were getting yourself into. He pulled his hand out of your grasp and softly moved you away from him.
"Y/n, you're drunk. We need to get you home." Johnny's concerned words cut through the air, causing your once vibrant smile to fade. Resting your forehead on his chest, a moment of somber realization washed over you. "It should have been you. I should have picked you, not him."
His heart sank at your words, and he watched as you pulled away, disappearing into the bathroom. Doubt clouded his mind; was it just the alcohol talking, or did you really harbor feelings for him after all these years of friendship? It couldn't be true, he reasoned. You had always seen him as a best friend, nothing more.
You emerged from the restroom, finding Johnny waiting for you in the same spot you left him. "Can I have your phone real quick?" he asked, and you dug into your purse and handed it to him. "I'm going to download a fake app on your phone so you can text me."
You hummed in agreement, leaning against the wall for support as a gentle wobble overtook you. "He won't know; it'll look like a fitness app. We can text on there." The words hung in the air, a mix of the absurd and the desperate, as he sought a way to communicate without raising suspicion.
You stared up at him with heavy eyes. You scanned over his features and traced the outline of his toned body. The heat between your legs was aching for him.
For the past nine months, thoughts of Johnny had been pushed aside in the wake of the torment inflicted by Simon. The shift from love to obsession, then to abuse, consumed your mind, overshadowing any memories of the longing you once felt for Johnny.
However, now that you were in his presence again, a flood of emotions and desires surged through your body. It was a visceral reaction, reminiscent of the time when you and Johnny were best friends, before Simon entered the picture. The realization hit you like a wave of regret, cursing yourself mentally for letting Johnny slip through your fingers. Why hadn't you told him how you felt back then?
You wondered if he ever felt the same way.
"Did you ever-" you were Interrupted by a girl bumping into you as she exited the restroom, Johnny placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We should go; I'll ask Amy if she can take you home." You nodded in agreement and walked beside him. Outside, Johnny briefly stopped you by grabbing your hand. "Text me when you're safe, okay?"
"I will," you assured him with a smile, waving goodbye as you settled into the car and fastened your seatbelt. Fumbling with your house keys, you eventually unlocked the door. Upon entering, you found Simon on the couch, watching TV.
"You're home early," he remarked as you dropped your purse on the floor and approached him.
"I got pretty drunk and wanted to come home. I couldn't stop thinking about you." You straddled him and pressed your lips to his. Simon was surprised, to say the least. You were never one to initiate anything sexual, but when you started to grind your hips against him, he didn't complain. He would question you about your night out in the morning.
You wrapped your legs around him as he got up from the couch. Carrying you to the bedroom, he dropped you on the plush bed, and you started undressing yourself.
Normally wincing when he would push into you, he slid in with ease with how wet you were from your time with Johnny. He cursed to himself as his hips slammed against yours. He thrusted into you harder, fueling his own desire, not caring to please you in any way.
You winced before closing your eyes and letting your body relax when you pictured Johnny thrusting in and out of you. You let out a breathy moan as your core began to feel warm.
Pleasure radiated through your body as you gripped onto his shoulders, imagining it was Johnny who was the one grunting in your ear, the one who was pounding mercilessly into your wet cunt.
You groaned out as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. You were so close, you just needed a little more for your body to melt away into intense pleasure. However, like every time you and Simon ever did anything sexual, you were deeply disappointed when he pulled out of you and finished on your stomach.
He collapsed in bed next to you, and you sighed staring up at the ceiling. Within a few minutes he was asleep. The only thing you were grateful for was the fact that he was a heavy sleeper.
After you wiped his cum off your stomach with his t-shirt, you got up and walked to the living room, laying down on the couch and spreading your legs.
Your mind flashed back to when you were at the club, and your body remembered the way he felt. The moment he bumped into you and the way his hard length pressed against the curve of your ass. Your fingers slipped inside you, and you imagined it was Johnny.
Your mouth opened, and you let out a breathy whine as your fingers moved deep inside you and out again. You thrust in and out of you over and over as you wished it were Johnny's fingers filling you.
Your back arched as your other hand snaked down and rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves. You were close; you curled your fingers, and your breath caught in your throat. You groaned out Johnny's name as your orgasm radiated from your core throughout your body. Your body went limp on the couch as you caught your breath.
You walked over to your purse on the floor and pulled your phone out before returning to the couch. You opened the fitness app and texted Johnny.
"I'm home and safe for now.."
He responded immediately.
"What do you mean for now?"
"He'll question me tomorrow about my night out but I'll be fine."
"Okay, just don't hesitate to text me if something happens. I care about you a lot and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt." You smile as the message comes through.
"Okay... I had a lot of fun tonight."
"Me too, I miss being around you. I was happy to see you after so long." Your heart fluttered and you layed down on the couch as your fingers danced across the screen.
"We should hang out again. Amy's birthday is Friday, maybe you can meet us at the club again?"
"I'll be there."
"Cool, I'll see you then, I should get to bed before he notices I'm gone."
"Goodnight Y/n be safe.
"Goodnight Johnny."
You made your way back to the bedroom and crawled into bed. Simon tossed and turned toward you, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you close. The Grimm reality started to sink in as the seconds ticked by. As his hold on you became too tight for comfort.
You were never going to be free from being controlled by him. You always told yourself that it was just his way of showing how much he loved you. It was the only way to keep you sane.
You appreciated that your friends were trying to help you, even going so far as to get Johnny back in contact with you, but they wouldn't be able to do anything. No amount of help would get you away from Simon's grasp.
A heavy knot of dread settled in the pit of your stomach as you approached Simon, contemplating whether to ask him the dreaded question. Amy's birthday was in a few days, and they planned on meeting up at the same club you went to a few days ago.
His possessive nature and unwarranted jealousy made every request, every plea for a moment of independence, an internal struggle. In Simon's eyes, any desire for independence seemed like a veiled attempt to escape his grasp.
The fear of his explosive reactions loomed over you, casting a shadow on even the simplest things. Summoning the courage to breach the subject, you hesitated, the words sticking in your throat like shards of glass.
Each attempt to form the question felt like tiptoeing through a minefield, where any misstep could lead to a violent outburst. Simon is seated on the couch, and you approach cautiously.
"Hey, Simon?"
"What is it?"
"Um, well, you know it's Amy's birthday on Friday, and Sav and I were thinking of going out to celebrate with her." He narrows his eyes and diverts his gaze from the tv to you.
"And why would you want to do that?"
"It's just, you know, for Amy's birthday. We're friends, and I want to be there for her." He scoffs and you watch as his hand closes into a fist. You nervously shift your weight from one foot to the other.
"You're always finding reasons to go out. You trying to get away from me?"
"No, Simon, it's not like that. I just thought it would be nice to celebrate with them. It's Amy's birthday, after all"
"So, you'd rather spend time with them than with me? Is that it?" He stood up from the couch and walked in front of you. You swallowed nervously as you gazed up at him. You hesitate, carefully choosing your words.
"No, Simon, it's not about choosing. I just want to be there for Amy."
"You're always making excuses. I know what you're trying to do. You want to leave me!" He was now yelling at you and your voice began to tremble.
"No, Simon, that's not true. I just... I just want to go out with friends for a bit. It doesn't mean anything else." You started to back up and he walked over to the coffee table, grabbing a lamp and throwing it at you. You were too close to him to avoid it and it hit your nose.
"Look what you made me do!"
You collapsed to the floor holding your bloody nose as tears streamed down your face. Simon kneeled in front of you and pulled your hands away from your face.
"I'm so sorry baby, I don't know what came over me. I just get overprotective at times, you know I didn't mean it right?" You quickly nod your head as tears continued to stream down your face. He wraps his arms tightly around you as your body trembles against his.
"You better not be lying to me. I'll really make you regret wanting to go out if you are."
"I'm not, Simon. I just want to go out for Amy's birthday, that's all." he cupped your face in his hands and made you look up at him.
“You look so pretty like this, all teary-eyed and vulnerable for me.” he reaches up and wipes the blood trickling from your nose before kissing you.
The night had finally arrived, and as you finished getting ready, you quickly grabbed your purse. Making your way to the front door, you found Simon standing there, hand outstretched. Without a word, you handed him your phone, and he efficiently checked to ensure your location was on before returning the device to you.
"Be home before twelve." You threw your phone in your purse and nodded.
"I will."
You hopped into Sav's car, turning up the music while she pulled out of the driveway. Upon arrival, you left your purse in the backseat of her car as you hurried into the club. Your eyes eagerly scanned the crowd for Johnny, but he was nowhere in sight.
Unbeknownst to you, outside the club, Johnny sat in his car across the street, a silent observer of the familiar scene unfolding. His gaze followed Simon's arrival, mirroring the routine from the last time. Patiently, he lingered for an hour, watching you through the expansive glass windows, before finally deciding to leave.
As Simon's car pulled away and turned the corner, he swiftly exited his vehicle and made his way into the club. Inside, you were in the midst of dancing with Amy when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you smiled upon seeing Johnny. You wrapped your arms around him, teasing, "You're late."
"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to wear," he admitted with a sheepish grin. Your gaze dropped to his jacket which looked similar to yours, and you couldn't help but smile. "Trying to be like me?"
"Maybe," he responded with a playful twinkle in his eye, the familiarity of your banter sparking a sense of warmth and comfort in the crowded club.
Amy exchanged a knowing smile with Sav, and they leaned in to inform you that they were going to order some drinks. You nodded in acknowledgment and turned your attention to Johnny, the familiar beats of the music inviting you to dance.
Engrossed in the rhythm, you failed to notice that Amy and Sav hadn't returned. Unbeknownst to you, they were dancing on the other side of the club, intentionally giving you the space to be alone with Johnny. The vibrant lights and pulsating music created a cocoon around the two of you, as if the world beyond the dance floor ceased to exist.
You were lost in the music, and you turned around, your back against his chest. You grab his hands and place them on your hips as you sensually grind your hips against him. His grip on your hips tighten as you rub against him harder.
With each passing second, his arousal grows against the curve of your ass. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he shuddered out a breath, calling your name in a whisper. You turned around in his embrace, meeting his gaze as he held you.
"Yeah?"
His eyes moved from yours to your lips, a subtle intensity in the air. His gaze lingered on your lips for a few heartbeats before reconnecting with your eyes. Slowly, he leaned down, and you closed your eyes, anticipation building between you.
Before your lips could meet his, the deafening sound of gunshots echoed through the club, jolting both of you. Instinctively, you both ducked to the ground. You cursed to yourself assuming it was another driveby as it frequently happened at this club.
His hand found yours, and he led you to a nearby table. Chaos erupted as people rushed toward the front door, seeking an escape. However, Johnny took a different route, guiding you through the back.
Still tightly holding your hand, he led you across the street to his car. You looked back and saw Amy and Sav getting into their cars and you let out a sigh of relief. With swift movements, you strapped yourself in, and Johnny wasted no time driving away from the chaos left behind.
The distant sounds of sirens filled the night as he navigated the streets, ensuring a safe distance between you and the unsettling events at the club. The laughter lingered in the air, a shared relief after the adrenaline rush, as Johnny turned the corner, heading to his house just two minutes away.
You hopped out of the car, wrapping your jacket around you as he fumbled with his keys. Stepping into his house, the familiar scent greeted you, triggering a wave of nostalgia. You missed the comfort of his home, the familiarity of his presence.
Bagel, Johnny's German shepherd, emerged through the doggy door that led to the backyard. With his tail wagging in excitement, he approached you. Kneeling down, you embraced him, and he reciprocated with joy, showering your hand with affectionate licks.
"Hi Bagel, aw, you missed me? I missed you too," you cooed, standing up and giving him a reassuring pat on the head. Bagel, brimming with energy, dashed back into the backyard, prompting laughter from you and Johnny as you observed him running laps around the yard.
Your eyes were drawn to the shelves in his living room adorned with framed photos of the two of you together. A smile crept onto your face as you scanned over the memories captured in those pictures. Johnny's voice interrupted your thoughts, making you jump. You turned around to face him.
"It's been a while since you last came over," he remarked.
You looked down to your hands, a shy smile playing on your lips. "I know, I'm sorry."
His hand moved slowly to your cheek, preventing you from flinching. His fingers massaged the back of your neck, and his thumb softly traced against your cheek.
"Don't be sorry. I'm just glad we're together again. I missed you so much." The sincerity in his voice resonated in the warm atmosphere of the familiar space, as the weight of past regrets began to lift.
You gazed up at him and the way he was looking down at you made your insides burn and the familiar wetness began to pool between your legs. He closed the distance, taking a step toward you, as his other hand cupped your cheek.
A sigh escaped you as you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and familiarity of his hand against your skin. When you opened your eyes, your gaze dipped momentarily to his lips, the anticipation building before traveling back up to meet his eyes. Without hesitation, your lips met his.
He wasted no time in kissing you back. His lips moved against yours with a hunger, a deep yearning that mirrored the emotions that had been silently brewing between you for years.
He backs you against the wall and groans softly into the kiss as his hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and hollow. His touch was a blend of roughness and gentleness, a manifestation of raw passion that matched the intensity of the feelings you both had harbored for each other over the years.
The kiss became an expression of longing, a culmination of emotions that had been suppressed for too long, finding release in the heat of the moment. He lifts you and your legs immediately wrap around his torso, the movement causes your bodies to grind against each other, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.
He walks towards his bedroom and gently lays you on his bed and the both of you waste no time in ripping each other's clothes off, leaving them scattered across the floor. Your head meets his plush pillow, and his mouth moves from your lips to your neck.
"You don't know how long I've wanted this." You breathlessly mumble out as his lips connect with your neck.
"I'm yours y/n"
Your heart races in anticipation as he trails kisses down your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking lightly at your sensitive skin. His soft hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and ass before gripping them firmly.
His hand snakes down to your heat and teasingly plays with your folds before thrusting his fingers deep inside you. Your body shudders as his fingers penetrate you, filling you with a sense of fullness and pleasure.
You grip his shoulders tightly, arching your back in response. He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, finding your G-spot and pressing against it, causing you to moan even louder. His room is quickly filled with the sounds of your needy whines.
"Your so wet," he groans, his voice rough with lust.
Your body tenses as you feel his warm breath on your sensitive flesh. You grip the sheets beneath you as he begins to lap at your juices. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You can't help but moan loudly, your hips bucking against his face.
"Oh god Johnny" You feel the familiar warm sensation building up as he lightly sucks and flicks his tongue continuously over your clit. You gasp, your body tensing even more as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.
You tighten your grip on his hair, urging him to keep going. The pleasure is almost too much to bear. Your walls contract tightly around his fingers, and he quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue.
"Johnny I'm-" You can feel your muscles start to spasm uncontrollably, and then you're over the edge, crying out his name as you erupt in a wave of bliss. Your legs tremble and your moans echo throughout the room as you ride out your orgasm against his face.
Your breathing is ragged, and you can feel the warmth of your release coating his tongue. As the waves of pleasure subside, he pulls his mouth away from you, leaving you spent. You lean your head back against his pillow, catching your breath.
Johnny's lips find their way up your body. His warm breath fanning against your skin sends goosebumps over your body, and when his lips finally meet yours, you can't help but melt into the kiss.
You gasp feeling his cock rub against your sensitive clit. He shifts his hips, dragging his shaft teasingly over your entrance. With a deep groan, Johnny pushes himself against your wet opening, filling you up completely. You cry out in ecstasy as he buries himself to the hilt in one swift motion.
His thick cock stretches and fills you, claiming you as his own. Waves of intense pleasure ripple through your body, every nerve ending on fire. He begins to move, his hips pumping in a steady rhythm. A breathy groan escapes his lips as he moves inside you, his hand gripping your hip while the other cradles your cheek making sure your gaze never leaves his. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes through the room.
"Fuck y/n, you feel so good."
You cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside you, your walls pulsing and quivering around his cock. His hips pick up the pace, pounding into that spot that continues to push you towards the edge with each thrust. You feel the bed creaking under the force of his movements.
You watch as beads of sweat form on his forehead, his muscles tense and flex with each powerful stroke. You can feel the heat from his body, enveloping you in a sensual haze.
Your walls clench tightly around him, milking his cock as he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin fills the room, matching the erratic pace of your breathing. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal force. Your nails dig into his skin as he continues to drive you into his bed with each thrust of his hips into your wet needy cunt.
The tension builds inside you, threatening to explode. Just as you think you can't take anymore, he drives himself deeper and harder into you. His fingers move to your clit and rub small circles.
The sensation is overwhelming, and you scream out his name as your body is wracked by tremors and spasms. Your second orgasm consumes you from within as your walls clench tightly around him, milking his cock of every last drop of his essence.
As the last of your cries die away, he pulls out groaning, and pumps himself, wanting to release himself on your stomach. You quickly move in front of him and take his thick veiny cock in your hand. Milking him against your tongue, he whimpers when your lips close around his shaft, sucking every last drop of cum he had to offer.
You both collapse into bed, and his arms gently wrap around you, bringing you flush against him. You rest your head on his chest and gaze up at him as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and sighs.
“You know what this means right?” You slowly nod your head and prop yourself on your elbow.
“I’m not going back there Johnny. He’ll kill me.” He cups your face and leans in, kissing you softly before wrapping his arms around you and bringing your head back to his chest.
“We’ll go to the police tomorrow and you can tell them everything. You can get a restraining order or press charges. We’ll find a way to make sure he can’t get to you okay?” He combed his fingers through your hair and you nodded. As your mind was consumed with thoughts of Simon you eventually drifted off to sleep.
Simon checked the time on his phone, and it displayed 11:58; you still weren't home. Concern and frustration etched on his face, he glanced at your location, his eyes widening in disbelief as he discovered that you were no longer at the club.
He grabbed his keys and dialed your number, but his attempts to reach you went unanswered, each call sent to voicemail. Checking your location again, he noted that you hadn't been active on your phone since leaving the house.
Driven by a mix of worry and possessiveness, Simon got into his car, determined to find you. Following the coordinates on his phone, he arrived at the address where your phone was located.
He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell, unaware of Sav silently watching from behind the peephole. Her heart sank and she backed away from the door, hoping the creaking floorboards wouldn't betray her.
Minutes passed in tense silence before she heard footsteps and the familiar sound of a car door. Still on edge, she cautiously approached the front door, peeking through the peephole once more. To her relief, Simon was nowhere to be found, prompting a deep sigh of relief.
"Looking for me?" His voice sliced through the air, freezing her in place.
She didn't bother turning around, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. In a desperate attempt to secure her safety, she reached for the lock on the front door, but before she her fingers could reach the handle. Simon seized a fistful of her hair, dragging her back and throwing her to the floor.
Her attempts to get up were met with a swift kick from Simon, forcing her back down. The atmosphere shifted from tension to dread as Simon's anger erupted, and Sav found herself at his mercy.
"Where is she?"
Sav coughed, clutching her stomach as waves of pain radiated through her entire body. Despite the agony, she attempted to crawl away, but Simon seized a fistful of her hair, yanking her face toward him.
"Where is she?"
Sav defiantly spat in his face, uttering, "Fuck you."
Simon laughed before his knuckles collided with her jaw. Her body flew to the floor again and she groaned. He kicked her again and she cried out. "Just tell me where she is and I'll stop." His tone was cold and unforgiving but Sav wasn’t about to rat you out like that.
If he was doing all of this to her she couldn't even imagine what you would go through if he found you. She wiped the blood from her nose and tried to get up again but Simon wouldn't let her until she told him where you were.
"I wish y/n was as loyal as you."
This went on for two hours before she finally stopped moving. Simon caught his breath as he searched her house trying to find you but you were no where in sight. He found her phone and tried a few different passwords before walking over to her body. He had a difficult time trying to use her face to unlock her phone from how swollen it was. After a few tries he finally got it.
He immediately went to her messages with you and his hands began to shake as he read over them.
Thank you for inviting Johnny…
When we were dancing I felt him get hard…
God he was so big…
I’m so embarrassed Sav, I felt him up by the restrooms and told him to fuck me. I’m never drinking that much again…
His breathing became labored and he stood up, pacing back and forth as he went to her message with Johnny.
The information he found was enough to reveal that Johnny lived only two minutes away from the club. Fueled by a mixture of rage and determination, he tossed the phone to the ground and swiftly exited through the back door, retracing his steps.
Climbing into his car, Simon navigated his way to the club. Upon arrival, he fabricated a story, claiming that you had been abducted by a man from the club a few hours ago. The manager, concerned, allowed him access to the surveillance footage. Simon meticulously noted down the make and model of Johnny's car along with the license plate.
For the next three hours, fueled by a relentless obsession, Simon drove past every house within a two-minute radius of the club. Parking his car in the driveway next to Johnny's, he checked the time on his phone – it was now five am.
You awoke to the insistent sound of the doorbell, reluctantly stirring from your sleep. Groggily checking the time, it read five am. Puzzled by who could be at Johnny's house at such an early hour, you shook Johnny awake.
"I think someone's at the door."
Johnny, still half-asleep, dismissed it, saying, "It's probably just the neighbors complaining about Bagel again. They always do this; just ignore it. They go away eventually." The frantic barking of Bagel in the backyard seemed to support his explanation. You lay back down, attempting to close your eyes, but the persistent doorbell rang again.
Sighing, you decided it might be best to apologize to the neighbors and get back to sleep. Throwing on your underwear and Johnny's shirt from the night before, you made your way down the hallway. As you passed Bagel, you noticed him pushing frantically against his doggy door, which was locked. Frowning, you unlocked the door, opening it a crack.
Your eyes met Simon's smiling face, and in an instant, your heart sank, and your blood ran cold. Attempting to slam the door shut, Simon pushed against it with force, the edge slamming into your nose and sending you tumbling to the ground.
"JOH-" Your desperate attempt to call out for him was cut short when Simon straddled you, wrapping his hands around your neck and slamming your head against the tile floor. The back of your head burned as you gripped his hands. Your legs were moving frantically underneath him as you were desperate to breathe.
"You thought I wouldn't find you?" He slammed your head against the floor again, and your grip around his hands loosened. Your head began to spin, and your vision blurred.
"You can't fucking get away from me Y/n" He picked your head up again and slammed it against the hard floor. The hard thud echoed throughout the room, and your hands slipped from his grasp around your neck. Bagel had cracked the glass window after ramming into it, and his bark only became more frantic.
Johnny jolted from his sleep at the sound of Bagel. He had never heard him bark like this before. When he noticed you weren't in bed, his heart sank. He quickly got up and grabbed his boxers and sweats on the floor, frantically putting them on.
When he stepped out of his room into the hallway that led to the front door, his heart sank as he watched from a distance. Simon picked up your head and slammed it against the floor again.
Johnny's blood ran cold when he saw the pool of blood around your head and your limp body under his. He ran and tackled Simon off of you, punching him over and over again. Simon was bigger than Johnny, so he easily flipped him over and punched him.
Johnny did his best to block the blows, but they were starting to wear on his arms. He flinched when Simon punched his stomach.
Simon found his opening and wrapped his hands tightly around Johnny's neck. Bagel finally broke through the glass doggy door and ran to Simon, his mouth clamping down around his neck. He tugged against his flesh and tore into his neck. Simon fell back and held his neck as blood began to spill from the open wound.
The sounds of Simon choking on his own blood and Bagel fiercely tearing into his neck became distant echoes as Johnny rushed to your side.
His body spasmed as he attempted to breathe but as Bagel continued to tear into his neck his body eventually stopped moving.
Tears welled in his eyes as he grabbed your wrist, desperately checking for a pulse.
The blood flowing from your head seemed to intensify by the second. With great care, Johnny picked you up and sprinted to his car, leaving drops of blood behind as he moved.
Within seconds, he arrived at the hospital, rushing inside with you, a trail of blood marking his hurried path. A nurse attended to his own injuries while you were swiftly taken into surgery.
Johnny's nerves manifested in the bouncing of his leg, a restless rhythm born of anxiety. If you didn't make it, he knew he would bear the burden of blame for the rest of his life.
He should have known, should have heard you. Tears welled in his eyes as he took a seat in the waiting room, texting Amy and Sav, but only receiving a response from Amy. The waiting room became a somber space filled with tension and the weight of uncertainty. Hours dragged on as you remained in surgery.
Amy came to the hospital, attempting to provide comfort to Johnny, but she grew concerned about Sav's lack of response and left to check on her. Amy asked Johnny to inform her when you came out of surgery.
After a grueling ten hours, the doctor emerged and conveyed the news to Johnny that you were stabilized, and the surgery had gone well. A sigh of relief escaped him, but his joy was short-lived as the doctor explained that you would likely be in a coma due to your injury.
Johnny rushed to your room, where tears flowed freely at the sight of your head wrapped in bandages. He gently took your hand in his, overwhelmed with guilt.
"This is all my fault, y/n. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry I noticed so late. I'm sorry I locked Bagel outside. This is all my fault," His forehead rested against your hand. The door to your room opened, and Amy entered with tears in her eyes.
"She's dead."
Confused, Johnny glanced at you and then at the heart monitor. "What are you talking about?" Amy's eyes were wide as tears silently streamed down her face.
"Sav... She's dead." Johnny's eyes widened in shock as Amy walked into the room, taking a seat next to you.
“She gave me a spare key to her house…when I walked in, she was on the floor in front of the door. Her…her face was all…I didn’t even recognize her at first. Simon killed her.”
Overwhelmed by grief, she sobbed into her hands, and Johnny, grappling with the sudden loss, got up to comfort her.
“How long did she suffer?”
“Hey he can’t hurt her or anyone anymore okay? He’s gone and Sav is at peace.” He hugged Amy and she sobbed into his chest.
“The fact that she died the way she did probably means she didn’t give him what he wanted. She was loyal until the end, that’s something to be proud of.”
She nodded and took a deep breath as she wiped her tears. Amy didn't stay for long, needing time alone to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing down on her.
Johnny remained faithfully by your side for weeks, spending his evenings at the hospital after work and staying with you until visiting hours came to an end.
This routine persisted for ten long months until one afternoon, while Johnny dozed off in the chair beside you, your eyes fluttered open. Weakness washed over you, but you made an effort to turn your head, attempting a smile when you spotted Johnny beside you.
"Johnny," you whispered breathlessly, and he jolted awake. His eyes widened in disbelief as he leaned forward, frozen in the moment. A smile spread across your face, and he gently grabbed your hand.
"You're okay?" he asked, almost in disbelief, as if the reality of your awakening after such a prolonged period seemed too good to be true.
"Yeah," you laughed softly, and a wide grin illuminated his features. Slowly, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you, a cautious embrace to avoid causing any harm, even though your body had fully recovered a few months prior.
Johnny continued to stand by your side throughout your journey to recovery. He attended all your physical therapy sessions, driving you to appointments with your therapist. The road to recovery was long, but he promised to be there every step of the way, and true to his word, he kept that promise.
A few months after you were discharged from the hospital Johnny asked you out on a date. He spent the day driving you around town, taking you to breakfast, a walk in the park and even a pottery class where you made each other cute mugs. He finished off the night by taking you to a nice restaurant for dinner.
As the months passed you and Johnny went out on more dates, and eventually he officially asked you out when the time felt right.
You moved in with him shortly after, trying your best to move on with life and leave the past behind. However, there was something you had been meaning to do since your discharge from the hospital. Hand in hand, you and Johnny walked through the cemetery to Sav's grave. Tears welled in your eyes as you traced the words on her headstone.
A loving Daughter, Sister, and most loyal Friend.
You wiped away the tears, resting your hand on the stone. "I'm so sorry, Sav. I'm sorry for getting you involved, and I'm sorry you couldn't live the life you always dreamed of."
Placing a bouquet of flowers on the soft grass, you sat by her grave, sharing how you moved in with Johnny and how great he had been to you. Johnny smiled behind you, appreciating the way you spoke to her as if she were still there.
After an hour, you both went home and cooked dinner. Occasionally, you'd drop a few pieces of raw meat on the floor for Bagel, much to Johnny's amusement, teasing you that he wouldn't eat his dog food anymore. Sitting down at the dinner table, you both enjoyed the meal you cooked together.
That night, as you lay in bed with Johnny's head nestled in your neck, you gently combed your fingers through his hair as he peacefully slept. A smile graced your face as your other hand ran through Bagel's fur.
This was the life you had always dreamed of since childhood, the life you had imagined with the man you had been in love with for as long as you could remember. You smiled, closed your eyes, and silently thanked Sav for bringing Johnny back into your life.
10 years later….
Your little girl was skipping beside you, you held her left hand and Johnny held her right. The little bows in her hair plopped up and down as she jumped.
“Are we almost there?” She curiously asked.
Johnny smiled and squeezed her hand. “Almost sweetheart” with a few more steps you stopped and your daughter turned to where you were looking. Her eyes sparkled with joy.
“Mommy we have the same name!”
You smiled as you sat down, running your hands through the soft grass. “Your name is very special to me sweetheart, she was my best friend.” Your eyes danced across Sav’s headstone and your heart ached. Even as the years passed you missed her so much.
You felt Johnny's hand on your shoulder and you reached up, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What happened to her?”
“She died protecting me.” Sav took a seat next to you on the grass and picked the small dandelions in front of her. She started tying them together to make a little crown.
“I can protect you mommy. We have the same name so it will be like she never left.” You smile and tuck a strand of hair behind your daughter's ear. Johnny squeezed Sav’s little arms and she giggled. “You have big muscles too, you’ll be mommy’s strongest protector.”
“I have bigger muscles than you.” You both laughed at her comment. She carefully placed the small flower crown on the headstone and leaned her head against you.
You draped your arm around her, and together, you gazed off into the sunset. Reflecting on the journey that brought you to this point, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. Not a day went by that you didn't wake up and silently thanked Sav for everything she did – for reuniting you with the man who had once slipped through your fingers and for protecting you until her last breath.
#call of duty#cod#cod fanfic#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw3#cod x reader#writers#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#toxic relationship#abusiveboyfriend#smut#cod smut#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#soap call of duty#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap cod#soapghost#soap mw2#john mactavish#mw2#141#johnny mactavish#johnny soap mactavish
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. ﹙★﹚THE COLOR VIOLET. | 희승
PAIRING : heeseung x f.reader ➖ GENRE : angst, 80s au, high school au ➖ REQUESTED : no ➖ WARNINGS : lowercase intended, pet names, break-up, no happy ending, swearing, let me know if I missed anything! ➖ WC : 1.6K
SECTION SONG: the color violet by tory lanez
.˚ *꒰ঌ ✦ ໒꒱ * ˚. —
apologizing was hard, but accepting an apology you didn’t believe in also proved to be difficult. there were not enough fingers on your hands to count how many times heeseung had apologized for causing you trouble.
whether he wasn’t communicating or distancing himself randomly. but his biggest issue was keeping his promises.
that was definitely something he lacked in your relationship and it was getting old. he’d fill your head with all these fantasies, sweet talking you until it was time to actually act on what he’s saying.
you used to believe him, getting your hopes high when he would tell you things but disappointed when they wouldn’t come true. now, you wouldn’t even bat a lash at anything he was saying. cause in the end it would never happen.
you sat on the bleachers in the gym, watching everyone dance around with friends or their partner. your chin rested in your hand as you thought to yourself. staying at home with a cola in your hand and watching full house play on the television screen seemed like a much better idea. you wondered why you didn’t go with that choice rather than believing heeseung when he said he’d be joining you that night.
a few guys had gave you glances, showing that they were interested and some even came up to you, but you were in no mood to move around. and even though you planned to end things with heeseung, that didn’t mean your loyalty wouldn’t remain.
before you could let your eyes wander anywhere else, one of the large double doors of the gym flew open. your eyes widened as your boyfriend entered the building, hair and suit soaked from what you assumed was rain.
his eyes hurriedly scanned through the huge crowd of high schoolers, hoping to spot you somewhere on the dance floor.
your feet had began to move down the bleachers before you could even think about it. you scrambled to the drink section hoping that he didn’t catch sight of you.
a sudden feeling of anxiousness washed over you as you poured the red beverage into the matching cup. you gulped it down, trying to rid the dryness in your mouth.
a hand on the small of your back was the reason your drink almost came back up, the sound of your coughing was heard in the small area.
“woah, take it easy on the ‘punch’, maybe?”
there he stood in front of you now, showing off his intoxicating grin. you would’ve fell all the way into his arms if you didn’t have morals.
you avoided his gaze, staring down at the empty cup. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and say those words all at once.
“hey,” the tip of his finger came to lift your chin, doe eyes looking back into yours.
“you okay?”
you nodded, still looking up at him, feeling a bit vulnerable under his stare.
“c’mon.” he smiled again, starting to lead you toward the dance floor.
“no.” you pulled your hand away from his, remaining in your spot at the drink table.
heeseung looked at you once more, a concerned expression spreading over his features.
“what?”
“i can’t do this, heeseung.” you placed your cup to the side, finally bringing yourself to look at him.
“what.. what do you mean?”
he’d hoped you didn’t mean what he thought you meant but you did. everything that heeseung had put you through caused you anything but happiness.
“you know what i mean.” you sighed.
“baby, you don’t really mean it.” he gave you a half-hearted smile, his hand coming to caress the side of your face.
“as much as i’d hate to admit it, hee.. i do. i mean it.”
for a moment, there was only the sound of music blaring and people cheering around you. heeseung seemed like he couldn’t bring himself to say anything so you continued.
“to be honest with you, this relationship hasn’t brought me much happiness and i think that should change.” you removed his hand from your cheek as it came to rest at his side.
his body tensed up as your words seeped into his brain. this was the talk he knew that was coming but never wanted to hear.
“and i.. i just can’t continue like this, hee. not when you can’t even keep your promises.” you tried to be transparent with him but careful not to hurt him either.
“y/n, i’ll do better i-“
“will you, though? or is that just what you’ve told me the last couple of hundred times?” you tilted your head slightly.
“you know, i had to get a ride from jen and her boyfriend because you clearly forgot about tonight.” your hand came up, gesturing to his damp appearance.
he sighed, shaking his head, “look, baby, you know i didn’t mean to..”
“you never do, do you, hee?” you asked, rhetorically.
once again, he couldn’t answer to your words and could barely look you in the eye.
you took one more glance at him before walking off to another corner of the gym.
heeseung felt his eyes burning as he took the cup you were drinking from and took a sip from it.
after realizing he couldn’t stand being in the same place he had his heart broken in and with all the love songs playing, he took long strides toward the double doors he came in, now exiting through them.
the rain still came down like pellets on him as he struggled to find his dark tinted car.
he stumbled toward the door, unlocking it and sliding in the drivers seat. the engine started as the key entered the ignition and he pulled out of the school parking lot, already doing 90 in the rain.
heeseung wasn’t angry at you, per se. actually, he was quite frustrated with himself. he didn’t blame you for breaking up with him. it was his own fault that his heart got broken and that you couldn’t have the happiness that you deserved.
★ ★
milan’s note: LOL no joke this sucks ik.. i havent had the chance to write a longer fic in a while and this clearly shows but i wanted to try something new! first sentence prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting
TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz — message or comment to be added
#kairoot#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen angst#heeseung x yn#heeseung x you#enhypen heeseung#heeseung enhypen#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fic#enhypen ff#enhypen fanfiction#𝒮𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑,ℳ𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛 ⊹ ₊˚
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Out of Trauma Comes....
Fandom: Don't Breathe
Pairing: Norman Nordstrom x reader
Warnings: Child death, loss of limbs, ptsd struggles
Word Count: 4,076
Author's Note: I have fallen down the Stephan Lang rabbit hole. This is the first in a series of Norman one-shots. Reader does have a military background. This decision was based off of the relationship that Norman had with Hernandez in the second movie. Hope everyone likes! As always, not beta read, so mistakes are mine.
You woke with a start, gasping for breath that wouldn't seem to fill your lungs. For several agonizing seconds, it felt like it would never happen before finally, your body kickstarted itself. The silence of the room was only broken by the brief choking gasps of air as you tried to regulate your breathing. Then your ears registered the frantic beeping of a heart rate monitor. Your own. Forcing yourself to take a few slower breaths, it calmed down as you managed. Stiffness below reminded you that you were stuck in a hospital bed. Right. The accident.
With a grimace, you forced yourself into a seated position. The pain was a worthy distraction, taking your mind off the vivid flashbacks that played before your eyes. Like a bad horror movie that you couldn't pause.
A nurse came in, far more quickly than they had the past three weeks. Must have been fewer patients on the floor for them to monitor. When you had first arrived four weeks ago, despite your status, it had taken time for them to show up.
“Everything okay?” No, nothing was okay in the least about the entire situation. Swallowing down the words, you found yourself giving a shaky smile.
“Yeah, fine. Just a bad dream.” PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what it was. You knew well enough to recognize the signs after seeing some of your closest brothers go through the same thing. “Sorry, didn't mean to cause any worry.” She gave you a softer smile, one that felt like pity. You hated every second of it. Of all of this, if you were honest. You wanted to be back home, away from the world and everyone in it. Why should you have lived?
“Not a problem at all.” She checked over your IV line and monitor before moving to the door, taking her leave. But before she fully left, she looked over her shoulder. “From what I heard, you're getting out of here tomorrow.” There may not have been a God but that news could have brought you to belief.
“Thanks…for everything.”
*****
Using the crutches to get into your home, you grunted with the effort. The cracked ribs were healing and could bear the brunt of your weight with some protest and discomfort but you weren't hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary.
A chill ran down your spine and the urge to look at the street was almost overwhelming. But you knew what you would find there if you did. Just repeated flashes of blood, broken glass, and phantom pains. Unconsciously, your jaw had started to clench, something you only realize when you heard a small crack.
“Fuck.” The word bounced through the empty house. A slow sigh and you were moving to the staircase. Life now had a whole new set of obstacles and challenges. Ones that you couldn't have ever dreamed of if one were to ask you. Yet, here you were. “Don't have a fucking pity party now. Get your ass up the stairs so you can take a proper shower. Then, you can check on Norman.” it was the right thing to do. You had heard from your older neighbor just once in the entire time you had been in the hospital. Understandable, given the circumstances and what he had to be dealing with, but it didn't quell the drive to follow up. Having been a neighbor for the better part of five years now, you had grown close to Norman and Emma. Just the thought of the girl was enough to constrict your throat and threaten to have tears spilling from your eyes once more.
White knuckling the crutches, you slowly made your way up the stairs. It was both painstaking and painful but there was a small sense of accomplishment when you hit the top landing. One thing out of the way, many many more to come. No use in getting too excited over it all just yet. The shower was the next thing to tackle.
***********
Having only fallen once, the shower could be considered a success. Dressing wasn't as difficult as anticipated, the bed that you had easy to get on and off of with the wall right there that you could brace yourself against. Now, down the stairs? That was a whole other ballgame. Slow, very slowly, you worked down each step. It probably would have been easier to admit defeat and go down on your ass but that stubborness that often got you in trouble decided to rear it's head. This was life now so it wasn't like something that you wouldn't have to get used to. Might as well start that right now.
The shower made you feel a bit better. Something about being able to shower at home, in your own space, with your typical washes and shampoos just did something different than when you were stuck showering in a hospital. While you still were in tremendous discomfort that bordered on pain that was barely tolerable, you still felt better. Plus, being out of those hospital clothes just helped give a little mental boost.
Tossing a jacket over your shoulders, you opened the door with a slow breath. The street was quiet, just as it often was. There were so few left in this neighborhood, the stranglehold of the economic crisis squeezing life out of Detroit day by day. Those that remained were too headstrong to go more than anything else. You and the man across the street had that in common. Not the only thing. The memory that came of the first meeting had you wanting to laugh. It was either laugh or break out into tears because the bad came rushing hard. Shaking away the thoughts as if the physical action could dislodge and remove those mental images.
The walk across the street didn't take too long, though getting up his steps took a few moments. It seemed that Shadow knew of the presence on the porch before you could even knock. The bark that came from inside was excitement, something recognizable and in a way somewhat comforting. It was normal. Routine. Despite the fact that nothing about this would ever be the normal that you both once knew. There was no answer to the rap of knuckles against the wood. Not for a minute. Or five.
A part of you wondered if you should just leave him be. You had your own trauma from the entire thing but his loss was so much greater than your own. A leg compared to a child? No comparison. Still, something rolled in your gut at the thought of leaving Norman to his misery, grief, and pain. You had been alone in the hospital. Being alone and isolated was never good. So, that thought made you knock again and call out.
“Norman?” Your voice nearly cracked and you had to take a second to take in a breath. The situation called for composure. Letting your own emotions shine through wouldn't help the moment at all. “I'm sure you don't want to see anyone right now…” What words were supposed to be spoken for this sort of thing? Huffing out in frustration, you stared at the door.
“Can you please let me in? You don't have to talk. I know you aren't alright, I wouldn't expect you to be but seeing you would at least settle my own mind. Please?” Maybe appealing to that part of him would get the older man to agree. Another few moments passed, bringing about a sense of defeat. This wasn't something to barrel through, to hit head on like a bull in a china shop. If Norman didn't want to see anyone,you couldn't force your presence upon him. At least not with his house closed up like this. Just as you were getting ready to turn around, locks disengaging rang out and the door opened. Shadow's bark was significantly louder, the thump of his tail against the door frame audible.
He looked rough, like he hadn't been sleeping. Something that was relatable. More than that, it was in the way that he held himself. A man defeated had a certain posture after all. An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you stood there before the door opened a bit more and he stepped to the side, a silent signal to come inside. The crutches hopefully made enough noise for him to be able to keep his feet out of the way as you entered the home, as mindful of where you were placing them as you could be. The last thing that was needed was for you to cause a physical injury to the man.
“When did you get home?”
“Today.” A grunt was the response that you got and honestly, you hadn't expected much more. The house was dark, though it didn't matter much to Norman and you weren't going to say a damn thing. He led you to the kitchen, where he was having some coffee from the smell that lingered in the air.
“They have her in jail.” That perked your ears up as you eased yourself into the seat. Crutches were kept close by just in case quick movement was needed.
“Good.” Your voice had come out firmer than intended. But really, it was where the young woman deserved to be. She had killed someone, not just someone but a child. All because she had been stupid about drinking and driving. Frankly, at this rate, she shouldn't leave. Two lives permanently altered in ways that could never be repaired by one decision of a third party. Maybe it would have been just injuries to you and Emma if you had moved faster. Hurling your body in the way of the oncoming car in an attempt to get the girl out of the way or at least shield her to some degree had been an instant reaction. If only it would have worked.
Clearing your throat a little, you tried to shrug off the anger that had been growing in presence day after day for the last two weeks. “It's no less than deserved. The police hadn't been by to talk much to me besides that first week I was actually conscious. I've been a bit out of the loop on what is happening.” The idea of checking your phone had fallen to the wayside in the focus of getting ready to leave the hospital. He set a cup of coffee down in front of you without having asked. The warmth of the cup seeped into your chilled hands, causing you to close your eyes for just one moment.
“She'll rot in jail.” She better. But it wasn't like a trial was going to happen any time soon. Those things took time. An extended amount of time, with additional suffering to come for the both of you. Norman fell silent for a long while, staring off in that unseeing fashion of his, eyes seemingly focused just above your right shoulder. What more was there to say? “You're on crutches.” An observation without any real direction.
“Yep.”
“They wouldn't give you a prosthetic?”
“I opted not to get one right away. Getting out of there and home was more important to me. I have an appointment set up in two weeks with a physical therapist and someone who can fit me for one.” Your voice grew softer for just a second, obvious to the both of you. Was it self consciousness that caused it? A worry of bringing up something that would upset him?
“And your other injuries?” A wince that you were thankful could not see came before you could stop it. A feeling of guilt crawled the back of your throat, robbing you of your voice for a mere moment.
“Things that will heal with time. Some medicines for the rest of my life.” And the daily reminder that you just hadn't acted quick enough. Something that would haunt you every time you looked down and saw the empty space where your right left should have been. “All things that I can manage.” He hadn't said anything about himself, about how he was dealing. Poorly. There was no need to put a word to it but hearing it would at least lead in a direction of knowing what to do to help him. He was deflecting, though you had pleaded with him to let you in on the basis of not having him talk. Silently, you were able to reach out and carefully curl your fingers around his hand. For a brief moment, tension wracked you as the expectation of him pulling away reigned up. Instead, there was a slight tremble and he was curling his own fingers in response, squeezing her hand tightly.
*****
Daily trips over to Norman's became routine. It was good for the both of you, in all honesty. Getting out of the house instead of sulking around and wallowing, despite arguing that it wasn't a pity party, did you no good. And the same could be said for the older man. A familiar motion that helped dictate the day and forced the both of you to keep to a schedule. He was a little more open in talking about it, letting you know what the detectives had to say and where everyone was at with the case. You couldn't speak to the sinking feeling that rolled in your gut any time that it was discussed but it was shoved to the side and never mentioned. The man had enough stress.
He was good for forcing you to talk about where you were at with your physical therapy and the prosthetic. You had been fitted for it several weeks ago. Things weren't one size fits all. The molding process had been interesting, with a reassurance that it would be correct once it came in. And finally, after a long wait, it came in two days ago. You hadn't realized physical stress that just the therapy would have you going through, let alone the entire concept of learning to walk again. Because that was what it was. Relearning to walk. Balance would be all new, weight shifts entirely different, and movement to adjust to when it came to walking.
There had been an argument between yourself and your therapist that had left you stewing, in a rotten mood that was volatile at best. Norman had realized something was wrong when he ran into you while out walking Shadow. Shadow, as always, let out that excited bark and his tail started going a mile a minute. It was not acknowledged on your end and the silence was clearly enough of a tip off for him.
“Did it go that poorly today?” You jumped, startled by the comment, and the fact that he had engaged when you hadn't said a damn thing. A huff was the only response he got for a long moment.
“I ended up in an argument with my therapist.” The words were a little sullen. Not typical at all. He waited patiently, not saying anything else, forcing you to elaborate. Pulling the information out of you without being too forceful but with the knowledge that he could be as stubborn as you. “They wanted to keep the prosthetic there until I properly learned to walk….” The words caught for a moment, not wanting to admit to struggling with it. Everything about the weight distribution felt wrong to your body.
“I wanted to be able to bring it home so that I can work at my own pace, without all those eyes on me.” He hummed for a moment, not saying anything else right away, mulling over the information as his hands folded over top of his cane.
“They let you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you sitting here?”
“What?”
“If they let you bring it home, why are you sitting here and not walking?” The words that your therapist had said rang around your head. Coupled with the frustration over the entire situation, you had opted to sit and stew in the anger. It was easier. Mentally and physically. Still, Norman was right. And if there was one person in the world that you couldn't argue with right now, it had to be Norman. That sight less gaze seemed to settle on you, his head ever so slightly tilted, listening for your reaction. You knew the signs well enough by now. “Get your things and come over.” Now, that was entirely unexpected. Realizing that he was serious, you pulled yourself up and moved to grab everything into a bag.
*******
Norman knew his house intimately, which is the reason why he chose to do it in his space rather than yours. Every uneven floor board that would cause a balance shift, which wall would easily be reached as a brace if falling down. And how to move easily through the space, forcing you to move after him. Like a game of chase. An annoying game of chase.
But there seemed to be a method to his madness as you were starting to get the hang of movement. It wasn't just walking in a straight line. No, this was actual movement, natural in hoe you would operate day to day. There were plenty of stumbles, sending you crashing down to the hard wooden floor. But the gruff responses demanded that you get back to your feet.
Exhaustion began to tug at the edges of your consciousness. Muscles ached and protested each movement as they strained further and further under unfamiliar stress. The stumbles became more common and that sense of anger came rushing back, but along with it an embarrassment that you weren't picking up as fast as you wanted. That you were looking like a fool in front of Norman.
He had demanded that you attempt the stairs. Well, more like a suggestion without room for any argument. It took effort to even think at this point how to shift your weight and the movement needed to swing your leg. Norman was close this time, closer than he had been while moving throughout the house. A brace of sorts, just in case there ended up being a tumble down the stairs.
The first step was managed well enough, the second with a little more difficulty but by the third, your body had decided that it had enough. Thankfully, you want tumbling forward instead of backwards into Norman. Your fingers scrapped against the wood of the stairs, a shaky breath taken as your throat constricted for a moment.
“I think that's enough for today. Come on, let's get you resting.” The raspy, grizzled voice of the older man was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality at this point; grounding you in a way that let the desire to scream, to cry, to throw things fade into the background. You were tired, hurt, and angry. But the warm hands against your hips helped to guide you back to a standing position. “Think you can get back down? Or do you want the crutches?”
“Might as well try.” The stairs were narrow, so Norman couldn't stand beside you. But, he stayed in front of you despite the risk of being toppled into, hands remaining against your hips to help act as an extra brace. The stabilization actually helped as you managed to get down the two steps, nearly sagging into the wall to your left. The older man had the audacity to chuckle. You wanted to be upset about it but found that you didn't have it in you.
“We will work more tomorrow.”
“Norman, you don't have to…”
“I'll stop by after my morning walk with Shadow.” You knew the routine well enough after all. When the man had his mind made up, he was all but impossible to deter. It was in that moment that you realized his hands were still pressed against you. A fact that you hardly minded. They weren't moving and neither was he as he was still crowded close. The presence was both exciting and comforting. You would be a liar if you said that he hadn't felt attraction to the man, had since you had first met. But it had never seemed appropriate.
“Okay.” Again, it was an argument that wasn't going to be winnable. His mind was set. This close, you could see the way that his lips seemed to twitch upward, the hints of a smile present. And in response, you found yourself mirroring the expression. “I'll be ready.”
“Good.” With that confirmation, he pulled you away from the wall, as if you were nothing more than a feather in his grasp, one arm sliding around your waist to help you keep your balance. “You can take it off on the couch. Do you need to do anything with it now?”
“Gotta make sure I don't have any blisters, pressure patches, or breakdowns in the skin.” That was easy enough to focus on, even as the warmth of his body beside yours was making it difficult to focus. “I'll clean up when I get home and use the cream that they gave me.” He helped you get settled down on the couch.
“Can I?” His hands moved forward before hesitating. You hadn't had anyone besides the doctors and nurses touch the area. You hated having to do it yourself. But, as he waited for permission, you found that you couldn't deny the request.
Carefully, you took his hands and guided them to the prosthesis. Norman moved his hands slowly over the entire thing, kneeling beside the couch to be able to trail them down to the foot before back up, all the way up to your thigh.
“They did a good job.” Again, the touch lingered. For a second, you swore he could hear your heart racing, the almost unsteady beat loud in your ear. The moment was far more intimate than it had a right to be. Were you reading into it too much? Maybe. Norman hadn't exactly shown all that much interest in anything more than the steady friendship that had formed between the two of you.
“Yeah.” Finally, he pulled away and inched up to settle onto the couch beside you. The entire world felt off kilter, in an entirely new way. “Yeah, it's supposed to ultimately function better than some of the older models. I didn't exactly understand the technical stuff on how the knee hinge works but I know it cost the VA a pretty penny.”
Carefully, the process of removing it was begun. The movements were still a little foreign to you but something you were getting the hang of; eventually they had said you would be able to do it in your sleep. Norman's fingers wrapped around your forearm, squeezing lightly. Actions paused immediately, you glanced towards him, trying to determine what the touch was for.
“Give yourself a second.” You didn't understand what he meant. “You're shaking. And I can hear the little noises of pain.” You hadn't realized that you were even making noise, and now that he had pointed it out, you could feel the tremors in your hands and arms. He had noticed it all before it had registered.
After a few moments, the process was finished and you tucked the prosthetic in the bag, along with the sock. The skin was a little red and there were some indentations along the pressure points but overall, nothing looked worrisome or terrible. Thankfully.
“Better?” A rush of gratitude welled up. Shadow nudged your hand on the other side and in that moment, you realized that just as you hadn't wanted Norman alone, you weren't either. Swallowing hard to push back the emotion and chalking it up to the exhaustion that you were feeling, it took a second to respond.
“Yeah, better. Thanks, Norman.” Unable to help it, you found yourself leaning into him just a bit as you scratched Shadow behind the ear. It didn't feel like it was too much or stepping over the line after the way that Norman had been close before. Hopefully, that wasn't too bold an assumption. For a second, it may have been when he seemed to tense before you could feel him relax. The final reassurance was when his arm curled around your shoulders, an unfamiliar but incredibly comforting weight that brought a smile to your face.
#slasher writing#horror writing#slasher x reader#slasher x you#norman nordstrom x reader#norman nordstrom x you#norman nordstrom#don't breathe#don't breathe fic#the blind man x reader#the blind man x you#stephen lang characters
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Can u do a Jenna Ortega x Male reader singer (Maybe music from Frank ocean or Tyler?🤷🏾♂️)
ivy
Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader
Warning/s ; angsty
Note ; hello everyone since i'm getting a lot of requests lately, i just want to clear to you that i'm slowing down the updates first since i can't think that many of the scenarios i'm mostly receiving smut requests and i'm having a hard time to write some so i hope you understand. please don't rush me with your requests I'll update as soon as possible if i have plenty of time to write tysm!
The city lights of Los Angeles twinkled below as Jenna Ortega stood on the balcony of her apartment, the cool night air doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. Inside, Y/N paced back and forth, frustration etched on his face. They had been arguing for what felt like hours, their once warm and loving home now filled with tension.
“Jenna, you know I have to go on tour. This is my career we’re talking about!” Y/N’s voice was strained, his hands running through his hair in exasperation.
“And what about us?” Jenna shot back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re always on the road, always busy. When do we get time for us?”
Y/N stopped pacing and faced her, his expression softening for a moment. “I love you, Jenna. But I can’t just give up on my dreams. You knew this was part of the deal when we started dating.”
Jenna’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. “I know, but it feels like I’m losing you to your career. We barely see each other anymore.”
Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m trying, Jenna. But it’s hard to balance everything.”
She pulled away, shaking her head. “Maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe we’re just too different.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Y/N’s face fell, and he knew deep down that she was right. They had grown apart, their lives pulling them in different directions. The realization was painful, but it was the truth.
“Is this it, then?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jenna looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I think it has to be. For both our sakes.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable. He walked past her, pausing at the door. “I’ll always love you, Jenna. But maybe we need to let go to find ourselves again.”
Jenna closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love you too, Y/N. Goodbye.”
With that, he left, closing the door softly behind him. Jenna sank to the floor, her heart breaking as the reality of their breakup set in. The apartment felt emptier than ever, the echoes of their love lingering like ghosts.
Months passed, and life moved on. Jenna threw herself into her work, trying to fill the void Y/N had left. But no matter how busy she kept herself, she couldn’t escape the memories of their time together. She missed him terribly, but she knew they had made the right decision.
One night, while scrolling through her phone, Jenna came across a notification for Y/N’s upcoming concert. Despite everything, she couldn’t resist tuning in. The livestream showed a packed venue, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Y/N took the stage.
“Good evening, everyone,” Y/N’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Tonight, I have something special to share with you. This is a new song I wrote called ‘Ivy.’ It’s about someone who was very important to me, someone I loved deeply.”
Jenna’s heart clenched as she listened. She knew this song was about their relationship, about the love and heartbreak they had experienced. Y/N began to play, the soft, haunting melody filling the room. His voice, rich and emotional, carried the weight of their shared history.
I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me the start of nothing, I had no chance to prepare I couldn’t see you coming…
Flashback
It had been a particularly difficult day on set for Jenna. She was exhausted, emotionally drained from the intense scenes she’d filmed. She came home hoping to find solace in Y/N’s arms, but he was busy with his own work, preparing for his upcoming tour.
“Y/N, I really need to talk to you,” Jenna said, her voice weary as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
He looked up from his laptop, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Jenna?”
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming. I feel like I’m constantly juggling my career and our relationship, and I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job at either.”
Y/N got up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “I know it’s hard, Jenna. But we’re in this together. We’ll figure it out.”
Jenna buried her face in his chest, trying to draw strength from his presence. But even as he held her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that had been creeping in. “Do you really believe that? Because sometimes it feels like we’re drifting apart.”
He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. “Jenna, I love you. But we both have demanding careers. We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
Flashback ended
Jenna found herself back in her apartment, tears streaming down her face. The song continued, Y/N’s voice filled with raw emotion as he sang about the love they had lost:
We’ll never be those kids again the streetlights in the middle of your back I wish I could go back to when I was just a boy staring at my bedroom ceiling
The chorus hit harder, a reminder of the love they had shared and lost. Jenna’s tears flowed freely, the song cutting deep into her soul.
Ivy’s in my life until the end of time it's part of the plan to just keep me by your side
The audience was captivated, many moved to tears by the raw vulnerability of the performance. Y/N poured his heart out, every word a testament to the love he had lost.
As the song ended, Y/N looked out into the crowd, his expression a mix of sadness and acceptance. “Thank you,” he said, his voice trembling. “This song means a lot to me, and I’m grateful to have been able to share it with you tonight.”
Jenna closed her laptop, her heart heavy yet oddly at peace. She knew that both she and Y/N would always carry a piece of each other, no matter where life took them. Their love story, though brief, had left an indelible mark on their souls.
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x male reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega fanfic#jenna ortega x reader#dailywomen#imagine#fanfic#one shot
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Josh Futturman (Future Man, 2017, TV Show) - Headcanons
Description: [18+ MDNI] AU where the reader experiences the show's events with Tiger, Wolf, and Josh. This takes place at the end/after the show where you and Josh live together as a couple. / Josh Futturman x GN!Reader
General Notes: Established Relationship, Reader Show Insert, Slight Spoilers For The Ending Of Future Man, Gender Neutral Reader, Romantic Headcanons, Sexual Headcanons Mixed In, No Use Of Y/N, Slight Cursing
Author's Note: Needed to do some headcanons to fill the JHutch void on Tumblr right now, and to get myself back into writing actual fics lol. Also, I can't believe this is only the second thing I've done for my baby boy, Futturman. I love him so much. Hope y'all enjoy! <3
Word Count/Bullet Point Count: 523 Words/30 Bullet Points
You and Josh road trip from Iowa back to California soon after stopping the existence of time travel
You find yourselves doing odd jobs to keep yourself afloat, Josh often doing cleaning jobs
Y'all find a dingy little apartment on the outskirts of L.A.
Despite the smallness of the shitty apartment, you and Josh declared that you didn't need that much anyway, as long as you had each other
Josh definitely gets back into gaming once you come to terms with being stuck in the 2000s
He particularly enjoys Street Fighter EX3 and Tekken Tag Tournament on the PS2 (until Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy 10 come out in the next few years)
You also acquire a Gamecube system once it comes out the next year
You liked playing Pikmin and Mario Kart: Double Dash together (you always played as Luigi to spite him)
You both also try to get into taking care of small plants
There's a lot of dead plants on your kitchen windowsill
Though, Josh has the first flower you ever grew together pressed and hung in your bedroom
After everything that happened, Josh is pretty clingy
When you wake up in the morning, Josh does not leave your side
Whether you're making breakfast, coffee, or just trying to get ready, Josh is practically attached to your hip
He gets especially clingy at night when you two make dinner together and watch a movie y'all rented from Blockbuster
He likes to cuddle A LOT, which can often lead to some more intimate activities
After the events at Haven, Josh was a little nervous about sparking any private moments between you two
But, after the first time together, he quickly got over it
He was worried he would hurt you at first too, but the things you went through in the past few "however-much-time-has-passed", you showed that you can take a little pain
He loves how good you take him, as if you two were made for each other
Unless Josh gets pissed for some reason, he is a definite sub
His favorite position is having you on top in any way, shape, or form
Josh is a sucker for pleasuring his partner, first and foremost, to where he can nearly get himself off just thinking about it
Besides being sexually intimate, you both just love physical contact in general
Josh loves taking you out on little dates, taking you to his favorite places in L.A. (sometimes forgetting what year it is and finding out that place doesn't exist yet)
Josh especially loves taking you to Little Tokyo and the Arts District
Josh also loves when music he enjoys is released and he can finally listen to it again (instead of humming it to himself in the shower)
Same goes for films, he really enjoys being able to go to the theaters to experience it for the "first time" with other people. especially the Marvel movies later on
When Josh observed his parents for the first time, he cried
The last time Josh visited his parents, you took him away with the promise of a picnic in the park before his dad could say anything to him
Masterlist Link
Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr
Gif: marlosrph on tumblr
#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson x reader#josh futturman#josh futturman x reader#josh futturman x gn!reader#josh futturman headcanons#headcanons#josh futturman smut#josh futturman future man#future man#future man 2017#smut#reader insert#x reader#katykat235#g0ry0re0
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flowers for an aching heart
✧ notes: day 2 of my "autumn remedies" event! if you liked this fic, consider reblogging and commenting! here's some useful information on how to recognize abusive behaviors in relationships. stay safe y'all!
✧ synopsis: gepard learns of your abusive past relationship and promises to always treat you with consideration and care. 1.8k words
✧ now playing: pink medley — kurt hugo schneider
✧ warnings: mentions of past abusive relationship, aftermath of emotional abuse
To Gepard, you were the most beautiful flower he had ever laid eyes upon. He'd smile at you when you weren't looking, just watching you idly go about your day beside him while asking himself how he had managed to end up with you. He felt lucky that he was privy to your love. After all, through the hardly intelligible stammering and blushing when he had asked you out for the first time, the chance had been there for you to just not understand what he was trying to convey to you. You had told him once that the bouquet of flowers he brought to you that day was pretty much the tell-tale sign that he was attempting to ask you out. Now that he got your affection and love everyday, he hardly remembered what it was he was so worried about. Although, that didn't stop him from getting flustered about it anyway.
At first Gepard had thought that you were shy, just as he was. But as more time passed with him being your partner, he found that that didn't quite fit the bill. You always seemed cautious, as if walking on a tightrope around him. He didn't know what to do to make you realize that he'd always be there to catch you when you fell. You chose your words carefully; always checked back with him whether there had been something you said that had upset him. He just shook his head. "I would tell you if there was anything, promise", he had reassured you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
To you, the love that Gepard gave was anything but self-evident. You've known love that was selfish and exploitative. Escalation and affection that spun an endless cycle, sucking you dry of emotion like a vampire who'd leave you to bleed after they had gotten their fill. You knew now that what you had experienced was but an abstracted distortion of the concept of love and you knew in your heart that Gepard was different. But unlearning that was hard. You tried your best to trust him and you only really noticed you had been tiptoeing around his reactions again when he seemed a little lost about your overly cautious nature.
Probably even more than he did, you too yearned for a love that didn't leave you on edge and you knew that being with Gepard was a step into that direction. He was kind and considerate. He'd always make sure you were alright; would check that you weren't too cold or uncomfortable or overworking yourself. You knew, rationally, judging from everything you had learnt about him, that he didn't expect anything in return; that your love wasn't currency for your freedom and safety. But you supposed that was simply part of the journey. Knowledge needed time to arrive in the mind of the individual and often even longer to settle in their hearts. You'd get there in time. You just hoped he hadn't enough of you by that point.
You knew Gepard was a patient man. Perhaps an amount of patient that astounded you and left you to wonder whether it was just your warped perception; an ideal of him that you conjured up in your mind. You were used to the world around you burning; always a little bit. Sometimes sparks would quietly rise from the wreckage; other times you had been caught in the eye of an inferno. But now that the fire was out; what was there ahead? Where should you start in this unfamiliar world?
You were so lost in your thoughts that Gepard's voice behind you caught you off-guard and you promptly dropped the flower pot that you had been holding. It was a rare seed that hadn't been seen in Belobog for 700 years during the Eternal Freeze. The plant had recently been imported by IPC merchants, but it was still quite hard to get one's hand on. The shattering sound echoed through your ears right into your head and you felt your heartbeat quicken. You remembered how excited Gepard had been about obtaining this plant. It had been growing steadily for about 3 months now and he had been really proud of how it turned out.
You made a mistake. The scars on your soul told you that mistakes would rekindle the fire; reignite the pain. It was why you were careful; why you'd tread lightly wherever you went. The world was burning again in this moment and at the same time the eternal cold was creeping up your skin, leaving you to shiver and freeze, only waiting for what would come next.
Gepard turned his head to you from across his small greenhouse abruptly, alarmed at the sound. He looked a little disappointed about the broken plant but the feeling immediately faded when he noticed the tears in your eyes which you yourself hadn't even realized were there. Gepard put the flower he was holding down gently and made his way over to you. With each step he took, you grew more afraid of his reaction. But instead of getting mad, instead of blowing up like a ticking time bomb, the man you loved simply took off his comically oversized gardening gloves so he could cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away with his thumb. His delicate touch and the honest and loving look he gave you felt like it was about to burn your skin, yet it felt soothing.
"Hey... don't cry", he whispered quietly and pressed gentle kisses to your skin. First the tip of your nose, then your cheek; until his lips eventually met yours in a sweet kiss. Your lips trembled under his and you felt relief wash over you. And yet, somehow that made you cry more. It felt a little embarrassing, even though that was far from how your boyfriend saw you.
"What's wrong?", he asked, feeling a little lost on what to do. He sat down on the floor of the greenhouse and opened his arms to you. "Come here." You listened and sat down between his legs, letting yourself melt into his arms. You took a few deep breaths and closed your eyes, the world seeming to stop for as long as Gepard kept holding onto you. His embrace was one of safety and protection and sometimes you cursed yourself for forgetting that. But old habits died hard. "Can I ask you a question...?", Gepard seemed hesitant and you knew what conversation this would bring, "I've always noticed that sometimes you seem on edge around me... especially since we started dating... and I keep wondering whether it's something I did. Please tell me how I can make you feel better. I want to make you happy, that's all I really want." You spotted that familiar blush on his face.
This time it was your turn to press a soft kiss to his lips, which seemed to catch him by surprise and just made him even more flustered. You knew he deserved to hear the truth from you, to understand that he didn't do anything to upset you. So you told him. You told him of your previous relationship. How this person had made you scared and hesitant; made you afraid of messing up. How you had lost sight of the parts of you that you liked the most and instead became a people pleaser, at least for a little while. How they made you doubt your perception. First it had been the relationship, then you slowly had started to question your capability for accurate judgement even outside of it. You felt unsure, unsafe. Stuck on a tightrope and only one gust of wind away from falling. You remembered the nights in which you had found it difficult to rest. How you had felt ridiculous and embarrassed of things you had previously been proud of.
Gepard listened attentively. You mused that perhaps, now that you let it all out, you went on a little bit of a tangent. You just hoped you hadn't scared him off. Gepard took your hands into his and looked into your eyes with a sincere expression. "Thank you for telling me... I understand now", he whispered and gently caressed the back of your hand with his thumb; hesitating at first, "I get it, really... my... my father was like that. I don't really talk about it often... in retrospect, maybe I should have."
He let out an awkward chuckle. "Believe it or not... Serval was always the strong one", he confessed, "I couldn't keep anyone safe back then." "You can now. That's what matters", you hugged him closely, "I feel safe with you." Gepard hugged you back. "I'm glad to hear that. I love you", he kissed your cheek again, "you don't ever have to worry about upsetting me. I would never want to hurt you." You nodded.
Gepard pulled out a pack with seeds from his pocket. "Oh, you have another one?", you asked upon realizing it was the same plant you had dropped. He nodded and smiled. "I came prepared."
He stared down at the seeds absentmindedly. "You know...", he began, "I always thought flowers are the most beautiful when they bloom freely without interference; no matter how they turn out. The same goes for people. Even if you mess up, I first and foremost want to see you thrive. I want to support you and be by your side through the good and the bad. And I'll be proud of you for every bit of progress you make."
You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a desperate kiss, tears falling down your cheeks again. But this time they did because you were moved by his words and how much love you had found in them. He kissed you deeply and lovingly, holding your hand in his to reassure you he'd be here with you for as long as you'd have him. He kissed away your sorrows and when your lips finally parted you found yourself with a bright smile on your face once more.
"Sorry about your plant", you sighed. He chuckled. "Seems we both just might be bad gardeners", he got up from the greenhouse floor and reached his hand out to you with an encouraging expression, "but we can try again - together." You took his hand, like a lifeline that was thrown to you to pull you from the deepest depths of the ocean. And looked forward to your future with him.
You knew now what came after the fire. Even the harshest inferno would eventually subside to make space for new beginnings and rebirth. One seed could one day grow into a vibrant garden if you just nurtured it and gave it time.
Life would always reclaim the space that destruction had left behind. And it all started with a couple of seeds, a few discarded flower pots and the warmth of Gepard's smile.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr#gepard x reader#gepard landau x reader#gepard landau#hsr gepard#gepard x you
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Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 17
Masterpost Read on AO3
AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).
Author's Note: Thank you so so so much to everyone who has been so understanding of me needing to take some extra time with this now! I love you all. I originally was going to end this chapter very differently but had to split it because I wanted to focus more on certain things, so you'll be getting yet another extra chapter than planned.
---
Somewhere between November 27 and November 28 Houston, TX
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
The late November stars in the darkness over Houston shine bright – at least, those bright enough to shine through the night lights of a city. If one could see them up close, they’d be fiery reds and blues and yellows. But way up there in the geocentric sky, they’re mostly just white. Explosive, burning masses of hydrogen and helium dozens to hundreds to thousands of lightyears away.
They don’t sleep, and neither does Gale.
It might seem funny that he’s wide awake. For days, he could hardly sleep because his husband wasn’t at his side, because he was worried sick he may never sleep beside John again. Now Bucky is here, and Gale still can’t bring himself to sleep. All he can do is sit on the uncomfortable couch beside the hospital bed and stare at the still form of his husband, broken and bruised but still breathing. He listens to the beeping of his heart monitor, and every beat seems to echo the words Gale is trying to drill into his head.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
After so many days spent preparing for the worst – grieving a loss he was sure would come but couldn’t bear to believe – Gale barely dares to look away. He’s worried that if he does, John will somehow slip from his grasp once again, pull away from this world even after everything it took to bring him back to it. What if he looks away, and in the absence of his gaze, Bucky drifts into the open void of the unknowable?
To the stars from which we came, the stars to which we return. Bucky Egan, at the very least, wouldn’t mind having died out there, pushing the boundaries of human exploration, ever the wanderlust-fueled explorer. But here? In a hospital?
Stop it, Gale.
John is here, bound by gravity once again where Gale can touch him and talk to him and see his smile. He’s fine. He’s recovering. The worst is over.
But still, Gale watches. No matter how many times his tired eyes threaten to close, how shallowly his own heart beats, how fuzzy his head feels. He reminds himself to keep breathing, and he counts Bucky’s breaths, too. Bucky’s lungs fill with Oxygen, and they fill Gale’s with hope.
Sometime too early in the morning, just hours after he finally laid eyes on his husband for the first time in weeks, Gale feels himself drifting. The TV in the corner of the room is playing on mute, some 80s rom-com that he always confuses with some other 80s rom-com. If John were awake and coherent, he’d insist on coming up with his own dialogue and plot-lines for whatever is silently happening on screen. Absurd stories that would never be aired on television but always, inevitably, make Gale laugh.
Bucky’s knocked out, though, and it becomes harder and harder for Gale to keep his eyes open. He rests his chin in his hand and looks out the window, at the high-rise view of the lit up, lonely Houston street. Streetlights below, stars above, a black cloudless sky and a glowing quarter moon. That nowhere and everywhere that they’ve both chased for their entire lives. It’s not meant for humans to claim, and Gale grips his hair in his fingers, stares at Earth’s only natural satellite, and thanks it for not claiming his husband. He hears the rhythm of Bucky’s heartbeat, and it beats in time with the pulse of the universe that gave him this life to run with.
Gale imagines being up there, chasing that infinity again. What does it say about him, that even after all this, he’s itching to get on that rocket, walk on the lunar surface, see the Earthrise from 240,000 miles away? He longs for it almost as much as he longs to hold John in his arms. It’s what both of them were meant to do.
Their relationship has always been that way: fully dedicated to one another, but just as dedicated to their careers. Split three ways. Buck, Bucky, and boundless flight.
He imagines looking down on their perfectly imperfect planet through Orion’s window, or Gateway’s or Starship’s – the view that he’s dreamed of, worked for, his entire life. He imagines hurtling through that wide open cosmos towards the moon and beyond, little beacon stars lighting his way to the next frontier, the next dream. He imagines setting foot on that fine lunar soil, craters rising up on all sides, his footsteps imprinted on the surface for years to come.
Or, more simply, he imagines flying a plane through the night sky, the dark Gulf beneath him, the coastline, an invisible map that he knows like the back of his hand. This world that he loves in this universe that he loves, and he’s soaring high above it all in a plane that is his purest home. Free and fearless and full of life. The only place he’s ever felt like he truly, unequivocally, knows who he is and where he’s meant to be. It could be an Air Force jet, a bomber, a NASA trainer. Or it could be his own little prop plane.
He can feel the familiar controls in his hand, energy thrumming through the aircraft and straight into him. He can hear it so clearly, as if he’s taking off from the runway at this very moment. He inhales with the sense of peace that washes over him, the simultaneous rush of adrenaline that it brings him. He imagines the way he can bank and roll and spin through the sky, completely in control and yet untethered from the rest of reality. Lost in the clouds. Maybe it’s just him, or maybe Bucky’s at his side, stars in his eyes and a grin on his face as they soar higher and higher. Maybe his hand finds Gale’s. They look each other in the eye, and Gale feels all the wrongs of this life wash away.
Two pilots. Two astronauts. Two Buckies. The way the world is meant to be.
“Gale?”
John’s voice cuts through the thick, quiet, TV-lit dimness of this wonderland of the sick and broken, dragging Gale back down to Earth. The sound is so small that Gale almost wonders if he really heard it, or if it was simply an echo of his drifting not-quite-day-dream. But his ears are tuned to the sound of John’s voice, and no matter how soft, it hits him like a wall of stone. Weak and nervous, the same as it was on Starship and Orion. Like a child waking alone in the darkness with no one to hold onto.
Gale, not for the first time, wonders why, in a place of fear and vulnerability, Bucky has turned to calling him by his real name. Gale not Buck.
He gets to his feet, feels the room tilt around his own fatigue and undoubted dehydration. “I’m here darlin’,” he manages to say.
In the LED light of the television, he sees Bucky’s eyes, open and unfocused. They seem to find Gale, though, latching onto him like he’s a flame in the dark. Bucky doesn’t smile, but a certain tension leaves the worried set of his features as he follows Gale’s every move.
At the side of the bed, Gale gently grasps Bucky’s clammy hand in his, mindlessly rubs his thumb along the silver band on his ring finger. Mine. My heart. My soul. My love. “What’s wrong?”
Bucky stares at him, eyes wide, as if he can’t believe Gale is there. “‘S’not Orion.”
Gale shakes his head, biting at his lower lip as his heart looks for its own steady beat. “No,” he agrees. “You’re home. You’re in the hospital.”
“Oh.” That’s it. Just oh. Like it makes sense but also makes no sense at all, and Gale doesn’t know which it is or if it’s somehow both. Maybe he could’ve told Bucky he was anywhere and he would’ve believed it. As he’s trying to sort through what comes next – trying to figure out if Bucky remembers anything or if he understands where he is and why – Bucky says something else. “You’re here.” Again, like he can’t believe it.
Gale squeezes his hand gently, holds back a choked breath when Bucky squeezes back. He uses his other hand to stroke Bucky’s cheek, feeling the warmth there, the softness of his skin, solid and whole. “I’m right here,” he whispers, because his own voice isn’t strong enough to say it any louder.
The next word to come out of Bucky’s mouth is the last for the night, but it carves something sad and grateful and all-over undefinable deep into Gale’s chest. He looks into Gale’s eyes and his lips part and it comes out in a rush of breath that is so simple but ties this fractured reality together again.
“Stay?”
So he stays.
Two people, especially two grown men, really, really do not fit in a hospital bed. But Buck and Bucky tend to find ways to bend the laws of physical space to their will, to accommodate the whole that they collectively constitute. Gale helps Bucky scoot over, ever careful of his casted leg, and he eases himself into the bed, wraps himself around his husband like he alone can hold the pieces of him together. The warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against him settles something in Gale’s soul, and his heart swells at the familiarity of having this man in his arms – something he went too long without and nearly lost all together. Bucky is fast asleep the moment he nuzzles into Gale’s chest, and try as he might to stay awake with this ridiculous notion that he needs to watch over Bucky, Gale drifts off without fear clutching at his throat for the first time in weeks.
They only get a few hours of quiet, nightmare-free sleep before the morning nurse walks in and finds two world-renowned astronauts tucked against each other between the cramped bed rails. Her patient is sound asleep, his face finally relaxed instead of pained. Gale’s face is tucked into the crook of Bucky’s neck, his hand on Bucky’s chest. She can do nothing but smile, shake her head, and do her best not to wake them.
Gale’s eyes groggily open to the rising light of a cloudy dawn and the sound of the nurse adjusting Bucky’s IV. But she just pats him on the leg and tells him to go back to sleep. She was briefed by her superiors and by NASA itself. She knows what kind of Hell they’ve both been dragged through. If John Egan and Gale Cleven want to share a bed for a few hours, they can damn well share a bed.
—
That first morning that Bucky wakes up in the hospital, he’s convinced he’s on Orion. Faintly, he hears rustling around him, feels someone prodding at his IV, his leg, his head. Without even opening his eyes, he winces at the pain. His head feels like it’s splitting in half. He tries weakly to push away the hands holding him in place, hears someone shushing him like a spooked animal, tries to push them away, too. And then all of it is gone.
Some time later – it could be an eternity for all he cares, but Gale tells him it was only about an hour – the sound of quiet music brings him back to the surface. The wake-up alarm, for sure. He tries to blink his eyes open, but his eyelids feel heavy and sticky and don’t want to cooperate. He sees glimpses of bright light, grays and whites above him. Orion’s interior. Someone is beside him; he can feel them. Rosie, probably.
“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…”
Bucky wonders who on Earth – or not on Earth – chose a Christmas song as their morning alarm.
But then a gentle hand is wiping sweat off his forehead, trailing down his cheek like it just doesn’t want to pull away quite yet. Someone isn’t just beside him, but he can feel them pressed up against him, all along his side, warm and comforting. A soft weight is pressed over his chest – someone’s arm, not holding him down, but simply holding him. Slowly, the music becomes clearer, and he realizes that it isn’t a song playing over Orion’s speakers. Instead, the someone beside him is singing quietly, a deep, smooth voice that brings Bucky to pieces every time he hears it.
Why is Buck on Orion?
“Christmas Eve’ll find me, where the love light gleams…”
Bucky fights to open his eyes all the way, tilting his head towards the warmth at his side, the voice in his ear. But Gale’s voice trails off when he notices Bucky stirring. Bucky whines in protest, and Gale picks back up, finishes the last few lines of the song.
Finally, Bucky’s vision comes into focus, and he sees a tall white ceiling above him, monitors on either side of the bed he’s laying on. His leg is held together by a stiff, scratchy cast, elevated at the end of the mattress. The walls are white and empty. Square.
Not Orion. Too big.
Bucky’s heart rate jumps, and he hears a beeping noise reflect that for everyone around to hear.
“Hey, it’s alright.” Gale’s hand gently cups the side of Bucky’s face again, his thumb rubbing gently over his brow, then his cheek.
Bucky opens his mouth to say something, to ask what’s going on because his brain is only putting together bits and pieces that he can’t fully wrap his head around. He feels like, somewhere, he remembers things that happened, but he doesn’t remember what they were. He doesn’t remember the when or the how. He was on the moon. And then he was in pain. And a lot is missing but somehow he was on Orion again, and all he can remember is blurry moments, pain and fear and sickness. Somewhere, he knows where he is and how he got here, like it’s right on the tip of his tongue, but his brain can’t find the correct puzzle pieces to fill in the gap. They’re there, but they’re not where they need to be. And now he finds that his throat hurts and his head hurts and his lips are dry and sticky and-
“Here,” Gale says. He turns away to pick up a cup of water, and he guides a straw to Bucky’s mouth. “Water. It’ll help.”
Water. Bucky can do water. He clasps the straw between his lips and sucks on it gratefully. It tastes different than what they had up there.
When Gale pulls the cup away and sets it on the little table beside the hospital bed, Bucky finally comprehends that Gale is laying on the bed beside him, squished in between the bars. They’re in a hospital room. He remembers Gale being here when it was dark, kneeling on the floor, crying against Bucky’s hand. His husband looks wrecked, exhausted, worn out.
Because of Bucky.
And yet he turns back over, propping himself up on his side with one elbow, and there’s a small, hopeful smile on his face.
Because of Bucky.
Two things can be true.
“Christmas songs?” Those are Bucky’s first words of the morning, scraping out of a scratchy throat but strong and intentional nonetheless. “How long was I out?”
Gale’s thumb strokes lazy patterns over Bucky’s chest, covered by a thin hospital gown. “It’s November 28th. You splashed down on the 26th and arrived stateside yesterday.”
A little laugh pops up out of Bucky’s sore chest. Everything is sore, and the laugh makes the pounding in his head intensify. But it’s worth it to see the way Gale’s tired eyes get a little brighter. Usually, Bucky is the one trying to celebrate Christmas as early as possible, even before Thanksgiving comes around. The moment Halloween is over, Bucky moves right on to holiday cheer. Buck is always the one futilely begging him to wait until December. Yet here he is, singing Bucky a Christmas song.
“You like them,” Gale mutters quietly, reading Bucky’s mind. And Bucky gets totally lost in the way Gale’s eyes shyly flutter downward as he looks away, biting gently at his lower lip. Bucky lifts his hand, which feels as heavy as lead, and rests it over top of Gale’s. The touch sends a bolt of electricity through him, like they’re just awkward teenagers again, holding hands for the first time, and it grounds Bucky back to this planet.
Gale reaches forward suddenly to grab something before it falls to the floor. A little stuffed bear in a NASA shirt. Delicately, he presses Beary Egan back against Bucky’s side, secure between his chest and bicep. Bucky looks down at the little guy. “I remember you,” he mumbles fondly.
His brain feels fuzzy, and he wishes his head would stop pounding so bad. He looks at Gale, wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue. But he can’t hold onto them, like trying to catch a bug in a net, and he forces his eyes to focus on his husband’s face. Soft and familiar and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
I love you, he wants to say. His lips move, but the sound doesn’t quite make it out. Gale kisses the top of his head and pulls him close, so Bucky is resting against his chest. He starts singing White Christmas, low and sweet, his lips brushing against the hair still exposed at the top of Bucky’s head above the bandage. Bucky smiles, and as he fiddles mindlessly with his husband’s fingers, he can feel Gale smiling, too.
—
Those first 24 hours are the most promising. Bucky rapidly regains strength under the hospital’s care. He wakes several times throughout the day, seeming alert and aware. He complains about the scratchy hospital gown, and he goes so far as to mention things he remembers about the mission. “Didn’t get the plants,” he’ll say. Or “‘S’quiet on the moon” or “felt sick a lot.” Sometimes he doesn’t have the words for what he wants to say, even if Gale asks him about something specific. He might smile or frown or shrug, part his lips to answer but stop short of spitting out the sounds. He looks out the window, watches whatever’s on TV, holds Gale’s hand. His fine motor control remains shaky, and Gale finds himself having to help him eat sometimes – more soup for now – especially later in the day when Bucky gets more fatigued. The doctor assures Gale that regaining full motor control may take time, but is likely at the rate Bucky is progressing.
Bucky asks about Pepper at some point. Gale doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she’s been grieving his absence. He tells him that’s she’s staying with Benny right now, that she misses him.
Gale slips out for a few hours in the middle of the afternoon to head to JSC, where he debriefs with Mission Control, Harding, and the rest of the crew. It’s the first of several meetings of the sort, where they’ll discuss everything from spacecraft performance to experiment results to crew health. For now, they tiptoe around the elephant in the room – what went wrong with that rover. Bucky’s accident and everything that followed will constitute its own debrief, or possibly more than one.
Before heading off with Marge to prep for a post-flight press conference, the three present crew members ask about Bucky, and Gale assures them that he’s doing okay.
The man in question is asleep when Gale returns in a fresh change of clothes. He’s carrying two duffel bags – one full of clothes and supplies for himself, and one full of clothes for Bucky so he doesn’t have to wear that awful gown. He drops the bags in the corner of the room and takes the opportunity to turn the TV back on, volume low. He flips to the press conference. Harding and Marge are both present to moderate, and Curt, Rosie, and Alex, dressed in flight suits, sit together at a long table emblazoned with a NASA Artemis banner. Gale listens as they answer questions about the mission, but he finds he can’t focus for shit.
The press room is packed full of people, buzzing with a need-to-know energy. Of course, the first reporters to shoot their hands into the air ask about Bucky’s condition, to which Rosie responds that the commander is “recovering well.” The next is about the injuries he sustained, and then there’s one about if he’s expected to make a full recovery. “We’re optimistic,” Rosie says – code for, we hope so, but we don’t know.
Gale knows that, as the questions pour in about what happened and how it happened and what it means for NASA, Marge and Harding will begin to shift the conference away from John’s accident entirely. A single “how can NASA justify such a dangerous program” will be professionally answered, and then any further questions regarding the incident will be pushed aside for now. But Gale doesn’t make it that far anyway.
When someone asks for an account of what went wrong that day on the moon, Curt, as the only other person present, is forced to explain what happened at Shackleton Crater. He makes every effort to speak professionally, but everyone watching can plainly see that it’s an uncomfortable conversation to have. Gale can’t stand to listen for even another second.
He’ll be forced to relive what happened over and over for months, maybe years to come. He’ll hear it in debriefings and on the news. He’ll discuss it in interviews and press conferences. It’ll loom over him as he prepares for his own mission. It’ll haunt his dreams, even when Bucky is home safe, healthy and happy and raring for another go. It won’t leave him. Ever.
So for now, he turns off the TV. He sits quietly. He listens to the beeping heart monitor. And he tries not to forget that his husband is alive beside him.
—
The nurses allow a handful of visitors over the weekend. Bucky experiences intense periods of discomfort and confusion overnight, but once again seems lucid in the morning. Whatever they put in the IV is starting to dull the fever and helps with the pain, but only so much can be done when the pain is nearly unbearable. It also has the side effect of making Bucky feel nauseous throughout the day. Despite all of that, he’s in good spirits, making small talk with the nurse as she takes his vitals or kissing the back of Gale’s hand whenever he has the chance. So, late on Saturday morning, Gale leaves for another debriefing at JSC, and he returns in the afternoon with Benny and Marge trailing after him.
One of the nurses lets Gale know that Bucky woke again about an hour ago, cooperated well for all of his hygiene tasks, and ate some yogurt. He seems lucid now, but had an initial moment of anxiety when he realized Gale was gone. The head of the bed is raised, so he’s in an upright sitting position, now dressed in an old Air Force t-shirt and gray shorts. A fresh bandage is wrapped around his head.
“You look like shit,” Benny tells him as he stops at the end of the bed, arms crossed. He grins at Bucky, who raises a hand and just about manages to flip him off.
Marge goes straight to the bedside, leaning in to wrap Bucky in a tight hug. He raises both arms to hug her back with a force that surprises both of them. On Earth and in proper healthcare, he’s finally regaining the strength for things like that, even if his hands don’t always work right.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Marge whispers.
“Kinda miss the moon,” Bucky whispers back. Gale, who stands on the other side of Bucky’s bed, smacks him gently on the shoulder, making Bucky smile. “I missed ya, Marge,” he says sincerely as she lets go.
“Didn’t miss me?” Benny asks.
Bucky playfully glares at him. “Heard enough of your voice for a lifetime.”
Benny rolls his eyes, but he switches places with Marge to give Bucky a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t die.” He pulls away and motions to Gale. “Your husband would’ve been a nightmare to deal with.”
Gale scowls and raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Bucky reaches for his hand, kisses his knuckles. And none of them say a word about the fact that Gale was nearly inconsolable as it was.
Bucky looks at Marge. “Saw the guys on the, um… the…” He points vaguely to the TV and closes his eyes in frustration.
“The news,” Gale supplies, and Bucky nods. “I didn’t know you were awake for that.”
Bucky shrugs. “I never really know when I’m awake.” This makes Benny snort, because it sounds like such a John thing to say, and yet right now it’s actually true.
Marge sits at the end of Bucky’s bed. “Hope it’s alright they did the post-flight press conference without their commander.”
“Doesn’t seem right, huh?” Bucky points out. He smiles though, so Marge knows he doesn’t mean it. He knows there wasn’t much choice. “World’s gonna think I’m dyin’.”
“Well,” Benny starts to say, but Gale hits him with a nasty glare that shuts him up.
Marge rolls her eyes. “What? Do you want me to post a picture of you or something? Prove you’re alive?” She’s joking, but Bucky isn’t.
So the Artemis PAO posts two photographs on NASA’s various relevant social media accounts: one of Bucky sitting up in the hospital bed, head wrapped, leg in a cast, face pale, but smiling brightly with two thumbs up; and one candid of him and Gale, looking at each other with all the love in the world, their hands clasped together on top of the shitty hospital mattress.
She drafts a brief statement to go with them, starting with the words: “Artemis 3 commander, Major John Egan, is recovering well after his incident at the lunar South Pole.” She also includes, at his insistence, the sentiment that he’d go back, it was the mission of a lifetime, and he’s grateful to have had such an amazing crew up there with him.
She does not include his message of “fuck you” to everyone who thought he deserved it.
—
When Harding comes by in the afternoon, he first pulls Gale into a tight hug. No words pass between them, but the look Chick gives him says everything that needs to be said. I’m proud of you, I’m here for you, everything will be okay.
Both of them are caught in a nervous sense of relief and tentative hope. They both thought they might lose John. One of Harding’s boys. Gale’s entire world. They both felt, in their own ways, the world crash around them. No one saw the director of the spaceflight program break every wine glass in his kitchen cabinet by chucking them at the wall. No one saw the way he paced in the darkness and screamed at the moon and interrogated every man and woman who had a hand in building that damn rover.
All they saw was a hardened, fearless man, hell bent on bringing his astronauts home. He spoke to the press every day, fielded every absurd question they had. He directed the flight controllers and oversaw the task forces and pushed them all to do better, work harder, find more solutions. He watched Gale fall apart. He prepared for John’s death, had to have Marge draft a damn statement about it – something she never told Gale. He had to stand in his office and practice giving it, stone-faced, in the event he had to give it on live television.
Today we lost an American hero… He gave his life doing what he loved…
John Egan, a good pilot, a good astronaut, a good husband��
This is a devastating loss for the NASA community and for America…
We commit his soul to the stars, and we hope he will fly among them with the same fire in his heart…
“Hey Chick.”
Chick takes a long moment to stare at Bucky, upright in the hospital bed. He looks sick, but he doesn’t look small. He doesn’t look weak.
We commit his soul to the stars…
The words ring in Chick’s head, and just a few days after Thanksgiving, he can’t thank this world enough for not forcing him to say them on a live broadcast. Miraculously, John’s wild, unruly soul still has a home on this Earth, reflected in his grin, in the way his curls stick up in all different directions from beneath the bandage around his head, the glint in his eyes, still glassy from fever but wide open and watching.
“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Harding says, pushing aside the emotion he feels. He shoves his hands into his pockets, then pulls them back out, adjusts the collar of his shirt, looks at Bucky’s cast, his IV, his fever-reddened cheeks. Listens to the heart monitor playing its steady song.
Bucky reaches an arm up, inviting Chick in for a hug that both of them desperately need. Chick will swear he didn’t cry, but it was damn close.
Bucky smirks at him when he stands upright again. “I think I deserve man of the year.”
—
When the rest of the crew comes to visit on Sunday, finally released from NASA’s laundry list of initial debriefings and medical checks, the first thing that happens is they come marching into the room single file, singing “We’re glad you’re not dead” to the tune of Happy Birthday. Gale doesn’t know if he should laugh or hide his face in second hand embarrassment. Bucky waves his hand in the air like a conductor as they gather around his bed, Curt on his right, Rosie seated at the foot of the bed, Alex standing at the end. Gale sits on the couch, present but allowing the four crewmates some space.
The second thing that happens is all four astronauts stick their tongues out at each other. Gale raises his eyebrow, but not a single one explains.
The third thing that happens is Curt hands over a sealed silver packet, much like the ones they had on the spacecraft. Exactly like the ones they had on the spacecraft.
“The fuck?” Bucky scoffs, even as he grabs the packet. “Hospital food’s bad. Space food ain’t much better.”
“Orange juice,” Curt says. He’s pleased when Bucky’s eyes widen a little bit, skepticism replaced with gratitude. “Buck mentioned the juice here kinda sucked. Nicked it from the space center this morning.”
Curt and Rosie both have half a mind to open the pouch for Bucky, hold it up for him to sip from. But Bucky pops the top off all on his own and presses the straw between his lips. He nods in approval after taking a sip. “Thank you, orange juice, for keeping me alive.”
Curt holds a hand over his heart, using the other to motion to himself and Rosie. “I think the orange juice had a little help.”
Bucky waves a hand to brush them off with a roll of his eyes, but then he grins at them. “I wouldn’t, uh…” He tilts his head, squinting as he seems to lose the words he wanted to say, and the grin falls away. After a long few seconds, he looks at them again, a more tempered smile returning to his face. “Wouldn’t be here if… if it weren’t for you two.”
Even if the words would stop fading from his brain, there aren’t any words that can appropriately encapsulate what Bucky needs to say. How do you thank someone for saving your life in a situation that is quite literally beyond the human limits of survival? How do you thank them for looking after you, day and night, doing whatever needed to be done just to make sure you kept breathing? How do you express regret for having upended the once in a lifetime mission that they’d spent years preparing for? Sadness for what was sacrificed? Gratitude for making that sacrifice anyway?
Curt shakes his head and rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Couldn’t stand the idea of flyin’ home with your dead body in a space suit. Keepin’ ya alive was the best way to avoid it.”
Bucky looks up at him. “Sorry you didn’t get to…” He sighs and shakes his head.
“The plants,” Gale calls out.
Bucky nods. “The plants.”
He doesn’t remember much of anything from those touch and go days on Starship. But in every memory he does have of it, Curt is right there with him. Curt, standing over him with worry all over his face. Curt, speaking to Houston. Curt, staring out the window at the little greenhouse he’d never see again. Curt, cleaning up Bucky’s messes and struggling to get him into the OCS suit. Curt, reaching out to him, telling him he was gonna be alright.
Little snapshots of a blurry, industrial world. Whites and grays and pain and fear. And in the middle of it all, Curt.
The Artemis pilot shrugs and grips Bucky’s shoulder a little harder. “You’re worth more to me.” It’s the single most genuine thing Curt has ever said to him. He smiles self-deprecatingly and says “Alright, quit goin’ all sappy on me. I saved your ass. What else is new?”
Bucky laughs and shakes off Curt’s hand. Then he looks at Rosie. “You… are a steely-eyed missile man.” Of all the words to be able to remember, of course, for a space-obsessed boy-turned-pilot-turned-astronaut, that term sticks out loud and clear.
“I think that title is reserved for the engineers,” Rosie chuckles. It’s a name that first popped up in Mission Control during the Apollo days – originating with John Aaron – for an astronaut or engineer who proved resourceful and quick-thinking in a crisis, devising a solution to a life- or mission-threatening problem. “All I did was keep you from finding new ways to fuckin’ off yourself.”
Bucky remembers more of his time on Orion, though not all of it. Mostly he remembers the pain and the nausea, the feeling of his body floating in pieces, no longer a whole. He remembers the stars and the Earth out the window. Beary Egan in his hands. He remembers Rosie trying to get him to eat. Rosie, at his side day and night. Rosie, brushing back his sweaty hair and hugging him when he couldn’t stop shaking. Rosie, trying to convince him to keep fighting just a little longer.
Rosie worked through every single problem. He guided Curt through how to care for Bucky, how to stabilize his leg, hold him down through a seizure, keep him stable. Then on Orion, he hardly slept, watching over Bucky at all times. He prevented Bucky from re-injuring himself, from tearing out his IV. He worked out how to keep Bucky going on rationed IV fluid and the little food he could stomach. Sure, Houston was there to help. But Dr. Rosenthal is the one that actively figured out how to keep Bucky alive at every point of their journey back to Earth. He foresaw and solved the problems. He brought Bucky home.
So Bucky shakes his head when Rosie tries to be modest. He looks at Gale. “Buck, tell Marge to write up somethin’ ‘bout Rosie. Steely-eyed missile man.”
“I don’t tell Marge what to do,” Gale says flatly.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ask her.” He catches Gale’s eye and points at Rosie again. It takes him another moment to get the words right, and they fumble through his lips, but they make it through. “This man d-deserves it more ‘n anyone.”
Articles about Dr. Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, the “steely-eyed missile man” who got Major Egan home, will be circulating within 48 hours.
Finally, Bucky looks at Alex. “And you… thanks for lookin’ after her.” He means the capsule, of course. Alex stepped in when Bucky couldn’t, made sure Orion kept functioning and got them all home in one piece. “G-Got her home at least as good as I could’ve.”
Alex rolls his eyes, but the engineer smiles and sets a hand on Bucky’s leg. “I wish you didn’t almost clock out on us, but it was a hell of a ride.”
Gale watches the four of them laugh and joke and give each other shit. Even as Bucky starts to lose energy, Gale sees the way he smiles at his crew, sticks his tongue out when Curt says something rude. The way he tries to stay present even when the words seem to leave him. The way he leans into Rosie when the physician gives him a tight side hug. The way he willingly hands Beary Egan off to Alex to inspect before protectively taking the plushie back again.
This right here is their family. They’d each do just about anything for one another – not even the sky's the limit. And yet Gale feels like he’s indebted to them for life, because against all odds, they brought his husband home to him.
—
Somewhere in the liminal space between Sunday and Monday, Gale has to wake Bucky – twitching, near-crying, and scratching at his IV – from a nightmare. Bucky won’t speak, won’t tell Gale what the nightmare was about. He holds onto Gale’s hand and won’t let go until Gale finally climbs into the bed beside him, holding him tight. Beary Egan remains clutched to his chest.
Monday morning finds him in another state of confusion, more or less mute with an elevated heart rate signifying his distress. He keeps trying to get at the cast on his leg or pull off the bandage on his head. He scrabbles weakly at the IV and tries to lash out when the nurse attempts to restrain his hands for his own safety. Gale has to clamp both of Bucky’s hands tightly in his own as he tries to ask him to calm down and assures him he’s alright. He quietly sings Blue Skies, looks into wild blue eyes. He squeezes Bucky’s hands, and slowly Bucky’s heart rate drops; the tension leaves his body.
The nurse ups his morphine, and he’s out again.
The next time he wakes, early Monday afternoon, Bucky is of clearer mind. Gale, who left for a few hours to stop by JSC, returns to the hospital to find him flirting with the nurse taking his vitals. He’s eating scrambled eggs, his hand trembling the littlest bit as he lifts his fork to his mouth, but he’s smiling at the nurse. She blushes at something he says, and Gale knocks on the open door.
Bucky’s eyes are clear and focused as they immediately shift to Gale, who is dressed in black jeans, a gray long-sleeve, and a NASA flight jacket with his hair gelled back.
“There’s my lovely wife!” The smile on Bucky’s face widens, and a glob of scrambled eggs tumbles off his fork and onto the plate. He glares at it and lowers the fork back to the plate as well.
The corner of Gale’s mouth curves up as he leans against the door frame. “Losin’ interest in me already?”
“You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since we met, doll.” Bucky reaches a hand out, causing the IV to tug at the skin – red and irritated from his attempts to remove it this morning. Gale fully enters the room to take Bucky’s hand. Then Bucky motions to the nurse. “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell Clara she looks beautiful today.”
The nurse – Clara – smiles shyly as she jots down information on Bucky’s chart. “And you certainly keep us on our toes Major Egan.”
“What he does best,” Gale agrees. He looks down as Bucky slides his hand away once again, looking intently at his plate.
“His temperature is going down,” Clara tells Gale by way of update. “Only 99.2, so the propranolol seems to be helping. We’re very pleased.”
“Damn eggs,” Bucky mutters. He picks up the fork again and scoops up some of the offending eggs. His hand shakes as he lifts the fork to his mouth and barely manages to get his lips around it. No matter how many times he’s told it’ll take some good occupational therapy to regain fine motor control, he’s pissed about it.
Clara sets the clipboard with John’s chart down on the mattress. “Shall we take a look at that scalp infection? If it’s healing nicely, we can keep the bandage off.”
Bucky nods, and Clara unwinds the gauze from around his head. The healing gash is a lot less angry than it was before, and she deems it improved enough to keep the wrap off for now. Bucky raises a tentative hand to the back of his head, feeling the patch of stubbly hair where they had to shave it once again upon his arrival. Gale gently smacks his hand. “That’s what got you in trouble in the first place.”
Bucky scowls but lets his hand be guided away from his head. “Think it was the rover that got me in trouble.”
Gale can’t really argue with that, and he tries to push past the unsettled feeling the statement leaves him with. Sensing the sudden tension, Clara pats Bucky on the shoulder, tells him to try to finish his eggs, and leaves the couple be.
Over the next 24 hours, Bucky manages to not only finish his scrambled eggs but also eat jell-o, a late dinner of chicken and rice, and half a pancake for breakfast that he savors the taste of but nearly throws back up – too rich too fast. Sometimes he needs Gale’s help holding the utensils, and sometimes he doesn’t. They go on a couple of walks around the hospital ward, Gale pushing Bucky in a wheelchair.
They talk until Bucky’s brain refuses to talk anymore. Then they stay in peaceful silence, or Gale fills the gaps with stories, well-wishes from friends, or, most often by Bucky’s request, more singing. Bucky drifts in and out of consciousness with a far better sense of place and time than when he was on Orion, but his baseline anxiety levels are elevated. Overnight, they deal with more nightmares, more heart rate and blood pressure spikes, more lapses in memory and awareness.
Turns out Gale isn’t the only one with a newfound unease in the night.
In the daylight, Bucky’s cognitive capabilities are far more reliable, and he seems nearly normal. Cocky, charismatic Major Bucky Egan with the winning smile, flirting with Gale and every nurse – young or old, male or female – who attends to him.
On Tuesday, Bucky’s fever is gone. The headwrap stays off. Rosie comes by early that afternoon to visit and consult with the doctor, who lets Gale know that Bucky will likely be able to go home the next day. Rosie helps Gale make a list of things he’ll need to do to help Bucky at home, and he assures Gale he’ll help out, too.
It feels like they’ve climbed a damn mountain, and they’re so close to the summit. It’s the bottom of the ninth, as Bucky would say. He’s running for home.
—
The first time Gale hears Bucky cough is early on Tuesday evening. He hardly even glances up from his laptop. Just a quick look to make sure John is alright and then, seeing his husband peacefully asleep, he goes back to reviewing Orion flight data sent over from JSC, noting down how Artemis 3 findings may impact Artemis 4 protocols. A couple hours later, when he hears it again, it’s louder, wetter, and Gale frowns. But still, Bucky remains asleep, his brow just the slightest bit scrunched. Gale watches him for a minute before returning to his work, running a hand through his hair as he stifles a yawn. He takes a sip of shitty hospital coffee, tries to blink the tiredness out of his eyes, and wraps his fists in the soft sleeves of the Yankees sweatshirt that he’s wearing once again.
By about 8pm, he’s struggling to focus on the data swimming across his too-bright laptop screen, fending off a headache of his own. He’s debating whether or not he can stomach food from the hospital cafeteria, or if he’s better off going in search of something else nearby. Hunger is, for better or worse, something he’s started actually feeling again since Bucky has been progressing under the hospital’s care.
He’s thinking about calling Benny or Marge to see if they want to meet at the Hundred Proof when the coughing starts up again. And this time, it doesn’t stop. Instead, when Gale looks up from his laptop, Bucky’s eyes are wide open, and he’s coughing so hard his face is turning red. He winces at the pain that the violent motion causes to his head and body. Gale sets his laptop aside and steps over to the bed, helps Bucky to sit up, rubs a hand up and down his back and presses the other to his chest.
“Gale?” Bucky whispers. His face looks panicked, scared. And it pulls at Gale’s heart as he wonders if this is what Bucky looked like on Orion, every time he reached out into the void, hoping for Gale to be there. He takes Bucky’s hand in his and squeezes, a silent I’m here. A secret, I’m sorry I wasn’t before.
When the coughing subsides and Bucky manages to catch his breath, he makes a disgusted face and gags a little bit. Gale grabs a napkin from the tray at Bucky’s bedside, holds it out for Bucky to spit into, which he does. “You alright?”
Bucky squints and shakes his head, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. He sniffs, and Gale notices for the first time that Bucky’s all stuffed up again, breathing mostly through his mouth. His eyes are a little red and watery, lips chapped, cheeks pink. The dark curls over his forehead are damp with sweat.
Gale presses his wrist to Bucky’s forehead, and he sighs. “You’re warm.”
Bucky looks up at him. The fever he’d been fighting since his return trip had finally gone down, and yet here he is all hot and stuffy again. When Bucky talks, his voice is thick with congestion and tired with the difficulty of drawing air into his lungs. “Shit.”
Gale goes to alert one of the nurses, who promptly follows him back to the room to take Bucky’s temperature. Sure enough, it’s back up to 101.
Gale settles for hospital food. He convinces Bucky to drink juice and swallow a few bites of soup, but he refuses anything else. Any progress he made in eating more solid food over the last day is fundamentally lost. Now, he shakes his head and tells Gale that the soup makes him feel sick.
—
By the middle of the night, Bucky can’t breathe too well anymore. Unregulated gasps give way to pained wheezing as his lungs refuse to draw in the right amount of oxygen. His head is spinning, and he doesn’t know where he is. “Rosie?” he weakly calls out. It’s too dark, he can’t see the other astronauts across from him. He can’t feel Curt’s presence at his side.
He blinks in confusion when someone kneels down beside him, because that isn’t how people move in space. A strong, slender hand grabs onto his. “Look at me, darlin’.”
Bucky blinks slowly, tries to understand why that voice is here. With him. He reaches a hand up to his own ear in search of a com cap that isn’t there. “Buck.” A cough wracks his chest, and he feels any breath he’d managed to draw being choked from his aching lungs.
“I’m gonna get the nurse,” Gale says calmly.
“No,” Bucky mutters. His hand searches for the side of Gale’s head, wanting to touch, feel, reassure himself that his husband is here. He feels the gravity pull at his limbs, the IV tug at his skin, the pulse pounding through his leg and his chest and his head. “W-Where am I?”
In the darkness, he sees the way Gale frowns, and then tries to smile again, and then drops any expression entirely. Gale grips his hand harder, uses his other to brush the sweaty hair back from Bucky’s forehead. Bucky’s heart lurches at the familiar feeling, recalling vague memories of others doing that for him on Orion. His eyes feel wet.
Gale doesn’t break eye contact even as the question tears him apart. “You’re in the hospital, sweetheart. In Texas. You came home five days ago.”
Bucky stares at him, trying to compute something that just won’t quite come together. He remembers being here. He doesn’t remember how he got here. He remembers the pain of being on Orion, and yet part of him is angry that he’s back on this Earth. He doesn’t understand how Gale is here, but he wants to hold on and never, ever let go. He still feels dizzy and he can’t stand the sound of his own breathing, strained and inept. His chest hurts.
“I’m gonna get-”
“Don’t go,” Bucky pleads.
Gale looks pained, but he nods. Carefully, not letting go of Bucky’s hand, he reaches over to press the nurse call button beside the bed. He doesn’t leave Bucky’s side until a nurse comes in to see what the problem is.
The nurse checks his vitals. “You’re gonna be alright,” she says in a calm, southern drawl. She moves about with such certainty, and Gale tracks her every move even as Bucky can’t, his head hurting too much as he focuses on not suffocating. And then the nurse is fitting a nasal cannula under his nose and around his ears, brushing back his hair in the same comforting way that Gale and Curt and Rosie did.
“We’re gonna get you some extra oxygen here,” the nurse explains. “Just hold your husband’s hand and try to breathe easy, honey.”
—
In the morning, they take Bucky for imaging, and Gale’s fears prove true: everything about Bucky was weak by the time he made it to the hospital, including his immune system. After being isolated from everyone but a select few for weeks on end and receiving little sufficient nutrients for so long, he contracted a cold and some form of pneumonia during his hospital stay.
They adjust his IV antibiotics, convince him to drink some water, but can’t get him to eat. The doctor pulls Gale into the hall, and she tells him that they want to keep Bucky for a bit longer to make sure they have a good handle on the infection in his lungs. Gale finds himself flexing the hand he’d punched the mirror with – weeks ago, now – looking for something to ground him. But the skin is healed over, painless. He wishes he could punch something else. Wishes he could have a drink. Hates himself for it.
Instead, he finds himself dropping, numb, to the chair conveniently beside him. He briefly wonders if doctors do that on purpose, give people bad news where there’s an easy place to sit down.
It’s not like it’s the worst thing she could’ve told him. It’s not like it’s even unexpected. Out of everything that has gone wrong, could have gone wrong, it could be worse.
But they were so fucking close.
Gale nods to himself and runs a hand through his hair, blows a heavy breath through his lips.
“He’ll be just fine, Major Cleven,” the doctor tells him. “He might be weakened. But he’s not weak.”
Gale nods again. Nothing about John Egan is weak. Never has been. But Gale also isn’t naive.
The doctor puts a hand on his shoulder and assures him that John will get better soon. And then she leaves him be.
He texts Rosie an update. Sits quietly for a while, surrounded by white halls, white floors, the scent of disinfectant. He finds it ironic that the hospital that is supposed to help Bucky heal also brought him new sickness.
“They’ll get him taken care of,” Rosie’s text comes back. “He’ll be home in no time. Let me know if you have any questions or want to talk.”
Gale pockets his phone and gets to his feet. He holds his breath, counts the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four.
When he hits ten, he exhales and walks back to Bucky’s room. Over the last few days, they’ve accumulated get-well cards and a few flower arrangements, a stuffed Husky from Benny. There’s a brand new drawing from Maggie, one of the little girl and Bucky together on the moon. In the corner, a few balloons from the crew – one meant to look like Mars, one like the moon, and one a star. The gifts are scattered around, brightening a sterile room, and Bucky sits in the middle of it, propped up in bed with his casted leg propped on a pillow, Beary Egan resting beside him. His cast has been signed in colorful marker by his crew mates (at Curt’s insistence), a few of the nurses, and by Gale (at Bucky’s insistence). Gale even drew a little paw print for Pepper.
Gale pauses in the doorway, taking in every detail. He’s struck by the thought that this is a view he’ll remember for the rest of his life: his husband in a hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen, an IV, a heart monitor; his unkempt hair, growing long from too many weeks of not cutting it, curls draped over his ears and his forehead; his face flushed with a fever that won’t go away; the sound of him choking back coughs and the sterile scent of the room. Every good and bad little nuance of this situation collides in an earthquake that leaves Gale a little dazed. It’s all nearly too much, broken puzzle pieces that are too big for the space they try to occupy. The grief he’s been through, a tragedy narrowly avoided, the gratitude he feels, the relief, the despondency that came with the doctor’s news. All wrapped up in a pure and painful, unequivocal love for the man in front of him. They’re emotions that Gale doesn’t have words for, can’t even begin to sort through, but they all rise up in his chest unbidden.
He leans against the door frame and watches Bucky, who is looking out the window at the late morning light, the trees and the birds. Gale wonders what he’s thinking about. He runs his thumb along his wedding ring, and he notices that Bucky is doing the same.
It’s at that moment that Bucky turns to look at him. For the first time, Gale thinks he looks small in that bed, face pale, eyes glassy once again. But he smiles at Gale like none of it matters, like they’re on a beach on the Gulf, drenched in sun, instead of stewing here. Gale forces his mouth into a crooked little half-upturned thing to keep the emotion from showing on his face, keep his features steady. His throat feels tight, his own eyes burning. But he blinks away the tears that threaten to well up, and he takes a breath.
“Hey there,” he says.
Bucky lifts his hand, holding it out. Gale steps into the room to take it, and Bucky presses his lips to Gale’s knuckles. “Hi.”
“Doc says you have to stay here a bit longer.”
“I know.”
Gale bites his lip and nods, looking down at their joined hands.
“Hey,” Bucky whispers, prodding Gale to look at him again. “I’ll be alright.”
A fleeting, sad little smile crosses over Gale’s lips, blink and you’ll miss it. “I know.” He squeezes Bucky’s hand, and he decides right then and there that he believes it. Bucky will get better. He has to.
—
It’s not easy. Bucky gets worse before he gets better.
Gale feels like he’s stuck in a weird time loop, where every night and every early morning feels frighteningly similar. Bucky has nightmares or wakes in the dark, in pain and crying out. He panics when he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs, and the doctors consider intubating him one night, but manage to get his oxygen levels under control before it comes to that. Often, Bucky’s brain plays tricks on him, convinces him he’s on the moon or on Orion. The darkness and the brain fog leave him disoriented and anxious, not comprehending where he is, until a nurse helps Gale calm him down, gives him more sedative. Gale holds his hand or lays beside him, strokes his sweaty hair, presses his lips to the side of his head. He sings quietly or tells mundane stories until Bucky falls asleep again.
The days are better. With the sun streaming through the window in pastel rays that light up the room, Bucky is tired and lethargic, but coherent. He sleeps a lot, as much if not more than he did on Orion. When he’s awake, he talks as much as he can manage, but often loses his train of thought and seems to drift away. If he manages a conversation, the coughing often brings his contribution to an end, leaving his head pounding and his ribs protesting. Gale worries he’ll break one of those, too, if the cough doesn’t leave him alone.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” Bucky will say, when he catches Gale watching him with uncertainty all over his face. “I’m not dyin’.” But then he’ll be consumed by coughs, choking on his own breath.
He isn’t allowed visitors anymore due to the risk of exposing him to other germs, but when Gale isn’t around – or even sometimes when he is, just to give him a chance to get some air or some food – the nurses take to spending their breaks with Bucky. Most often, they take him on walks around the ward, pushing his wheelchair easily through the halls. They tell him about their day, and sometimes if he’s up to it, he tells them abridged stories about the moon or flying jets. One day Gale returns from JSC to find Bucky sitting in a wheelchair, one of the little rolling standing desks that doctors use lowered to his height. Nurse Clara sits in a rolling chair on the other side, and they both have a selection of playing cards in their hand.
“What’s this?” Gale asks as he removes his flight jacket, clutching it in one hand. He peeks at Bucky’s cards.
“Go fish,” Bucky replies, glancing up at him, and Gale notices that his eyes are clearer than they were in the morning. Bucky frowns as he slowly, laboriously convinces his fingers to grab onto the corner of a card, shakily laying it on the table.
Gale raises an eyebrow, and Clara smiles at him. “Just a little something to work on his fine motor control and keep his brain engaged.”
“I’m winning,” Bucky states proudly, and Gale kisses him on the head before going to sit on the couch, leaving them to it.
He never thought a game of Go Fish would make him want to cry.
During the worst moments, Bucky can become just as agitated as he was on Orion. He asks for Curt or Rosie or Beary Egan. He scrabbles at his IV, tries to pull it off, nearly succeeds once before Gale takes notice and makes him stop. He complains about his leg or the nausea or the pain in his head, and Gale can do nothing but be there, hold on tight, try to help him calm down. It’s those panicked moments in the middle of the night that leave Gale feeling bereft and alone, like he’s fighting single-handedly for Bucky’s survival. And even then he knows, it’s not even comparable to what Curt and Rosie went through, way out there on their own.
Gale was there – even if only in voice – every step of the way on Bucky’s journey home, but he is now made aware, in startling clarity, that he wasn’t there. No matter what information he got through the coms, none of it could really pull into focus the reality of working Bucky through this all day and night in real time. He may have been here, a voice in Bucky’s ear, doing his best from thousands of miles away. He may have been here, feeling alone on this blue planet as he grieved the potential loss of the man he loves. He may have been here, living the nightmare in his own way. But he wasn’t really there for the play by play. He didn’t see the extent of Bucky’s pain and disorientation. He didn’t wrangle him into a spacesuit or clean up his vomit or rush to keep him stable when he tore out his IV. He wasn’t there for the nightmares or the bouts of confusion or the refusals to eat or drink or generally cooperate. He wasn’t there.
But now he is. He’s getting a taste of all of it, trying to keep his husband from crumbling away.
Rosie drags him to the Hundred Proof one night for some quality time with friends, even though Gale protests the whole way and keeps insisting he needs to get back to Bucky. “You need to breathe, Buck,” Rosie tells him.
“He’ll be alright,” Curt adds. Just like everyone keeps telling him. “You need a break.”
Marge hugs him tight and gets him a glass of soda. Gale watches Rosie and Alex play a round of pool. He talks to Curt about anything that pointedly isn’t Artemis, but they inevitably fall into conversation about it anyway. Even so, Gale’s mind barely leaves the hospital the entire time he’s at the bar. Benny smacks him on the back at one point and tells him to get out of his own head.
When he gets back to the hospital that night, Gale is so exhausted that he feels dead on his feet. But he sits on the edge of Bucky’s bed, and he rests the back of his hand against Bucky’s forehead. Too warm still. The fever is going down, but hasn’t disappeared. He listens to Bucky’s strained breathing, marginally improved, and to the machine-echoed beep of his heart rate. Bucky has a new IV, held in place with even more tape than before to prevent him from pulling at it, and Beary Egan is cradled in the same arm.
Bucky scrunches his nose when Gale pulls gently at a soft curl over his forehead, and his eyes flutter open. His lips part to say something, but no words make it out of his sore throat.
Gale kicks off his shoes and slips into the bed, not even bothering to change out of the jeans and sweater he wore to the bar. Bucky’s fingers fumble at the button to raise the head of the bed, but he can’t quite manage in his groggy, half-asleep state, and Gale reaches over to help. The bed raises until they’re both more or less upright, Gale half curled around Bucky in the cramped space.
Gale’s phone buzzes with a text message from Curt – tell the idiot to get better soon – and he glances down at it. Bucky looks over at the lit up lock screen, and a hoarse noise comes from his throat that makes Gale look over. Bucky blinks and points to the phone. The screen. The photo on the screen.
“Our wedding,” he finally manages to shove out.
It’s the photo from their first look, with Bucky staring at Gale with such adoration it might consume him from the inside out
Gale never managed to get through the whole album, but he saved this one particular photograph as his phone background, because he couldn’t take his eyes off it any better than Bucky could take his eyes off Gale that day in October.
“Mmm.” Gale tilts the phone to better show Bucky. “This one’s my favorite so far. I haven’t looked at the whole album. Couldn’t without you.”
Bucky stares at the photograph, and a sweet little smile lights up his face, even in his exhaustion. “My beautiful bride.”
Gale is about to ask if he wants to look at a few more, but before he can, Bucky chokes on a breath and coughs violently, leaning forward, away from Gale. Gale puts the phone away and rests a hand on Bucky’s back, but the coughing fit only gets worse, until Bucky can hardly breathe at all. He wheezes between wet, desperate coughs, pressing his arm over his abdomen as the force threatens to crack a rib like Gale is so afraid it will.
When it finally subsides, Bucky is left curled over on himself, one hand wrapped over his stomach and the other clutching weakly at Gale’s hand. He’s drenched in sweat, every part of him ranging from sore to extreme pain, and there’s blood on his hand that he coughed up from his lungs. Gale grabs a napkin from the stand by the bed to wipe it off, and he wipes some sweat from Bucky’s forehead.
“Don’t feel good,” Bucky mutters.
Throwing the napkin to the side, Gale grabs the cup of water and offers it to Bucky, guiding the straw to his lips. “Try to drink,” he instructs. Bucky does as he’s told, but pulls away after a couple of sips, and Gale returns the water to the table.
“Come here,” he says. Gently, he eases Bucky back until he’s laying with his head on Gale’s chest. Gale holds tight to Bucky’s hand, and he strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You’re alright, darlin’. Just rest, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”
Bucky doesn’t protest, just grips Gale’s hand right back as he shakily tries to keep his breathing under control, wills the coughing to leave him alone for a little while. Eventually, Gale feels Bucky’s hand loosen its grip on his, falling lax as he drifts off to sleep once again.
It’s a long time before Gale allows himself to do the same. He can see the moon through the window, lighting up the night sky, and he has no idea what time it is, but it doesn’t matter. He once again doesn’t want to take his eyes off his husband even for a moment, like his continued existence is contingent on being in Gale’s line of sight. Or maybe it’s just that Gale spent so long unable to set eyes on Bucky, unsure if he ever would again, and now he can’t get enough. Making up for lost time and time he almost lost.
His fingers remain curled over Bucky’s, their hand’s resting on Bucky’s chest, and he feels the gentle, if shaky, rise and fall. He takes a deep breath of his own, as if it can somehow make up for the inadequacy of Bucky’s lungs, give strength to his body.
A song from Curt’s playlist comes to mind, and Gale finds himself singing it softly in the darkness as he holds his husband’s sweaty hand, willing the fever to break, the pain to go away. He wonders, if he stands guard in the night, will the nightmares leave Bucky in peace until morning comes?
“Ooh-ah, Soon you’ll get better,” Gale croons. He’ll stay up all night if he has to, if that’s what it takes for Bucky to rest easy.
“Ooh-ah, soon you’ll get better.”
He willed the universe to bring his husband home to him, and now he wonders if he’s being greedy, asking for more. But all he wants is Bucky to be safe and healthy again, free of pain, free of fear. He meant it when he said he’d love John Egan in any way, in any form, no matter what. But they’re so damn close.
Please. Just let him heal now. Let him rest. Let him come home. Give him this life as he wants to live it.
Please.
“You’ll get better soon.
‘Cause you have to.”
…
…
Everyone thank my beta reader (I don’t deserve them)
Part 18
#Bucky might stab someone with the fork#if he’s feeling cute#sorry there was a tiny bit more pain left#the healing process is long and not linear#It's all fine#beary egan#clegan astronaut au#clegan#to the moon and back#mota#masters of the air#john egan#gale cleven#clegan fic#buck x bucky#buck cleven#bucky egan
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