#Like I could almost hear him falling to his knees

[xenteaart]

the hard way

pairing: vampire!chris x to be vampire!reader genre/warnings: dark romance, mean chris, angst? kinda dead dove, mentions of death, blood and a lil gore (not too graphic tho imo), it's okay in the end??? and they're in love plot: reader is getting turned into a vampire and it's not as cool as she imagined author’s note: obvsly heavily inspired by railway and that SPITTING SCENE. idk it's prolly gonna flop but i wanted to picture that process and a not so hot side of it

“no.” “why not?!” “because i told you so a million times already. we’re not discussing this.” chris spits out and furrows, growing more agitated with each passing second.

“what, you don’t want me to be equal to you?” you ponder desperately while your mind searches for any, any reason at all as to why chris won’t turn you. it’s been getting to you for the last couple of months, and you’re sure you’ve gone through every possible explanation your troubled brain could come up with: he doesn’t love you. he doesn’t wanna spend eternity with you. or maybe it’s a power thing. or, or, or...? this endless cycle of worry and uncertainty has been keeping you on edge for way too long to think clearly now. “gosh, it has nothing to do with equality,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “what is it then?” “drop it.” you snap. “we’ll have to find out the hard way, then.”

you grab the nearest kitchen knife, and it turns out to be the one you use for cutting meat, a chef’s knife as they call it. how fitting. chris barely has enough time to catch up with your madness infused impulse, and when he turns his gaze back to you, the knife is already deep in your guts.

you thought it was gonna be romantic or somewhat dramatic at least. something from the movies where he sinks his vampire teeth into your neck, and just like magic — your eyes flash bright red, announcing the beginning of a new life.

“you dumb bitch,” he exhales shakily and somehow manages to catch you in time because the sharp pain in your stomach makes you lose your balance instantly. you’re still bitter and angry in the heat of the argument and you expect him to be the same way, but when you glance up, chris looks nothing but panicked. “that’s a new look on him,” you think, and it confuses you.

chris growls and sinks to his knees, carefully holding you and trying to move as fast as possible. what you don’t know is that turning can only be done in around thirty seconds since fatal injury. that might explain the rushing and chris’s pure bambi eyes panic but your consciousness is already starting to drift away to hold onto that train of thought.

chris bites into his wrist with unmasked fury, tearing and ripping his own veins even though using a knife would have been much cleaner. probably less painful, too. “swallow. now! come on, don’t you fall asleep on me now, focus!” he grabs your face and presses hard on the jaw joints, making you open your mouth like a puppet doll.

the sickly metallic taste of your own blood at the back of your throat from the internal bleeding mixes up with chris’s thick blood that he generously spits into your mouth, and you want to throw up. your head feels dizzy as your eyelids are getting heavier, your hearing suddenly fails completely as if someone turned the volume down from ten to zero. limbs are falling weak, and the pins and needles in them are so, so far from pleasant.

the thing about turning is... you actually have to die first. be fully, completely gone to be able to come back changed and corrupted, turned to the extent of your DNA having been violently rewritten. that you did not think through enough. the muscles in your throat contract almost on reflex, swallowing and gagging on the gooey salty substance, making your chest heave while coughing strangles you further. the tingles and nausea are so overwhelming and all consuming you actually catch yourself thinking dying would be a relief now. and then it follows as you wished.

you doze off for god knows how long but, by the looks of it, it can’t have been more than a few minutes because as you regain consciousness, chris is still looming over you, his own blood fresh on his lips. he’s blurry, though, everything is.

“come on, suck on me. c’mon, baby, there we go,” he coos as he brings his wrist to your lips, forcefully pressing it into your mouth and leaving you with little to no choice. the phrasing, unlike usual, doesn’t sound dirty or hot now, more like a life-saving command while you’re still so out it. it feels good, though, chris’s blood.

it doesn’t taste so metallic and gross anymore, and the texture feels almost soothing on your dry throat, like hot honey milk on a friday evening. suck, gulp, suck, gulp, suck, it almost lulls you back into serenity, some primal instinct of being attached to your only life line, finding comfort in someone’s warmth and touch and taste.

you wonder how much you’ve drunk already and whether chris will have anything left but you’re so, so thirsty you can’t even bring yourself to care.

what finally makes you stop is the sudden sharp ache in your gums. it feels so piercing the aftershocks are almost reaching your brain and eye sockets, and as you feel your old teeth fall out, a pair of longer fangs cuts through and settles into the upper teeth row. hot tears are stinging your eyes and you whine like a wounded deer, still unable to speak properly. it’s all too much, and you start to regret what you’ve done, and maybe, just maybe that’s why chris so passionately refused to put you through it. this kind of hunger and the animalistic, blood thirst driven rage were never something he wanted to inflict upon you.

your entire body is shaking but it’s not really a fearful tremor, more like restlessness, a new sort of “itch” somewhere deep, deep inside that you’ve never experienced before, the feeling so intense and soul wrenching you simply can’t disobey it. it makes you want to jump up and run.

“don’t worry, i’ll teach you how to handle it.” chris cups your face after taking off his leather gloves so you can feel the comfort of his actual skin. the touch is calming, but barely enough compared to that growing desire and need to satisfy the itch. “you stupid crazy cunt, why do you never listen,” he whispers into your forehead, his lips lightly brushing over your cold sweat covered skin, as he holds you closer, squeezing you against his chest in a protective manner, though the real danger to yourself is now planted within you.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

P.S. I Love You.

Summary: You suddenly receive letters that re open the wounds of grief. But they turn out for the better.

Warnings: ANGST, FLUFF, FLASHBACK

The call you hadn’t expected to receive came through your cell phone one hot, summer day in Charlotte. It changed the trajectory of your life from then on. A horrifying scream pierced the air, causing your mother to drop her coffee mug while sitting out in the yard, the ceramic glass shattering against cobblestone. When she’d found you in the kitchen, you were in the fetal position, body trembling as you wailed. She rushed to your aid, down on her knees with frantic eyes and a continuous chant of ‘what happened’ spilling from her lips.

“TERRY! HE’S GONE!”

The words didn’t seem real. When the tears came, hot and endless, you ached from the pain entering your world without the decency to knock first. Your mother’s words couldn’t be heard over your despair.

You cried as if your brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of your every pore. From your mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of your mother’s were suddenly wet with tears. You grabbed onto your mother, your violent shaking almost causing her to to fall flat and from your eyes came a thicker flow of tears the more you begin to understand.

Not Terry. It didn’t make sense for him to die. He was strong, the pinnacle of a man who in your eyes was unstoppable. No. This was a nightmare. You had to wake up from the nightmare. On that kitchen floor you questioned God. Your mother’s cries didn’t help calm you down. The whole world had vanished for you, now there was only pain enough to break you, pain enough to change you beyond recognition.

“No, no, no, no—”

Mike and Terry were killed in Shelby Springs, Louisiana. You refused to hear the details. Terry had a thing for saving his cousin from whatever he’d get himself involved in. You developed resentment against Mike and how he called on Terry to come to the rescue because he knew that he wouldn’t say no. Something in your gut told you that this time, he really shouldn’t leave.

Dried tears made your face feel tight and your eyes were blurry. Your chest burned and a nauseating sensation settled into your belly. You had your head in your mother’s lap on the sofa as the sun set. Across from you were your aunties and cousins, all silent and attempting to comfort you with soothing rubs and kisses to your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

“Everything will be okay…”

“I can’t believe this…”

“I wish this never happened to you.”

You’d forgotten what it felt like to speak.

Going back to your shared apartment would only reopen the fresh wounds.

His pictures.

His smell.

His clothes.

His side of the bed.

What’s worse is his parents wanted you to join them in traveling to Shelby Springs to bring his body back home. You were his fiancé. As terrified as you were, you knew it was the right thing to do. Your mother joined you on the journey and her support gave you the strength to walk into that morgue and see him. It was cold and eerie. The silence unnerving. As you enter with his parents, your eyes fall to a stainless steel table with a body covered in a sheet.

Your knees buckle and you stop suddenly, too weak and afraid to carry on. Everything was happening so fast. You’d gotten the call about Terry two days ago, and now you were here barely standing in a room for corpses. Your mother had her arms wrapped around you as you take slow steps towards the table. Heart hammering in your chest, you watch as the sheet lowered to reveal his face.

You’d lost the ability to stand.

He’d suffered. Haunting images of his battered face and chest littered with bullet holes frightened and angered you. Nothing can prepare you for something like this. He didn’t look like himself. Death changed him in ways you weren’t prepared to see.

Pale. Bruised. Lifeless. Still.

It was something you couldn’t even force yourself to see even during his funeral. And neither could his parents. After what felt like hours, you all were on your way back home with Terry, making arrangements for him to be cremated. After all, it was Terry’s wish. Intrusive thoughts flooded your mind the days leading to his memorial service.

Clearly, he suffered, but what was his last words? What was the last thing on his mind? Did he think of you? What had he eaten that morning?

The morning of his memorial service a few days later, you sat within your bedroom, burying your nose in his clothes and sniffing his cologne. You wanted his belongings, but it was evidence back in Shelby Springs. They were building a case on the corupt police there and if found guilty, a multi–million dollar paycheck would be given. For Mike and Terry. The teardrop diamond engagement ring on your finger twinkled in the sun as you sat surrounded by family and friends.

Behind your black shades, your puffy eyes stared at a photo of Michael and Terry. All smiles and laughter. Terry’s deep voice and adorable smile flooded your mind and it shook you to the core. His big arms circling your waist made you wrap your arms around yourself to mimick that feeling. The smell of his beard whenever you’d nuzzle your face against his neck.

His urn sat on a podium and when you’d gotten up to deliver a speech, you touched it. You’d pressed your lips against it. Taking a deep breath, you opened a folded piece of notebook paper to read from, but soon, you found that you couldn’t speak without your voice quivering. The distant sound of sniffles and encouragement was static noise.

Fuck this.

Your fingers began ripping the paper into shreds. Fuck a proper speech. Your person was stripped of life at the tender age of thirty two. He was a good man.

You part your lips to speak, “Terry Richmond is the love of my life…and I don’t know how I’m gonna live without him. This all feels like I’m being punished. How could god take someone like him away from me?”

You spoke those words truthfully. Yes, you were questioning God. Why him? Why Terry? Why not the ones who did this to him? Why not ANYONE who’s ever wronged him? Why did his cousin call him to help? Why did Terry go instead of staying with you?

Fuck the many stages of grief. You were filled with rage and sadness so powerful. There was no way you’d come to accept this. While others moved on, you would have a constant reminder that your soulmate was stripped from your life. A part of you wanted to join him. Wherever he was.

That’s how you felt for a long while, but as time progressed, because that’s what happens with life, Terry’s absence didn’t hurt as much. Of course, during special occasions it would trigger the grief, but you’d taken the time to speak to a therapist and talk about how his death affected you. That was a year ago.

Everything is recycled, or so that is what you see with your eyes. The atoms of one thing become those of another. The energy from one place becomes energy in another. So while you have no idea where he is, or what God asked him to become next, you’re looking forward to being with him again and you feel his love so strongly in the ether. So, call it reincarnation or recycling, you’re okay with whatever. Terry’s still somewhere, and that's what matters to you.

——

“Morning!”

You walked with a pep in your step towards your mailbox after your Pilates class. Something you’d always wanted to do but never had the courage to before. It’s expensive, but you loved it. Opening the mailbox, you don’t have much but credit card bills and junk mail. As you grab your mail, you notice a thick, distressed, stationary envelope fall to the floor within the lobby of your apartment building.

Your eyes follow the envelope facing downward. You crouch down to pick it up, the pain in your legs from Pilates causing you to groan. Once you were up, you lock your mailbox and head towards your elevators. On the ride up, you think about what you’d like to prepare for dinner. Maybe steak would be nice since you hadn’t eaten it in a while.

The doors slide open and you were out of the elevator and approaching your door. As you pushed it open, you were welcomed by your orange and white cat. The new decor courtesy of your cousin who is an interior designer gave an impression of something straight out of a catalog.

A promotion.

New Apartment.

New Car.

You were starting over. It felt good to do that. You still lived in Charlotte, but letting go of the things that triggered your grief was the best way for you to move forward.

You’d kicked off your running shoes and sat the mail down on the living room table to go through. As you flipped through, the envelope caught your eye. Fancy penmanship covered the front and as your eyes scanned, your body became rigid. Your heart sank to your stomach.

From: Terry

To: My Beautiful Fiance’

You blink twice to see if this was real and what you were actually reading.

How is this possible?

As you sat on your sofa, your eyes began to flood with tears. Was someone pulling a sick joke or did Terry actually write you a letter? So many questions and a lot of confusion. You could feel your tears trickling down your cheeks and over your lips the more you stared at the envelope.

So much for getting better. The fear you felt at that moment alone in your apartment is what stopped you from opening the letter. You place it down on the coffee table and wrap your arms around you. Your cat nudged you against your leg and as you look down, her yellow eyes stared back with a softness that helped to calm you.

Terry had gifted you this cat for your birthday a year ago.

Shortly before he’d left for Shelby Springs.

She nudged you again and you felt it was her way of telling you to open the envelope. With one shaky hand, you grab the envelope from the coffee table and use your almond-shaped finger nail to open it. Inside is a folded piece of paper. You retrieve it and open it slowly, heart racing. Black ink and cursive.

Hey, baby.

Surprise. I know this probably feels a little bit morbid... But I just hate the idea that I'm not gonna be there to see you freak out over turning 30. I mean, it kills me not to be there. Heh-heh. That's funny. Okay. No, it's not. You're gonna be so impressed. I have a plan, baby. Can you believe it? I've written you letters. Letters that will be coming to you all sorts of ways. I waited till your birthday. I figured you weren't stepping out of the house for a while. Letter number one will be arriving tomorrow. Now, you gotta do what I say, okay? Don't try to figure out how the letters are coming. It's too brilliant and it'll ruin my plan. Just go along with me on this. Because the thing is, I just can't say goodbye yet. So for starters. I want you to get dolled up, and just go out and celebrate tonight. Go out with your girls. I hereby free you from a party with your family, especially your mom. I’m Sorry, I couldn’t be there, baby. I’m a need you to get a little crazy. So have a slice of cake, put on my favorite dress and get out of the apartment. Y/N, make a plan. For me, okay? And know that wherever I am, I'm missing you. Happy birthday.

P.S

I love you.

You wept silently, your tears blotching the paper. You shut your eyes tight and allow yourself to cry with a bounce of your shoulders and an aching feeling of sorrow. As you read the letter, you could hear his deep vibrato. You pictured him sitting somewhere on a hammock writing to you. Surrounded by the wild and reminded of how it was his peace. 

Bringing the paper to your nose, you smell the parchment and try your best to catch his scent. It only smelled of paper with its lignin aroma. Sniffling, you wipe away snot and tears before placing the paper on the coffee table, carefully folding it. Your birthday was indeed tomorrow and you had only planned to have dinner with your mom at her place. Just the two of you.

Your friends had suggested going out for drinks, but the thought of partying and being surrounded by so many people overstimulated you in the worst way. You couldn’t bring yourself to go out and enjoy life and what it has to offer when your forever person is six feet under. Trying your best to shake those thoughts from your mind, you meditate. Calming your breath and releasing the tension from your muscles. This was something you’d never stop doing.

Opening your eyes, you blink to adjust to the blurry view. Too emotional, you finally stand from the sofa because you were unable to read the letter again. After taking a long shower, you start on dinner with a vinyl record playing. While flipping your steak, the sensation of strong hands trapping your waist caused a shiver to slither down your spine. You drop the spatula and touch where you’d felt it, body seizing up in fear. Sharp breaths escaped your mouth.

Your mind was most definitely playing tricks on you. Terry loved to creep up behind you while you were cooking to touch on you and kiss you neck. He’d whisper in your ear because he knew that his voice drove you crazy no matter ther octave. That ghostly sensation triggered nostalgic memories of what it felt to be wrapped up within the embrace of Terry Richmond.

“SHIT—”

You rush to the stove to check on your steak. The hot grease popped your arm painfully, causing you to groan. You finish your steak and plate it with your broccolini and mashed potatoes. Some wine sounded great. You open your drink cabinet and soon realize how high up the wine is. On your tip toes, you reach up, struggling to grab a bottle of red wine. Fingertips touching the cork, you strain, one knee on the counter now.

“Nah…whatchu doing, baby?”

Terry plucked the bottle from the top shelf with ease because of his towering height compared to yours. You give him a dirty look, snatching the wine from his hand. Terry gave you a lazy smirk with low eyes. He looked oh so delectable in his white T-shirt and bootcut jeans.

“That’s how you do me when I come to the rescue, munchkin?”

“I could have gotten it, T,” you roll your eyes.

“When I’m around you know I get everything in the high places, Y/N. Fix your face,” Terry pecks your forehead, “C’mon so we can eat this good steak. I’m tryna see you model that new lingerie.”

Terry backed away with a bite of his bottom lip and a wink. Instantly, your frustration melted away and you couldn’t fight the urge to smile…

Blinking, you bring your attention back to the present. Of course, you have a step stool in the pantry. You retrieve it and place it on the floor. Stepping up, you succeed in grabbing a bottle of red wine. You scan the label before sitting it on the kitchen counter to pour yourself a heaping glass. Sitting on the bar stool, you eat your food and try your best to forget that sudden recollection.

It was so hard to forget. Everything about him was so hard to put away forever. Goosebumps on your skin, vivid memories of how he’d undressed you, talked you through it, admired you, professed how much he’d loved you. Over and over. You take a sip of your wine, fingers trembling around the stem.

That letter triggered everything.

——

The morning of your birthday was uneventful. You woke up later than you’d expected, phone buzzing on its wireless charger with texts wishing you happy birthday. Wiping the crust from your eyes, you roll over onto your belly, snatching up your phone. Friends and family flooded your inbox and created social media posts.

You’re thirty.

You’d think it would feel so odd saying that. Honestly, it didn’t feel any different. Sitting up in bed now, you reply to everyone before climbing out of bed. After your usual morning routine, you make yourself a quick breakfast before heading to your mom’s house. You planned to cook dinner with her and catch up.

The drive over took about forty minutes. You spotted your mother grabbing mail from the mailbox in her robe and slippers. She waved to you happily while standing on the porch. You pull behind her SUV and put the car in park. Stepping out, you give your mother a big, toothy grin before rushing over to embrace her.

“My baby! Happy Birthday!”

You squeeze her tightly, the smell of her scented lotion comforting you.

“I’m glad you’re here. I still have some hot breakfast on the stove.”

“Mama, I ate already.” You reply with a smile.

“You may get hungry again, come on.”

You enter your childhood home to the smell of grits, biscuits, bacon, and eggs. Suddenly, your stomach starts rumbling. Maybe you’ll have a small plate.

“I just had to run out and check the mail—”

You paused your curiosity at the cake your mother baked you when a gasp could be heard. You turn and spot your mother with a hand over her mouth and eyes wide.

“Mama, what is it?”

“Wha–there’s a letter here–from Terry—”

You rush over, taking it from your mother’s hands. She tried to snatch it back but you had your back turned.

“Y/N—”

Hey, Mama.

It’s Terry. Make sure my baby has a good time. Make sure you do everything you wanna do, whenever you wanna do it. And make sure my baby does things. I want you to take her to all the places she’d wanted to go. And be sure to give her a big kiss for me. She’s my special girl.

Love you.

“What does it say?”

Your mother lingered behind you with caution. You read the words a final time before turning, holding out the paper for her. She gripped the edge carefully and it slipped from your grasp. You could feel your knees getting weak, so you flop down into a dining chair. Your mother read the words allowed, her voice trembling.

“I wonder who sent this?” Sniffling, your mother turned the paper over, “it’s been a year.”

“I got a letter in the mail yesterday.” You revealed.

Your mother took a seat across from you. She placed the letter on the table, pressing out the folded line to make it straighter.

“It’s his handwriting for sure,” Your mother stroked the penmanship, “This is so eerie…”

“He’d planned this. Maybe he had a feeling that his days were numbered when he’d left for Louisiana…”

You stand, pacing back and forth. Your mother folded her hands against the table as she watched you.

“Even so, why would he leave? Why would he leave if he had a feeling—”

“Maybe he didn’t.” Your mother said.

“No, the way he worded these letters…it’s as if he’s speaking like he knew he was going to die—”

Your mother put up a hand, “Okay, that’s enough—”

“It’s never going to be enough! It’s never going to be the same!”

You feel your eyes welling up with tears. You release a shuddering breath and try your best to calm your nerves.

“It’s your special day, baby. Please don’t get yourself worked up. Terry wouldn’t want that.”

It didn’t matter what he’d want anyway. He’s gone.

“I need a second.”

You turn on your heels, making your way towards your old bedroom. Inside, you shut the door and settle into your old bed. Kicking off your shoes, you gather the sheets over your body and hide yourself from view. Tears rolled over your nose as you stare at the floral patterns stitched into your comforter.

Your mother is right, this is supposed to be your special day. You’re supposed to be happy and celebrating. Not crying and sad. Not that it wasn’t okay to be sad, but Terry wrote two letters expressing how he’d wanted you to enjoy turning thirty and make the most of it.

Uncovering yourself, you slip from the bed and walk over to your dresser. Opening the top, right drawer, you retrieve a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. Your emergency stash…

“Come on..”

You opened your bedroom door, darkness awaiting you ahead. Distant chatter and laughter from your relatives became muffled when your boyfriend, Terry slipped in behind you before shutting the door. You stumble your way towards the lamp on your end table, flicking it on and igniting the room with a low ambiance. Terry stood with his back pressed against the door, a wrinkled white dress shirt on with black slacks. You had on a navy blue summer dress.

Everyone gathered at your mom’s place after a funeral service for your great aunt May. You didn’t like the woman much. She’d always been hard on you and favored your cousins. Terry walked around your room, eyeing old photographs from your high school days. The sound of your drawer opening caught his attention and he made his way over toward you. With a finger pressed to your lips, you pull out a bottle of tequila that you’d snagged from your parents liquor cabinet.

You were of age to drink, but after being around your family, you needed to sneak a little something. Terry chuckled and shook his head before accepting a shot glass that you’d gotten from a trip to Canun. You pour some in each one before clinking glasses, some of the tequila spilling over the rim and causing both of you to laugh.

You knock back the drink and while your face scrunched at the taste, Terry simple smiled at you.

“Burns, doesn’t it?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I don’t really like this one.”

“Don’t let me find out you can’t handle alcohol.”

“Shut up.”

Terry approached you. Your smile wavered, eyes blinking up at him slowly. The smell of his cologne lingered in your nose. He eyed you down before taking the bottle from your hand.

“I think we should get outta here before your mama comes looking for us,” Terry said.

“Afraid to be alone with me in my room, TJ?” You tease.

Terry chuckled, bringing his face closer to yours.

“I’m afraid of what I might do to you if I stay in here any longer. We both know how loud you can get…”

Standing in your room with that shot glass from Cancun in your hand, you recall that night. You hadn’t washed the glass afterwards, just put it away. You fill it and toast to being thirty before drinking it down in one motion. You were reminded of how bad it tasted but it was worth it.

You put it away before fixing yourself back up to join your mother. She was in the kitchen prepping for dinner when you walked out. She’d heard your footsteps and paused cleaning the collards to look at you.

“I’m sorry for lashing out on you.” You apologized.

Your mother gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re better.”

You walk into her arms and she wrapped them around you.

“It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry.”

“I know,” you shut your eyes, “We had so many plans for my birthday.”

“I know,” your mother held your face as she looked at you, “And you can keep that memory and enjoy yourself. Surround yourself with the people that love you. Go out and have a good time tonight. Shake some tail and get drunk!”

You laugh and roll your eyes.

You can almost feel the hangover in the morning.

——

“HE DON’T WANNA BE SAVED DON’T SAVE HIM! THAT IS NOT MY NIGGA DON’T CLAIM HIM!”

You rap to the lyrics, the trap beat driving you to shake ass and get low. Birthday sash over your body like a pageant girl and birthday crown on your head, you make the most of your thirtieth birthday at the lounge with your girls as they hype you up.

“GO Y/N! GO Y/N! GO Y/N!”

You felt sexy in your red dress with a plunging neckline that hugged your curves. Strappy stilettos dawned your pretty feet and you’d done a full makeup look. You felt good and looked good, turning heads and drawing attention. Another shot made its way into your hand and you drank it down as your girls cheered you on.

“Woah woah, birthday girl!” Your girlfriend, Candace had to help you because you would have face planted the table covered in drinks, “Take a seat, Princess!”

“I’m too hype to sit! This music is fire!” You drunkenly shout.

“And too pretty and valuable to end up in the ER!” Another friend by the name of Marsha yelled over the music.

You wave them off but sit anyway. A bottle of water was thrust into your hands and you accept it, drinking down half.

It felt good to get out and have a good time. Two years is a long time. Being surrounded by loyal friends warmed your heart. The drunkenness was going to make you cry but you refused to ruin your makeup. They’d been there to protect and support you through it all. You look at each one of them, a big smile on your face.

“What is it?!” A friend named Nancy asked.

“I JUST LOVE YOU GUYSSSSSS!!!!”

You open your arms with a pout of your lip and they all get up to hug you.

“I needed this!” You dab your eyes with a napkin, careful not to ruin your eye makeup, “After everything with Terry, I didn’t know what it felt like to have fun and let loose.”

“IM GLAD YOU DECIDED TO STEP OUT! TERRY WOULDV’E WANTED THAT!”

Curious, you lean into Marsha to speak to her closely.

“Did you ever…receive a letter from Terry?”

Marsha’s eyes grew wide. Your other girls came in close to see what was going on.

“You did, didn’t you?” You asked.

“…I—yes. We all did. We…we didn’t want to tell you because we didn’t want trigger anything—”

“Please don’t be upset!” Nancy begged, “We didn’t want to make you sad.”

Candace sat in silence staring at you.

“I’m not upset! It’s okay!”

“You sure?” Candace questioned, grabbing your hands.

“Totally! What did it say?”

They each shared a look.

“It sad something along the lines of making sure we look after you and that he wants you to make the most of your birthday and life and have fun and not worry about him. He said that he loved us and appreciated us for always being there for you.” Marsha revealed.

Candace and Nancy nodded their heads in agreement.

“Wow,” you give your friends a drunken smile, “He wrote you guys too. I miss him so much…”

Marsha strokes your back while Nancy fanned your face to cool you down. You release a meditating breath before laughing.

“Terry always had a trick up his sleeve! How he managed to pull this all off is amazing to me!”

When they realized you weren’t sad, they joined in on the laughter.

“He was always a man on a mission! You remember how he got you, right?” Candace said.

“Had that man showing up to your job with flowers! Took you on fifty first dates like your favorite movie!” Nancy recalled.

“He knew what he wanted and he didn’t hesitate! That’s a man right there! God created only one Terry Richmond for a reason! That shit can’t be replicated!”

“I know that’s right!” Marsha shouted.

“Let’s toast to Terry and his forever love for our girl!”

With new shots, you all raise a glass and look towards the ceiling before tapping it against the table and drinking it down.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. You were dropped off to your apartment and tucked in. Your alarm went off, waking you up with a raging headache and a dry mouth. Your makeup stained your pillow and the smell of bacon wafted your nose. You sit up abruptly, looking around with crusty eyes.

“TERRY?!”

Your loud voice alerted whoever was in your apartment and several footsteps could be heard outside your door. Marsha, Candace, and Nancy came in wearing t-shirts and panties with spatulas in their hands.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Candace asked with a worried look.

“I…”

You look around, swallowing spit with difficulty.

“What’s wrong?” Candace placed a hand on your knee.

“I must of been having a nightmare.”

You scratch your head and plaster on a smile.

“I’m okay. I smell bacon!”

Candace stood up to let you out of bed. You skip towards your bathroom to brush your teeth.

“We’ll be out in the kitchen, Y/N!”

“Okay!”

The door shut behind them and you stare at your reflection, the running water filling your ears. You were used to waking up to the smell of bacon whenever Terry cooked you breakfast. You brush your teeth and clean your face, putting your hair up into a bun before exiting your room.

As you make your way into the living room, your eyes light up when you notice a large bouquet of red roses dusted with glitter. Your friends enter the living room, filling you in on the surprise being left at your door. You admire and smell the roses before retrieving a card that was attached to the vase.

Taking a seat, you open it, staring down at a pretty birthday card. Opening the card, two plane tickets fall out and there are written words on the inside.

Dear Y/N,

You know I had to get you red roses! Remember how we always talked about visiting Jamaica? Well, here’s two tickets. I have family there and I want you to stay with them and make the most of a good time. Take your mother with you. I know that would make you happy. When you get there, you’ll be able to visit all my favorite places. Happy Birthday my special angel.

P.S,

I Love You.

You were so drawn into the card that you hadn’t realized your friends were reading too. They wiped away tears and admired your pretty roses. You smiled, the tickets in your lap. They each hug you tight, causing you to cry. For once, they were tears of joy. You couldn’t wait to surprise your mother with the ticket. She’d always wanted to go to Jamaica.

——

Soft white sand beneath your toes.

Turquoise water stretching out for miles.

Palm trees swaying from the warm breeze.

Red, green, and yellow dress wrapped around your body snugly.

Your faux locs brushed across your back, the hair charms tickling your skin. You turn to pick up your coconut, bringing the straw to your lips and sucking down the delicious water.

The smell of ackee and saltfish wafted your nose. The spices traveling from the open patio doors that led into the compound. Bob Marley serenaded you as you sway in your spot.

Terry had cousins in Montego Bay that welcomed your mother and you with open arms. An entire compound surrounded by the beach. They cooked tasty Caribbean dishes everyday and you got a good tan whenever you could. There were jeeps on the compound and your mother and you would drive out to town to shop and do tourist activities.

Being surrounded by Terry’s relatives brought out a comfort you hadn’t felt in a while. You’d see his parents from time to time, spoke with them everyday, but his mother brought out a sadness in you that you tried to avoid. In Jamaica, you were filled with laughter. They showed you photos of Terry in his youth. Big ears, goofy smile, deep tan, and a surfboard in his hands.

You had a letter waiting for you.

This is where I sat thinking about you after the very first time we met. You didn't look real to me at first. I never saw so many colors on one girl before... But you looked like you belonged out there, all right. You and all your colors. Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me? ("I'm lost.") Oh, you didn't look lost, not to me. At first, the no-talking thing didn't last. Before long, I couldn't get you to shut up. But you were so cute, trying to impress me with all your grand plans. I had no idea what you were talking about... I didn't have a clue, actually. I loved you right then and there. Life had changed as I knew it. And now it's changed again, love. See, I don't worry about you remembering me... It's that girl on the road you keep forgetting. "My business is to create. It doesn't even matter what you do." You told me that, remember?

P.S.

So go home. Go find it. Find that thing that makes you like nobody else. You’re unique.

“Y/N! You hungry?”

You turn, shielding your eyes from the sun rays. Your mother stood on the patio with a drink in her hand. Your stomach rumbled as you pushed yourself up from the sand, brushing the grains from your dress. You jog over, trying to avoid your feet from reacting to the hot sand. Slipping on your sandals, you climb and take a seat on a patio chair. The table was covered with all the foods you’d grown to love on your trip. You help yourself to a few pieces of plantain first.

Around your neck is one of Terry’s necklaces from his child hood. A handcrafted, wooden, beaded necklace with the colors of the Jamaican flag. Your mother sat next to you and made your plate for you. Terry’s great aunt, uncle, and cousins joined you. This was your last day in Jamaica and tonight there would be a farewell ceremony.

“Dig in!” Terry’s Aunt Chandice said. She had carob skin that glistened like onyx stone in the sun with thick locs that almost touched her ankles. His uncle Sean reminded you of Terry with his green eyes and striking features. He too had long locs that he wore in a bun.

His cousins were older than you but only by a few years. Two boys and a girl. Chris, Tarone, and Raeni.

You learned that the two boys and Terry used to compete in surf competitions. Raeni was into music and dance. During your trip she’d taught you how to move your hips and she even dragged you to a club or two where you let loose with her friends.

“You’ll come back, yeah?” Aunt Chandice asked while they cleared the table.

“Of course!”

You loved it there. You didn’t want to leave.

After lunch, you took a long nap and afterwards you went for a swim. The hours ticked on and soon it was ceremony time. All of you dressed in all white as you stood on the beach, torches lit beneath the sunset. You brought out a small tightly sealed canister filled with some of Terry’s ashes. Handing it over to Uncle Sean, you stand back and watch them have their own traditional memorial ceremony to honor Terry.

Fresh tears cascaded down your cheeks while Aunt Chandice, Raeni, and your mom comforted you. Uncle Sean soon asked you to step forward with the others, each of you taking turns to pour his ashes into the sea. A piece of Terry sprinkled in places that he’d loved. You danced and laughed, twirling around and picturing Terry’s soul watching you from the clouds with a proud smile.

After many cups of rum, you retreat to your room, falling in bed and staring out at the moon. Sleep overcame you and as you drifted off, you dreamed of being in a boat, slowly floating under the moon. Strong arms circled you and the smell of sea spray tickled your nose. You open your eyes and look up, a pair of eyes that reminded you of the Caribbean Sea staring back at you.

“Terry Richmond.” You whisper.

“Y/N.” 

He’s shirtless with white linen pants on.

“What do you love most about Jamaica?”

“It’s a part of you…it’s a home away from home.”

Terry hummed, stroking your arm.

“Are you happy?”

Terry peered down at you. He sat up on his elbow, hovering above you, the moonlight creating a glow that surrounded him. You reach up to stroke his sculpted cheek.

“I am. More now that I know you’re okay.”

“It’s not easy,” Your eyes shine with tears, “I’m going to miss you forever.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Terry gave you a reassuring smile, “I’ll always miss you.”

Terry closed the distance between you two and his soft lips that tasted of mangoes and saltwater molded into yours perfectly. You stroke his broad back with your fingertips, electricity sparking your heart. The kiss went from patient to fervent, Terry’s hands in your hair, stroking the pattering of your butterfly locs. His tongue flicked yours and he sucked on your lips hungrily.

“Baby, baby,” Terry spoke against your lips, forehead against yours, “I have to go…I love you.”

“No…don’t leave me…”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him more. Terry grunted into your mouth. You stroke his tanned skin, squeezing his muscles and molding your hands against his body to feel as much of him as you could before it was too late.

It was already too late. But this felt so real.

It felt as if you were grabbing air.

“Terry…no…please.”

“I love you, Y/N…”

Shooting up from the bed, you feel around, trying to grab a hold of something. Anything. You look around, the reality of where you were settling over you like a weighted blanket. You clutch your chest, sweaty skin beneath your palm. With your other hand, you touch your lips. Shutting your eyes, you see the last images of Terry before they faded away.

It was him. It had to be him.

He visited you in your dreams. He’s happy. He’s in heaven. You smile as tears roll down your cheeks.

Acceptance.

——

Dear Y/N,

I don't know how much time I’ll have left with you in this world. I don't mean literally, I mean you're out buying ice cream and you'll be home soon. But I have a feeling this is the last letter, because there is only one thing left to tell you. It isn't to go down memory lane or make you buy a lamp, you can take care of yourself without any help from me. It's to tell you how much you move me, how you changed me. You made me a man, by loving me Y/N. And for that, I am eternally grateful... Literally. If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you're sad, or unsure, or you lose complete faith, that you'll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my fiancé. I'm a man with no regrets. How lucky am I. You made my life, baby. But I'm just one chapter in yours. There'll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one. Don't be afraid to fall in love again. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends.

P.S.

I will always love you.

All of his letters.

You sat on your living room floor with a glass of wine on his birthday. This letter you hadn’t opened months prior, wanting to save it for his special day. He would have been thrity–three. You stare at a framed photo of Terry in his MCMAP attire surrounded by recruits with a big smile and a sweaty face. You’d cut your hair and got a couple tattoos honoring him. One of which was on your butt. That made you giggle. Maybe you would fall in love again someday. Maybe not.

There’s only one Terry Richmond.

Grabbing a pen, you open a notebook and start writing your own letter. It was more so for closure. When you think of Terry now, you smile and reminisce on what it felt like to be with him. You cherish the memories and created new ones.

Dear Terry,

you said you wanted me to fall in love again... And maybe one day I will, but there are all kinds of love out there. This is my one and only life... And it's a great and terrible and short and endless thing... And none of us come out of it alive. I don't have a plan except that it's time my mom laughed again. She's never seen the world. She's never seen The Botanical Garden, so I'm taking her there to where we started. Maybe now she'll understand. I don't know how you did it, but you brought me back from the dead. I'll write to you again soon.

P.S.

Guess what.

The End

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter r @dashhoney25

[twirlyleafs]

Falling apart, together.

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: part 2 to Falling apart, alone. Landos still struggling, but maybe he’s willing to accept the support?

TW: bad mental health

Notes: thank you so much for the response on the first part!! xx

~~~~

That night the house felt impossible quiet. P held you tightly for what felt like forever, her hands running soothingly up and down your back. The tension lingered in the air like an unwelcome guest. Max sat across from where you curled up against his girlfriend, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, face contorted in frustration. No one said anything for what felt like forever, each one of you too deep in your own spiraling minds, until the sound of movement in the kitchen cut through the silence. The following sound of the front door opening had all of you freeze, breaths caught in your throats. No one moved, not until the low rumble of the car engine filled the space. Your stomach sank as you heard the car pull out of the driveway, the sound growing fainter until it disappeared. With it Lando. You didn’t dare look up at P or Max, afraid that the emotions on their faces matched what you were feeling too. Pietra was the first to move, her grip on you loosening as she instead dragged her hand through your curls. Max sat stiffly, hands now clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

”Fuck.” Max muttered, voice thick. ”Fuck I- I should’ve stopped him. Should I have stopped him? From leaving?” At the anguish in his voice you lifted your head, pulling away slowly from Pietra. Max looked at you, searching for an answer, and you carefully shook your head.

“I don’t think that would’ve made it better.”

”If he wanted to leave he would’ve left anyway, maybe only more upset.” Pietra agreed and you nodded again. Max stared at the two of you for a moment before he nodded too. Once again silence settled between you. Eventually the weight of the evening became too much to bear and you forced yourselves to move, even though none of you really wanted. All of you paused in the hallway and Pietra wrapped you up in her arms, ensuring you everything would be okay, before she slipped into hers and Maxs shared bedroom. Max paused before following her, eyes lingering on you. Eventually he reached an arm out, snaking it over your shoulders and pulling you against his chest.

”We’ll get through to him. I promise.” The promise was nice but his voice was heavy with concern and guilt. ”I just, I’m glad I’m not alone this time. I’m glad he has you, too.”

The bed felt cold and almost foreign as you crawled in under the covers. The loneliness was bad on its own already but the faint trace of Landos scent on the pillow had your chest ache. Reaching for your phone you swallowed harshly, desperate to keep the pressing tears at bay to be able to see your screen clearly. You wrote out the text, hesitating for only a moment before hitting send. Seeing the text go through gave you a bit of relief and despite not expecting a response you at least knew you had done everything you could. After a final glance at the text you let out a deep breath, locking your phone before curling up on his pillow.

Be safe. I love you.

The night dragged on and with every passing moment you longed more and more for sleep, even though it felt very far away. You were alert, hearing the sound of the car coming back even before it pulled to a stop. Staying completely still, barely breathing, you listened to Lando opening and closing the front door. You curled tighter into yourself, straining to pick out every sound. He didn’t come upstairs right away, instead there was the faint creak of floorboards and the soft clink of something in the kitchen. Your mind started to race, what was he doing down there? Minutes dragged on, each one feeling longer than the other until suddenly, silence. The absence of sound made your chest tighten. Was he staying down there? You desperately wanted, needed, to see him. See that he was okay. But you were afraid you’d scare him away again if you went looking. Although, the thought of him sitting alone down with only his own mind as company had you want to cry again. Pressing your eyes shut you clutched the duvet. Just as you were starting to convince yourself that he wouldn’t come the softest creak of the bedroom door broke through the room. Your heart jumped, the lump in your throat growing, but you stayed completely still. You felt more than heard his movements, the mattress dipping gently under his weight as he sat down on the edge. Lando stayed there for a moment, sitting in complete silence as if he was preparing himself while you stayed with your back turned towards him. You knew he could tell you were awake but you didn’t dare say anything, involuntarily treating him like a scared animal. Finally he shifted, slipping in beneath the covers with careful and deliberate motions. Everything seemed to move in slowmotion and once again it felt like forever with nothing. Not a sound, not a move. Then suddenly you felt it. The softest touch of his fingertips against the back of your arm, so light you thought you might’ve imagined it if it wasn’t for the way your whole body shivered. The touch was tentative, making it clear he was just as scared as you were, but it was enough. It was an apology without words, a plea for comfort he couldn’t quite get out in words yet. You turned slowly, your gaze meeting his in the darkness. His eyes were red-rimmed, probably matching yours, and you could see the tension in his brows. Jaw. Shoulders. The vulnerability in his posture was unmistakable. Without another thought you reached out, carefully stroking a curl from his face. You could hear his breath hitch and for a few seconds you both stayed frozen until he finally let out a shaky breath. A moment later he was leaning in, his body curling against yours with a desperation that made your chest ache. Lando practically clung to you, and you did your best to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Keeping him safe. Your fingers found their way into his hair, threading through the soft curls, and his grip on you only tightened. As if he was afraid you might pull away.

”I’m not going anywhere baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, muffled against his skin, and you felt his uneven breath against your neck. He didn’t cry, but the tremor in his exhales told you enough. This wasn’t the strong, playful and confident Lando you were used to. This was the part of him he rarely showed, the part that felt small and lost. The part that desperately wanted help but couldn’t ask for it. As you pressed your lips to his temple you felt him sink deeper into your embrace, body slowly relaxing at least a bit. You didn’t speak more, didn’t need to. Instead you just held him, offering the safety you knew he needed. Offering to remove some of the weight he constantly put on his own shoulders. You didn’t need to fix him, you just needed to promise him he wouldn’t have to face anything alone. Ever.

—————————

You stirred awake to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, pressing your eyes shut tighter. You didn’t want to wake up, not yet, the exhaustion from yesterday still lingering. Instinctively you reached for him, fingers only finding the coldness off the empty mattress and immediately making your stomach sink. He was gone. Turning around you laid there for a while, staring at the empty slot next to you where Lando had been. He had, right? He had come home in the middle of the night, you couldn’t have imagined the way he clung to you. Right? You took your time getting up, dragging yourself through the routines of the morning before slowly making your way downstairs. When you entered the kitchen Pietra and Max were already there. P sat at the kitchen bar, nursing her coffee, while Max leaned against the counter. Both their heads snapped up to look at you, concern and curiosity clear on their faces.

”Did you see him?” Max cut straight to the chase, obviously having heard as Lando came back in the middle of the night too. You nodded softly, accepted the cup he offered you. Staring down into it you sighed.

”Yeah. I didn’t think he would come to bed but he did. He-” you paused, feeling almost bad for spilling your intimate moment with Lando but also knowing Max needed the reassurance. He deserved to know, needed to know Lando was if not doing better at least not pushing you away as harshly. ”He let me hold him. We didn’t talk but-” you trailed off when you met Maxs gaze, a mixture of relief and sadness.

”Good. That’s good.”

”He’s out running now. I met him on his way out.” Pietra explained. You nodded but didn’t respond, the words lodging somewhere in your throat. Despite the nights small victory yesterday’s tension lingered in the air, heavy and almost suffocating, and none of you said anything else after that. Together you filtered out on the back porch, breakfast plates in hand, and settled into the soft lounge furniture. The view was beautiful, sunlight spilling over the hills beyond the garden, the distant sound of birds chirping, the water in the small pond glistening. It all felt somehow muted though. You picked at your food, mostly pushing it around on your plate. P occasionally shot you a glance, her lips pressed into a thin line as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it. The second Max was finished with his breakfast he’d wandered down towards the pond, saying something about needing some time alone, and was now sprawled out on the grass letting the sun warm his body. You felt for him. He’d been through this before, although not as bad as now, and you could see the toll it took on him to constantly worry about Lando. He’d been his protector for years, since they were kids, and you couldn’t be more grateful for him always sticking around. You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t noticed the door sliding open, not realizing Lando was joining you until he slowly sank down in the couch opposite you. His hair was damp, probably fresh out of the shower, and curling in soft swirls over his forehead. You could tell he was nervous, uncomfortable, by the way he didn’t relax into the chair like he normally would. Instead his posture was stiff and uncertain as his eyes flickered between you and Pietra. P watched him for a moment before she stood.

”I’ll go and keep Max company.” Neither you nor Lando answered but you saw the way he tried to offer her a grateful smile when she passed him. P paused for just a second, letting her hand land on his shoulder before she disappeared down into the garden. The gesture was light, quick, but meaningful and you felt your heart swell at the sight. The warm feeling in your chest was brief, quickly replaced by a sense of worry again when Lando slowly met your gaze across the table. He shifted in his seat, fingers restlessly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. You didn’t push him. Finally he exhaled, voice quiet but clear as he spoke.

”I’m sorry.” You swallowed hard, letting the words settle between you before speaking up. Your own voice was soft, careful as not to frighten him.

”Do you want to talk about it?” He hesitated, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shorts as his eyes flickered away from your face for a moment. His jaw clenched and you almost feared he might retreat entirely, shutting down the conversation before it even began, but then he nodded.

”I don’t want to,” he admitted reluctantly. ”But I know I probably should.” You didn’t answer, giving him space to find his own words. He stared down at the coffee table for a moment, gaze distant, before he carefully began to speak again. ”It’s hard to explain, I guess. I feel like there’s this…pressure, all the time. Like I can’t stop, can’t slow down. If I do…” he trailed off, shaking his head is if he regretted his words. You shifted in your chair, letting your feet drop down on the floor so you could lean forward. Lando met your gaze again and you offered an encouraging nod. With a deep breath he continued. ”It’s, I guess it feels like I’m constantly running on a treadmill and no matter how fast I go it’s never enough. There’s always more to prove, more people to please, more to do. If I stop…” his voice cracked and he swallowed hard. ”If I stop everything will fall apart.” Your heart ached at the rawness of his confession, of the pain and fear on his face.

”You feel like you’re carrying everything on your own?” You offered gently, hoping to help him untangle his thoughts. Lando nodded slowly before shaking his head.

”Yeah, and I know that’s stupid because I know I have people…both at work and, you know. I have Max, mom and dad, you.” His voice softened at the last word, letting it linger for a moment. ”I know that but I can’t shake this feeling that I’m falling and that you can’t…” Once again he trailed of and you could tell he felt guilty, guilty for letting all off this spill. With a deep breath you pushed yourself up on your feet, Landos head immediately snapping up to watch you. For a second he looked scared, probably because he thought you were leaving, but then his face softened when you rounded the table to where he sat.

”Can I?” You asked quietly, nodding next to him in the couch. He nodded, trailing you as you sank down. When you reached out to lay a hand on his knee he quickly wrapped his own around it, squeezing it gently. Flipping your hand you let your fingers intertwine with his. ”Lando.” you began softly, watching him as he watched your hands. ”You don’t have to do this alone. I know it feels like everything is on you, and a lot is, but you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here for you, not to fix anything but to help you deal with it. Especially when it gets too much.” Lando let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping.

”I don’t know how to let go. I don’t- I’m not good at asking for help. And I don’t want to bring you down with this stuff, it’s-”

”Lando that’s where you’re thinking wrong. You don’t bring me down, or any of us. We want to help, to support you. That’s what you do with people you love, you help each other and you’re there for each other.” Finally he lifted his head, eyes glassy and filled with a vulnerability you wished he showed more often.

”I just don’t know how.” His voice was thick with emotion.

”That’s okay. You’re trying, and that’s more than enough for now. One step at a time.” You leaned closer to him, lifting your free hand to stroke some curls away from his forehead, fingers trailing down his cheek. Lando stared at you for a while and you could see the turmoil behind his eyes, fear and anxiety mixing with the urge to let you in. Finally you saw something shift, his face softened and he forced himself to nod slowly. It was small, but it felt monumental. A few moments later Lando sat leaned back in the couch, arms wrapped around your frame as you curled up against his chest. The silence settled around you again but it wasn’t suffocating like earlier. Now it felt hopeful, like some sort of new start. Landos fingers found your arm, tracing soft, aimless patterns. For him the touch was grounding, a way to anchor himself even when his thoughts were scattered. For you it was a constant reminder that he was still here, not completely shutting you out. When you finally spoke your voice was soft, almost tentative, but with a firmness born out of both love and concern.

”You know Max isn’t angry with you.” His fingers seized their movements and you heart ached when you heard him inhale sharply. Tilting your head slightly you could see his jaw tensing, but he didn’t respond. ”But I still think you owe him an apology. Not for being upset but…” you trailed off as Lando began to nod.

”For what I said. I know.” He exhaled, shifting to sit straighter while also not pulling away completely. His voice was low and strained, filled to the brim with regret. ”I’ve been feeling awful about it since it happened. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it. The words just came out before I could stop them and I- fuck.”

”I know you didn’t mean it. So does Max. But it still hurt him.” When Lando only nodded, his arms slipping from you so he could lean forward with his elbows on his knees, you sighed softly. Leaning forward you gently rested your hand on his back and when he didn’t pull away you moved to lean your cheek against it too. ”It’s not about blaming yourself Lando, it’s just about making it right. Max loves you, he wants to be there for you, you just have to meet him halfway. Like you’re trying with me.” He stayed quiet for a moment but didn’t pull away as your hand traced patterns along his back. Finally he spoke, still shaky but with more determination.

”Okay. Yeah.” For a while he stayed still, collecting his thoughts, and then with a deep breath he stood. You let him go, watching as he trudged down across the garden toward where Max was stretched out on a towel. Your eyes stayed fixed on them as Lando stopped by Max, saying something you couldn’t hear, shoulders hunched in vulnerability as Max sat up. A beat later Max nodded and got to his feet, the two of them trudging further down the lawn towards the small pond together. You barely noticed P come and sit down next to you, only reacting when she spoke up.

”What’s going on?”

”Lando is apologizing.” She just hummed, shuffling closer to you until your arms were touching. Then you just sat there, observing the two men by the pond. Lando’s head was slightly bowed, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, while Max stood with his arms crossed, listening intently. The conversation stretched on, and you could see the emotions flowing between them, the occasional nods, the way Max shifted his weight thoughtfully. Then, sudden enough for you to inhale sharply, Max reached out to grasp Lando’s shoulder firmly. A moment later Max pulled him into a hug and you thought you might start crying again as you watched Lando cling to his best friend. You tore your gaze away from them when you heard P sniff beside you, turning to look at her.

”They’ll be okay. We all will be.” She offered softly and for the first time in a while you felt relief flood your body. Nodding you felt your lips curl into the first real smile since before all of this.

”Yeah. We will.”

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 29 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: A Christmas Present for Readers, fem receiving oral, fingering, and a man starved

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Please,” Alastor whispered against your salty wet skin as he walked you deeper into the villa, clinging to your wet body. The setting sun cast the room in a warm glow, though you were far from in a place to notice it. “Let me make you feel good?” 

“What?” You could hardly hear him over the rush of your heartbeat roaring in your years. 

“Let me show you another way to feel good,” Alastor asked, pulling at your dress, fingering the zipper behind your back, voice heavy with want and tinged with desperation. “Please?” 

Somehow, he had walked you into the bedroom without you realizing it. Fear and nervousness jumped along your nerves as you pulled back to look at Alastor, running your teeth over your kiss swollen lower lip. The memory of how Alastor had made you feel good the last time had haunted you, terrified you enough that it sent you running. 

“Let me show you another first?” Alastor asked, continuing his pleas even as you nodded. “Let me do for you what he won’t.” 

“Okay,” you whispered as Alastor smiled brightly at you, kissing your lips again. Fear and trust warred within your heart. 

His hand behind your back worked the zipper down, fingers tracing its trail down your lower back as the dress fell slack around your torso. His mouth trailed down your neck as his hands brushed under the fabric on your shoulders, sending it falling to the ground in a heap at your feet.

It was hard to not be aware of the fact that you were standing in your slip, panties and silk bra in front of the man you wanted to take you as a husband takes a wife. It terrified you. Being taken in such a way was only ever painful. But with Alastor? You wanted to believe it could be something different, something better. 

You were sure that was what was coming as his hands settled on your waist, warmth spreading ingot your water cooled skin. 

You could hardly breathe as his lips caressed your shoulder, hands running along the exposed skin of your back. Soft open-mouthed kisses left a wet trail over skin as he backed you toward the bed. 

“Sit,” Alastor whispered into your skin. The direction was soft, yet firm. You wanted to do as he said without question. That desire to just do as he asked sent another bolt of fear through you. 

As you did so, he leaned down, kissing every fading bruise as if his lips alone could heal them. It felt like he could, as you struggled to breathe. Soon he was on his knees before you, hands running up your legs. 

Slowly, as if unwrapping a gift, he rolled your stocking down one leg, kissing the newly exposed skin as he went. After placing a kiss on the inside of your ankle, he set your foot on the outside of his thighs. 

“What are you doing?” you couldn’t help but ask as he began again with the other leg, repeating the process slowly. Your heart thundered as you tried to understand what you were feeling. A hot ball of iron rolled around in your stomach, a molten desire for something you didn’t understand.

“Worshiping.” Alastor said, as if it wasn’t blasphemous. He set your foot down on the other side of his thigh and you pulled your knees together to maintain some decency, slight though it was.

The warm light of the setting sun made the man kneeling between your feet seem to glow. His skin was warmer, his hair looked soft and yet the way it lit up his eyes- it almost made them look red. 

Red. Red like blood. No. 

You closed your eyes, pushing the thought away. There was no blood here. Here, at the villa, everything was alright. You were just a woman with the man you loved. 

“I don’t-” The words came out choked, strangled, as you tried to strangle the thought. 

“The only altar I need to worship at is yours,” Alastor said, kissing your knee. “If you’ll let me.” 

“That’s blasphemy,” you whispered as you let him pull your knees apart, though you trembled under his touch. 

“As is everything else about our love,” he said as he kissed your inner thigh, just above your knee. “But for your love, I’d burn in hell if it means you’ll be with me in life.” 

That shouldn’t have made your heart sing as much as it did. It was wrong. This was wrong. The way his hands ran up your thigh, pushing your silk slip higher, exposing more for his lips to kiss, you struggled to care about what hell would await you. 

His hands felt like heaven. If you could just bask in the heaven that was him for a while, it would be worth it. He was worth it. 

“Alastor, I-” you didn’t know what you were going to say as he pulled your thighs farther apart, kissing along the warmth of your inner thighs, higher and higher. Embarrassment burned at you as he came close to your core. Would he touch you as he had before?

“I can smell you,” he sighed, nose brushing against the softness of your panties. 

“I’m sorry,”

“You smell divine,” he whispered. “Don’t you worry. So ripe and ready for me. I can see it.” 

“What?” 

“Give me your hand?” Alastor reached up, taking your trembling hand in his. “Let me show you.” 

Your hand grazed your thigh as he leaned back, twisting and shifting your hand until he had your palm facing your core. There was a moment of hesitation and then he led your fingers to make contact with the gusset of your panties, hot and wet. 

“Your slick,” he said. “You’ve still not touched yourself, have you? Even after I showed you how good you can feel.”

“It’s- I’m- it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll teach you,” Alastor whispered as he led your fingers through caressing yourself through the soaked fabric. You couldn’t argue with how good it felt when fingertips brushed over the numb at the head of your folds. 

“Alastor,” you gasped as he increased the pressure, leaning in and taking the straining tendon running from your core to your inner thigh between his lips, sucking at the skin. 

“May I?” he asked as he worked a finger under the band around her hips. “I want to see you. I want to feel nothing but you.” 

Shame burned at you as you nodded. Never had it been like this with Laurence. Never had he asked before doing anything. Never had he wanted anything more than to be inside of you. Never had you wanted to allow him to touch you. Never had you wanted him to touch you. 

You lifted your hips as he tugged the fabric down, taking your half slip with it. You sat, knees once again together, at the edge of the bed before the kneeling man you loved with only your silken bra to cover your breasts. 

“Relax,” Alastor said, raising up to his knees, as he steadied himself with his hands on your thighs, just above your naked knees. He kissed you softly, sweetly, as he urged you to relax. “I will not hurt you.” 

You let your legs fall apart slowly, trembling under his hands. Whatever it was Alastor wanted to do to you, you wanted to let him do. Alastor had all of your trust. If you could trust him with your heart, you trusted him with your body. 

As you relaxed, leaned his torso between your knees, spreading them farther as he kissed along your neck, hands gripping you as if he feared you’d float away. It seemed like a valid fear; you thought as he kissed down your chest, guiding you to lean back as you supported yourself with an outstretched arm. 

Soft kisses trailed along the line where your bra cupped your breasts before jumping down, kissing below and working down your abdomen. Gasping for breath, you tried to understand what he was doing to you and why it felt as good as it did. 

Was this what it was supposed to be like before you laid together? Was this something Laurence skipped? Was this something else?

“Alastor?” you squeaked his name as you felt him draw lower down your body, planting soft kisses on your mound. 

“May I taste you?” He asked, looking up at you. 

“What?” You gaped down at him as he spread your legs farther with this broad shoulders. He made a show of looking at your core and licking his lips. 

“Alastor, no that’s-” 

“It’s not,” he said, “And I want to. I want to feel you, to taste you, to hear you. Please, let me? I swear to you, it will not hurt.” 

“Okay,” you stuttered out, looking away from him only to have him call your name from between your legs. 

“Watch me,” he whispered, kissing high on your inner thigh. “Watch me as I devour you.” 

You couldn’t look away when he asked that way. First, he ran his finger up and down your folds, spreading them wide as he smeared your slick. Your hips twitched as he passed over your nub each time, remembering how good it had felt when he had reached around and ran his fingertips along it. 

“You’re so wet already,” he whispered as he pulled his glasses off his face with his other hand, setting them on the bed next to you. Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss against the bundle of nerves exposed to him. 

You gasped as a spark jumped through you, watching him while he pulled back for a moment again. He licked the slick his lips had collected with the simple contact. It was lewd, but not nearly as lewd as what came next. 

“Kiss me again?” You whispered as he glanced up at you. The words were out of your mouth before you thought about what they meant. All you knew is you needed to taste his kiss one more time before whatever indecency would come next. 

Alastor rose between your knees and kissed you. He braced against the bed with one hand as his hand worked down your front. The feeling of his fingers slipping through your wet folds as he kissed you had you gasping, gripping him as if he would keep you grounded. 

Running your hands around him, you braved taking a liberty yourself. As his touch worked through you, over you, you worked his buttons free, pulling at his shirt. You ran your hands through his hair between tugs, pulling his shirt from his pants, or running over the expanse of his chest you could expose. 

He felt good under your hand. Never had you expected to want to touch a man as badly as yo wanted to touch him. His shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, only slightly tucked in at places still as you took in the feel of his scattered chest hairs under your hand, the way his heart beat against his ribs and his pebbled nipples. 

“Oh god,” you gasped only for him to chuckle right into you, tongue working between your lips. 

His kiss tasted different and after a heartbeat you realized you were tasting you on his lips. Your head spun as he worked his fingers up and down your folds, circling your nub as he kissed you, tongue caressing tongue. 

“Let me feast,” Alastor whispered as he parted from your lips, still connected by a line of saliva. “Trust me.” 

He sank again to his knees, resting back on his heels as he looked at your core as if it was some fine delicacy. After licking his lips one last time, he leaned forward, tongue out. 

The sensation as he ran it along your folds was strange, not unpleasant, but you were stuck in your head, overthinking how terrible it must be for him. He groaned at the taste, flat tongue passing over your nub before he began again, starting lower. The tip of his tongue pulled over your opening, just teasing it before flattening and running through your folds gain.

As he reached the bundle of nerves again, his lips curled around it and he sucked, earning a gasp and a twitch of your lips. A smile spread as his tongue circled your clit. 

“Relax,” he murmured, lips moving over folds as if he couldn’t bear being parted from the meal. “You taste so good.” 

“Alastor,” you didn’t know what you were going to request, instead running your fingers through his already messy curls. He groaned into you when you’d catch tangles, pulling at them. 

His mouth left the nub, tongue finding the opening that had only brought pain in the past. His tongue teased it, running around and over it before pointing and dipping inside the tense opening. 

Your mind was spinning, gasping. Never had you wanted something to breach that opening, but now all you could think of was how good it felt when his tongue pressed against it, his nose bumping and rubbing against the sensitive nub. 

“I want to go inside.” Alastor whispered, looking up at you as he placed a series of kisses against your clit, sending sparks through you that had your hips twitching. “Let me feel you form the inside. Taste you.”

“Please,” you struggled to understand the words he said as he looked up at you from between your legs, slick shining against his lips. He could have asked you for anything at all, and you would have agreed. “Please, Alastor. I need-” 

Your words were strangled, cut off as his lips wrapped around the nub again, sucking hard. What do you do with your hands right now? You couldn’t figure it out as he spread you wider. Your hand rested limply against your abdomen, not wanting to keep pulling his tangles in case it caused him pain. 

Reaching up, he took your hand and placed it atop his head again as he pulled back, sucking hard on your clit until it left his mouth with a pop.

You felt his fingers return, running around the opening. No one had reached inside your body before except your husband. It was a temple a husband places his offering in and when blessed; it results in a child. 

You gasped as Alastor’s long finger pushed past that opening, sinking deliciously deeper inside. It was terrifying to have another inside you, touching you in a place that had only brought pain. There was no pain with his slow and careful intrusion. 

“You’re taking my finger so well,” Alastor said, lapping at your clit. “I can make you feel good from the inside out, darling.” 

He worked his finger in and out of you, your back arching as his tongue explored the rest of your core, tasting you and driving you closer and closer to the edge. The breathy gasps gave way to light moans as a second finger breached your entrance.

“Alastor,” you begged, not knowing what for. 

“Do you want to come? Do you want to come undone on my hand? In my mouth?” he renewed his efforts, twisting his fingers as he sought the place that would have you crying out. 

Just as he wanted, your moans became louder, a series of gasped ‘oh’s as slick poured from you anew. He moaned as his tongue worked around his fingers, taking in the taste before lavishing your clit with attention. The fight was tight, but after stretching you around his fingers, he could add a third. 

“Please,” you gasped as he moved faster. “Please, please, Alastor! It’s too much!” 

Your fingers gripped his hair as he pushed forward, careful not to hurt you as his teeth grazed over the nub. He felt your walls flutter around his fingers as he continued to work you over. Then your body seized, clamping down tightly around him. 

You moaned loudly as you fell back, elbow buckling under the flood of feelings. Alastor pulled your thigh up over his shoulder as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you, placing soft kisses and kitten licks against your clit until your body settled, racking waves of convulsions settling into little more than twitches.

“Beautiful,” Alastor said as he puled his fingers from your twitching opening with a squelch. “You come apart beautifully.” 

Your chest rose and fell as Alastor climbed onto the bed with you, pulling your near naked form to his chest as you struggled to think through the fog. The shelter of his arms felt like where you needed to be. 

Blinking up at him, you watched as he licked the slick from his fingers. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“And let it go to waste? HA!” Alastor made a show of sucking another finger clean. 

He had been inside you, reached and touched a place where none had ever touched before, not even yourself. You tried to curl into him more, still gasping for air. Warm hands ran down your back, soothing you as he reminded you to breathe. 

“We’re done for tonight,” Alastor whispered as he gathered you into his lap after he removed his belt, tossing it aside. “You did so good. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Did you like it?” 

“Amazing.” you whispered, face aflame with the shame of having to discuss what had happened. “I didn’t think it would… that that could feel so…” 

“Shh,” Alastor kissed you and you struggled to care where his lips had just been. The taste of you on his lips wasn’t offensive, you decided, because it was from his lips. “I’ll get you some water. And a nightgown.” 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Alastor said, handing you a silken nightgown from your bag. “You need to drink some water.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Collars Of Duty 4

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 3 - (Chapter 5)

Simon's gone and you're left to deal with his sudden absence. But maybe it's not all over yet.

~ 8,3k Words

Content (might contain spoilers): reader being mean to themselves in their thoughts, hybrid AU, mention of past injury, hints at past attack, mentions of therapy, biting, blood

A.N: I messed with the COD timeline here. I know that some of the things I mention don't happen during this time and don't fit with the canon but it's my AU so shush. Curious if you lot catch the cameo. Have fun. Also not my best chapter but I poured a lot of heart, time and effort into it.

It’s been almost a week since Simon’s transport back to England. A week that you’ve spent at home again. The day you arrived at work to find Simon gone you went back to medical leave. Now as you sit on your couch and look out through your living room window you wonder if that was the best decision.

Simon’s sudden absence left you hollower than you anticipated. You spent barely a week by his side, most of which he was unconscious. So how come you care so damn much already?

You go through your usual routine. Making food, going outside, meeting friends, attending therapy, working on your mind and body. You do everything you did the past few weeks that helped you get back to your feet after Phillip but the worry for Simon won’t fade. It’s always there in the back of your head, a nagging feeling that leaves you thinking about him way more than you probably should.

Is he okay? Are they taking good care of him? Do they take it slow and take his trauma and needs into consideration? Does he have a handler that knows how to help him? How are his wounds?

You feel silly for caring so much about the large hybrid but another pitiful part of you whispers that it might prove that you’re a good person. Caring so much about someone you barely know surely proves that you have a good heart.

Then there’s another part that admonishes you for thinking that. No truly good person would think about whether their actions or thoughts make them a good person and you grow ashamed again. You try to shove all those thoughts somewhere in a corner of your mind where you don’t have to hear them constantly. The back and forth driving you insane without coming up with any conclusive answer.

You worry about him. That’s how it is. You care There is nothing you can do to change that except try not to think about him so much. But honestly you don’t want to stop thinking about him. Something about Simon struck your heart and you feel the need to figure out what.

You sigh as you nurse your mug with your favourite hot beverage in it, taking another slow sip savoring the taste. Has Simon ever had a drink like this? You sigh. Here you go again, thinking about the malinois hybrid without pause.

You let your head fall back against the backrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling. When did your home start feeling more like a self inflicted prison? There’s a restlessness growing in you. It’s starting deep in your stomach and spreads its way through your limbs making you bounce your knee until you almost spill your drink jerking your head back up to safe it at the last second.

Why did you go back to medical leave? You had been more than willing to return for Simon’s case. But as soon as he left you went back home like a snail hiding in it’s shell. You rest your elbows on your knees and let your head hang forward the muscles of your neck stretching uncomfortably.

You’re a damn coward. Resting at home. It doesn’t feel like healing anymore it feels like you’re running away. Running from the center and all the hybrids it houses. You hate it, hate Phillip for ruining all dog hybrids with just one attack. Why does he have the power to make you afraid of all of them. It’s not fair.

Do the others think you’re a coward as well? Hiding at home again after you came back for a week. What is management thinking? That you could return for an emergency but not for the relative calmness of every day? What will happen if you don’t come back quick enough for them? Will you lose your job? Would they actually fire you over something like this?

Just like that sitting at home feels like wasted time. Every minute spent on your couch is a minute you could be working and trying to get over your fear. And suddenly your certain that you have to return to work if you want to make further progress.

Additionally to your sudden urgency to just do something instead of sitting at home and licking your wounds the thought of everyone secretly judging your return to absence makes you feel itchy. But it’s your own judgment makes you the most uncomfortable. You can’t escape your own thoughts that remind you how cowardly you’re behaving. How you’re wasting away thinking about a hybrid who never even was your charge.

Thinking about a hybrid who you foolishly put a lot of hope into.

It makes no logical sense that you feel like Simon was your way back to working with hybrids. You had been sure that working with a problem hybrid would be the worst thing that could happen to you. You had been sure it would make you feel worse and undo everything you’ve achieved in therapy so far.

Now it feels like anyone other than the problem hybrid will hinder your recovery.

For a moment you feel selfish for wanting to gain something out of helping a hybrid. How can you think like that? Even if working with one stops your progress it would be worth it if you could help them. It’s not their job to help you. You’re supposed to help them, that’s what you’re being paid for, dammit. Helping them without gaining anything should be all you want.

Still it would be the best case scenario if working with one would also allow you to slowly get used to them again. It would be nice if the hybrid could help you too. And you decide that you can allow yourself that little bit of selfishness.

But even if that best case scenario were to happen. Before you can get anyone elses help you’ll have to want to help yourself.

The days of peacefully sitting on your couch letting the world outside continue to turn while you exist in your own little reality that consists of your home and the doctors office are over. You’ve had enough time off. It’s time to return to work. If you don’t your own thoughts that continue to run in circles will drive you insane.

No matter how often you dissect what happened with Phillip it won’t change what happened and maybe it’s time to accept that.

It’s probably best if you go back to the center today, before you lose your drive. And what better way to return than just going for lunch. Nice and casual. Nothing scary. At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of as your palms immediately begin getting sweaty.

It’s tiring always being scared and even if it scares you more to go back, at least you’re doing something. You can’t take another second of sitting at home waiting to feel better while doing nothing.

A sudden burst of energy has you rushing all over your home while you get ready and sprint out of your front door before your nerves catch up to you.

You try your hardest not to second guess yourself as your unsteady hands hold the access card against the entrance of the compound. It opens with a beep and you rush through. When you stand in front of the main building you freeze. Your hands are shaking and you will yourself to breathe deeply.

There will be a lot of hybrids at the cafeteria, and suddenly your feet wont take another step. Flashes of teeth, dripping with vicious saliva, snapping and tearing at you appear in your mind. You’re certain that there’s an aggressive hybrid growling behind you but when you turn there’s no one there. Wincing you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make you feel some semblance of safety.

You’ve already managed to come here and turning around to go back home feels like defeat. You can already taste it’s bitter tang just from thinking about not going through with your plan. For a moment you chew on your lower lip, indecisive then you look up at the building. Liz should be working right now. Maybe she’s willing to have her break with you.

Taking two steps at once, you rush up the stairs hoping you don’t meet anyone, especially no hybrid before you reach Liz’ office. Your heart pumps hectically while you strain your ears to make sure you’ll hear approaching steps over your harsh breathing. You’re lucky, getting there without running into anyone and you quickly slip inside without knocking.

Your heart swells at the way Liz positively beams at your appearance. It should not surprise you as much as it does when she immediately takes her break so she can go to the cafeteria with you. The way she links her arm with yours is so easy and natural that it makes you gulp suppressing the strong urge to hide behind her.

You grow more and more tense the closer you get to the cafeteria. Liz chattering fading to the background even if it’s her attempt to distract you. There are two hybrids and their handlers joining your direction. Luckily they’re concentrated on their handlers and the promise of food after training. The two of them don’t even give you any attention besides a quick glance.

When you realize that they won’t attack, you relax minutely. Everything is okay, you’re okay. The hybrids at the center are all friendly. Usually.

Aggressive Hybrids are very rare and they’re usually kept on leash. There’s various reasons why a handler might decide to keep their charge on a leash and none of the handlers here would let an aggressive hybrid roam free.

You almost manage to gain some control over your fear until you hear a sudden bark behind you. It’s loud and startling and you can feel your heart jump painfully in your chest.

You rip your arm away from Liz, whipping around. Fear clogs your throat and you can feel your eyes watering in sheer panic.

A golden retriever hybrid is running at you his steps slightly uneven. Where his left leg should be is a prosthetic attached but it does nothing to slow him down. His handler is further down the hallway and from the leash that loosely hangs from the hybrids collar it’s evident that he ripped himself free from his handlers hold.

His ears are perked up and flop with every step, his face lit up with obvious joy but it doesn’t help the terror that floods through you at the sight of him running at you. A very faint voice reminds you that you know this hybrid and he wouldn’t hurt you, but that voice is easily silence by the dread that overpowers everything.

He stretches his arms out to the side and Liz takes a step forward.

Before he reaches you, or Liz can step into his way you thrust out your hand out in front of yourself in sheer desperation.

“STOP!”

Alex skids to a halt like he just ran against a wall, having to shift his weight so he doesn’t fall. The prosthetic makes an awful screeching noise as it scrapes over the floor. His ears droop and his tail halts mid wag, uncertain what just happened. You’d feel bad at the obvious hurt in his expression if you weren’t so desperately harnessing your fear to shove it back into the dark corner it crawled from.

Panic squeezes your lungs and denies you access to your own breaths. You think you hear Liz tell Alex’ handler to wait when he goes to grab Alex’ leash but you concentrate on regulating your wheezing breaths, your hand still outstretched to halt Alex.

The golden hybrid looks at you and takes a few small steps on the spot he’s glued to. His nostrils flare and he cocks his head at you.

“You’re afraid of me?” He half asks half states and the devastation in his voice rips your heart right in two. A whine makes its way from his chest and you shake your head. You panic retreating at the need to reassure and calm the hybrid. He did nothing wrong and here you are, hurting him by panicking.

“No! I’m not scared of you.” You say even if you’re not sure whether that’s true. But you need to say something, anything to stop the hurt in his eyes. He cocks his head at you in question.

“Just got spooked from the way your ran at me.”

He visibly perks back up at that, his tail slowly starting to wag again even if it’s decidedly less enthusiastic than before. Then it slowly gains momentum, getting quicker and stronger until his entire body wriggles with his joy and the sight steals a small smile from you.

“I only wanted to hug you. I haven’t seen you in forever. I promise I won’t rush. May I hug you?” He asks with so much hope in his voice that you can’t say no.

Briefly you scan his body language, finding nothing but excitement and restraint so you nod even if the way your blood rushes through you is almost painful.

Alex stays true to his word, slowly steps forward, opening his arms for you and waits until you mirror the gesture. Then he wraps his bulky frame around you, squeezing you to his chest. Immediately he pushes his face against you and takes a deep breath, smelling you. His mustache tickles you and you squirm giggling inadvertently.

He rumbles deep in his chest, huffs in displeasure at your movements which only makes you giggle and squirm more. Your fear slowly retracts its claws from your chest, hissing in displeasure at your entire being remembering Alex as safe.

You can feel him relax right along with you. Until all that is left is warmth and contentment. The close contact to him after weeks of staying away as far as possible from any and all hybrids fills your chest with warmth choking you up slightly. After you allow yourself to bask in his hug for as long as you deem acceptable and after you swallow your tears back down, you step back and shake your head at him fondly.

“You know that this is exactly why you’re still on leash. Always so easily distracted rushing off to investigate whatever scent you caught. Although I’m honored I’m the distraction this time.”

He folds his ears back and the chuckle of his handler reminds you of his and Liz presence. The man, Chad, steps forward and gently cuffs the back of Alex head. The hybrid playfully snaps in the direction of his fingers. You nearly flinch until you remind yourself that this is Alex and he’s just playing.

“Lucky for him we’re not training right now and you’re a very special distraction. It’s good to see you again.”

You remember the day you left Alex as his charge, a mixture of pride and pain in your chest. You’d worked months with Alex after he lost his leg in an explosion during a mission. You’d helped him regain his agility and confidence and it was only normal that you developed a deep bond with the hybrid.

It was always a happy occasion when a hybrid got to go back to having a work handler and you shake Chads outstretched hand with a warm smile. As you make your way into the cafeteria you try to concentrate on Alex and his handler, who’s taken his leash in hand again.

“We get to go back to the real work next week.” Alex tells you puffing his chest and pride blooms in your own chest. You know how much his work means to him and it will be great to see him leave the center after a year and a half of working hard to get back in shape. Still the thought stings a little.

You’ll miss him. He’s been one of your favorite charges and even after you left him in Chad’s capable hands - so they could work and train to become a team while Alex fully regained his abilities - it was nice to meet him in the hallways and outside on the training grounds.

You try to concentrate on the joy instead. He’ll get to go back to doing what he loves and you wonder when you’ll be able to do the same. With the way you currently need to check every hybrid around you for any sign of aggression you don’t see any possibility of you taking on a new charge soon.

With Simon it had been easy. He’d been an emergency which left not enough time to think, to doubt, to get lost in your fear. Now that he’s gone you have too much time to cook up all the worst case scenarios in your head again.

While you try to have lunch without always looking around like a spooked rabbit you get to watch Chad and Alex interact and their easy camaraderie and banter makes you jealous. It makes you overly aware of the fact that you’re unable to interact with a hybrid like that at the moment.

But you love this job. You love working with them and helping them and developing all these bonds. Harshly you stab your fork into the food. Even if it takes forever, you will be able to do it again.

As if to mock you the scar on your shoulder throbs at the aggressive movement and you subconsciously reach up, pressing against it. Alex turns his head towards you from his place besides you. You give him a small tight lipped smile.

He says nothing, but under the table he moves his leg until his thigh touches you and you stare down at the contact.

The next day you join Alex and Chad while training at their insistence the day before. They’re all too eager to show off their hard work to you and it’s almost mesmerizing the way they clear the obstacle course together.

The centers agility course is a jungle of platforms that are raised over the ground with obstacles in between. The platforms vary from the size of your hand to a square meter and some are slanted to test the balance.

They can be roughly divided into two heights one being a few centimeters above the ground while the second level is mostly at two meters with platforms of varying heights in between. There is no designated path through the course which allows a handler to challenge a hybrid with new angles at already well known obstacles.

The slight tugs Chad gives on the leash help Alex to find the right footing while he concentrates on sniffing out the hidden object. You.

You’re crouched behind an obstacle that’s on the second level, keeping out of sight. You peek at the pair of them moving through the course stopping at a point where you doubled back to confuse Alex.

The single minded focus of the hybrid is admirable but also dangerous out in the field. In the field concentrating on nothing besides what he’s supposed to sniff out means running into the line of fire, stepping onto a contact mine or whatever other horrible things wait for them in the field. That is why he’s connected to Chad with the leash.

You almost shout a warning, your heart leaping into your throat, when Alex lifts his head to track your scent not watching the small platforms under his feet. You can already see his foot miss the next platform but Chad gives a gentle tug and Alex rights his direction without looking down.

His foot finds the platform and you exhale heavily with relief. You can only continue watching in awe. You’d known that Chad was a good handler. While working with Philip you had often seen the two of them train but you always had your own hybrid to concentrate on so you never got to appreciate the incredible team these two make.

Alex finds you easily while Chad watches over him, clearing his path, making sure he doesn’t get hurt while he concentrates on his work and when Alex finds you in record time, you can’t help but clap and holler in excitement.

Chad ruffles Alex hair and the golden retriever hybrid beams with pride. His tail wags a mile a minute and when you’re all back down on the ground he does a few silly circles on the spot giving an excited bark which makes Chad laugh.

A deep feeling of peace settles over you. This is what it’s supposed to be like. A soft smile sneaks onto your lips. Watching Chad and Alex is weirdly healing, reminding you of what a healthy hybrid handler relationship looks like. You have been able to build one with every charge you’ve had besides Phillip. And with him it wasn’t because you didn’t try.

For the first time fear isn’t the first emotion bubbling up when you think about Phillip. This time it’s sadness. In his chase for his independence he sold his soul to someone else. But you don’t think that the proud hybrid realized that. He probably didn’t realize that the gesture of attacking you was empty considering the reasons for it. It proved jack shit. But hey at least he got what he wanted in the end.

Even that thought doesn’t chase the sadness away. So you concentrate back on Chad and Alex and you realize you’re a little less frustrated with yourself when you go to bed that evening. You got to work with a hybrid again and it had went well. Things will get better after all.

After the day you spent with Alex you come back to work for good. You do not have your own charge at the moment but you try to be useful in every way you can. Instead of working with a hybrid you start helping with the equipment, running errands and giving the other handlers advice that you feel not qualified to give considering how long you’ve been absent and the reason for your absence.

The way you try to avoid running into hybrids makes you feel ashamed of yourself once more but you don’t have it in you to just casually cross paths with them. It’s so stupid, the way one hybrid ruined every hybrid for you. You’re determined to change that, to not see a threat in every hybrid but maybe… maybe not today.

You duck around the corner as you spot a hybrid walking down the hallway with her handler and press yourself against the wall counting down from ten to calm yourself. It’s frustrating as hell that interacting with Alex didn’t magically heal you.

Why could one hybrid not heal the wounds of one other hybrid? Your pulse still jumps at every hybrid you see. You still try to hide instead of normally passing them. And you grow frustrated with yourself. Healing sucks. It’s hard to understand why books and movies always seem to picture it as this magical beautiful journey when most of the time it feels like running in circles and standing in your own way.

How would things be if Simon was still here? Would you walk the hallways unafraid with his large form looming next to you? Maybe if he’d become your charge you would feel better already.

You shake your head. Thinking about that doesn’t help you, you try to remind yourself. Simon’s in England and there isn’t anything you can do.

You peek around the corner, seeing that the hybrid is gone you continue on your way, glad that the tiles help you hear when someone’s approaching. You look at the stack of papers in your arms and almost scoff at yourself. Running errands instead of doing what you actually get paid for.

But with Simon gone you don’t know how you’re supposed to jump into the deep end and take the position as a handler again.

You should have known. You should have known it would come back to bite you in the ass that you didn’t sign the handler agreement. Maybe with that you could have been transferred with Simon and stayed by his side for the time it will take for him to be able to go back to active duty.

Apparently the Doc had asked for the papers that prove that Simon is your charge so she could have you called to the center before he left. When she called the office they had to tell her that no such papers were signed.

You’re lucky that the Doc hasn’t told anyone that you lied to gain access to his medical report. At least you don’t think she has or someone would have approached you about it by now. It still might happen and you’re unsure whether you should talk to her about it before you possibly get a lawsuit.

Thinking about that does nothing to calm your racing heart and you almost flee inside Liz’ office when it comes into view as if her presence will shield you from your own thoughts and feelings as well.

You drop the stack of papers on her desk and she sighs, pushing up her glasses and meets you eyes.

“I should probably thank you but honestly, how dare you bring this to me instead of accidentally spilling coffee all over them.”

Hearing Liz who enjoys the office work say something like that startles a laugh out of you and she grins.

“One of those days?” You ask and she nods, stretches her arms over her head and groans when her back audibly pops.

She takes her smoothie and slurps it through her straw. “You know I looked into it for you. But there is no way for us to obtain any information on Simon’s well being. I’m sorry.”

You plop down into the empty chair before her desk and crane your neck until you’re staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I already expected that. If only I had signed those damned papers.”

You catch Liz shrug out of your peripheral vision. “Well with the English laws being the way they are it’s not certain that would have done anything either.”

Lazily you let your head roll forward. “Hm?”

“Ah, right. You only do the hands on work. The hybrid-handler laws in England demand the hybrid to sign an agreement too for the handler-hybrid relationship to have legal effect. So your signature alone would probably not give you any information on him anyway.”

“Oh.” You think about it. You know the English laws are different but you never looked into it since they don’t concern you, at least they never did until now. Either way you will never know what’s become of Simon and it frustrates you.

“Well, it is what it is.” You say resigned and put your hands on your knees to push yourself up. If only you could mean that. “Back to running errands I go.”

Before you can leave the room Liz’ voice stops you. “You have to take on a charge again at some point.”

You half turn to her smiling, even though you don’t feel like smiling at all. “Exactly. ‘At some point.’ That point is not now. It’s barely been a few days of me being back.”

She shakes her head at you and you’d be embarrassed or angry at her disappointed expression but you know it’s because she cares. “Why are you so damn hesitant? You were fully ready to take Simon as charge?”

You purse your lips in thought, turning to her fully. “With him it was easy. I didn’t have time to imagine all the things that could go wrong. Just ‘bam here’s this hybrid you have to take care of’. Now that he’s gone I have too much time to think about what it means to take on a new charge.”

Liz clicks her tongue. “Maybe I’ll just drop a hybrid at your doorstep so you don’t have time to think.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” She says dryly and you’re not sure if she’s still joking. So you laugh it off while fleeing her office before she decides to make any more valid points.

That better have been a joke or you’d strangle her. And then thank her because thinking about it - dropping a hybrid at your doorstep might actually work. Your close the door, turn to walk back down the hallway and almost walk into Meg from HR.

“Oh good. I was looking for you.”

You gulp. Oh no. Did the Doc rat you out after all? Would they fire you? Shit. You rub your palms against your pants. Did you do anything wrong? What if she knows you lied to get the Doc to talk about Simon? Would they file a lawsuit because of something like that?

“Follow me.” She says curtly and you nod, too startled and scared to get a simple yes out. Walking behind her through the hallway makes you feel like you’re walking to your own execution and you thank whoever is listening that you don’t run into any hybrids. You’re not sure your heart could handle any more anxiety.

The clicking of her door closing while she indicates for you to sit down at her desk sounds like a threat and when you sit you rub your sweaty palms against your thighs.

She sits down on her side of the desk and clicks something on her computer then she looks at you seriously and you feel like you’ll be in serious trouble in a few second. Hopefully you won’t cry, that would be embarrassing.

She sighs. “Do you remember the aggressive hybrid you were called in for from your leave?”

You nod and this time you manage to weakly say: “Yes.” Oh no. Oh no no no no. Pleas no.

She taps a pen against her chin and studies you. “You know we really hoped you could take another charge soon so management isn’t the happiest about it but we were promised a substitute and compensation so we decided to leave it up to you.”

Is she doing this on purpose? Dragging it out? What substitute? What the hell is going on?

“We got a request for you from the center in England he is currently at. They want you to work there with him for however long it takes to get him back on his feet. You’re one of our best even if you’re currently not exactly fitting your job description. I heard you got along well with him.” Something in her gaze softens at her last statement and you release your held breath a heavy weight dropping off your shoulders.

She doesn’t know about the papers. It feels like your heart can finally get a break. But then everything she said hits you and you start nervously bouncing your leg. They requested you? You’re sure they have more than enough handlers at the center he’s currently at. Surely they have competent personnel?

“Why… did they request me?” You carefully ask, not sure you’re allowed to ask any questions. Which is absurd if you think about it because of course you’re allowed to ask questions if she specifically called you to her office to give you a choice.

She purses her lips and twirls the pen in her fingers. “Apparently he’s giving them trouble. They don’t know what to do and found out he was more comfortable with you. Usually they would just give a problematic hybrid like him a medical discharge from his duties but apparently he’s a big enough asset for them to reach out to us.”

You nod trying to understand. What happened? Things hadn’t looked that bad. What had happened that Simon is once again deemed a problematic? Are you willing to go to England for an unknown amount of time because they ask you to? It might be months until he’s rehabilitated.

Your thoughts return to the few moments you had with him. You remember him in the bath, the way he’d let you dry his hair. The way you felt like you might overcome your fear with him. Maybe you don’t have to try with another hybrid. Maybe Simon is meant to be your charge so you can both help each other. This might be what you’ve been waiting for without knowing.

You’re a bit unsettled by how quick you’ve come to your decision. You should probably think this through more but you’d sign the handler papers in a heartbeat. That reminds you…

“What about him? Don’t the laws in England demand that he agrees with me being his handler?”

She nods, rifles through a stack of paper on her table and finally finds what she’s looking for. She folds the stapled stack of papers open on the last page and slides it over her desk towards you. At the bottom two lines for signatures sit.

“He already signed signed.”

You stare at the line where his name sits in neat block writing. You can’t help yourself but run your finger over it. Your heart thumps hectically in your chest. He already agreed to you being his handler. All you have to do is sign as well. You try to come up with all the logical questions and things that should make you hesitate.

“What about housing and stuff?” You hate how you say ‘stuff’ like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Your thoughts are rushing. You have a hard time getting a hold of them. Taking care of contracts and the whole organizational stuff was never your strong suit. Your strong suit is working with hybrids, at least you thought so until Phillip. But the fact that Simon apparently wants you as his handler makes the smallest bit of confidence grow.

They want you in England because whatever happened makes them think you can help him. Whatever he said makes them think you’re who they have to turn to. You can do this. This is also what the hybrid wants. What will happen to Simon if you refuse?

Meg rips you from your thoughts. “They board and lodge their staff if they chose to live on site.”

You nod and then hold your hand out for the pen.

“Are you sure?” Meg asks and hesitantly gives in to you. You scribble your signature on the line next to Simon’s.

“Yes.” You say. Actually you aren’t sure at all. It’s probably stupid to sign so quickly when you haven’t asked a lot of important questions but if you don’t sign now you’ll think about it and then fear will claw at your chest and prevent you from going for it. Maybe it’s stupid and reckless. But it feels right.

Meg shrugs and takes the paper with your signature back. “Alright. Simon Riley is officially your new charge. They want you over there as quickly as possible so you should take the earliest flight you can. We’ll prepare your papers and request your substitute.”

Liz is gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are stark white. Your knee is bouncing again and she glances at you from the corner of her eyes every now and then. She insisted on driving you to the airport and you’re very thankful despite arguing at first that she doesn’t have to.

“What is it?” You ask and now both your legs are bouncing.

Her hands shift on the wheel before gripping hard again. “Are you sure about this?”

You sigh and put your face in your hands. “No.” You mumble. She has the audacity to laugh at that. You shoot her a look and then start laughing too. What the hell are you doing? You’re about to fly to a whole other continent for a hybrid you don’t even really know.

She shrugs but her hands relax. “We can still cancel it all. I’ll kidnap you, no one will ever know that you tucked your tail and ran.”

That makes you laugh harder and you shake your head resting it back against the headrest. “I feel insane for this but I couldn’t say no. Maybe I’ll end up regretting this but maybe… Maybe everything will work out? What if this is what I need? A problem hybrid in a whole other country who wants me as his handler.”

Liz purses her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never known you to be so impulsive but if you feel like you have to do this I won’t stop you. But if I receive word that you want to come back and don’t want to do this after all, I’ll terminate the contract and personally come get your ass back to the US.”

You snort at that but something in you calms down. Despite her joking tone you know that she means every word. You look at her for a while and it hits you that you don’t know how long you’ll be in England. Who knows when you’ll be in the same room as her again.

“Thank you.” You say quietly and Liz just nods.

The rest of the ride is comfortably quiet.

At the airport she squeezes you tightly and helps you with your luggage. Before you know it you’re on the plane and taking off. Your whole body starts getting jittery with nerves. You breathe deeply remembering one of the exercises your therapist gave you. She offered to keep holding your sessions online and you’re incredibly thankful for it.

You manage to calm down during the flight and even sneak in a nap, waking up with a racing heart to the announcement that the plane is on approach. As soon as you touch ground and have permission to use your phone you text Liz to let her know that you landed safely.

Half an hour later you’re in a cab going for the rehabilitation center you’ll stay at for an unknown amount of time. You wipe your hands on your pants thankful that the cab driver doesn’t try to make conversation so you can look out the window at the darkness of the evening.

It’s weird to think about how much more of the day Liz has left while it’s already very late evening here.

The street lights illuminate parts of the road and you feel like you’re dying inside from all the uncertainty of what is to come. You wish the drive would never end so you can’t arrive at the center. Alternatively you’d be happy with a concise list of what exactly will happen and who exactly you’ll meet. You get neither an endless ride nor a list. Sooner than you’d like the cab stops and you’re left with your gigantic luggage on the sidewalk.

You sincerely hope no one watches the awkward waddle you do while dragging your heavy bag with you to the front gate. Your wishes go unnoticed because someone approaches you quickly and you straighten up your heart jumping into your throat.

When the person is finally close enough for you to make them out clearly your breath hitches and you can’t help but look at him with wide eyes. He’s a snake hybrid. You’ve never seen one before and even if you’re aware of how rude it is you can’t stop staring.

“Welcome! You’re the handler from America, right?” He greets you and you gape at him nodding. He has a split tongue. The street lamps illuminate him dimly and if you aren’t mistaken the faint outline of scales is visible at his temples and his jaw.

He waits a moment and then slightly squirms under your scrutiny. “Ah. Am I your first snake hybrid?”

That manages to shake you out of it and you nod mumbling an apology. He easily hoists up your baggage onto his shoulder and opens a door in the gate with a key card.

“Don’t worry. I get that reaction with most people. We’re all really happy that you’re here. Simon has been… difficult to say the least.” The snake hybrid goes on and you can’t help but wonder how he knows so much. Who is he? Is he the companion hybrid of one of the handlers here?

You’re staring again while you follow him and his shoulders tense. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. How silly. I’m Nathair but please call me Nate.”

You give him your name in return and he stops for a moment to extend his hand for you to shake before continuing his way towards a large building. Before you can get a good look at the way it’s structured Nate leads you through the entrance door and towards a reception desk.

Smoothly he slides behind it sorting some papers and putting them in a folder then he gets a key card and stands again. He extends the folder to you and you take it before Nathair rounds the desk again, takes up your luggage once more and makes his way down a hallway. You hurry to follow.

“Those are some papers we need signed, some information like a map and the rules of our center. I also included Simon’s file.”

Suddenly your interest is piqued. “Where is he?”

Nate turns down another hallway and you already know it will take a while before you’re comfortable with the layout of the center. Thank god for the map.

“He’s being kept in a safety room where he will stay until he is ready to join you.”

“Join me?” You have to jog a few steps to keep up with Nate’s quick pace and when he notices he slows down. Here in the light of the building you can get a good look at him.

He’s magnificent. Broad shoulders, copper coloured hair and a dusting of dark reddish brows freckles that get denser towards his temples and fade into a few scattered scales. His skin is pale and along his jaw fading down his neck you can make out some more scales.

His eyes are big and round and something about them is slightly off. You can’t say exactly what it is though. The hands which are holding up your luggage are strong but slender and on the back of them you can once again see reddish brown scales disappear under his sleeves.

“Yes. Join you. Hybrids and handlers share their rooms here but with Simon being the way he is we didn’t deem it safe enough to bring him to the general housing wing yet. “

Suddenly you feel stupid again. You really agreed too quickly without enough information. You didn’t even know about the rooming situation. You straighten your shoulders. It’s too late now and it’s not like you would decide differently if you were given the choice again.

“This one’s yours.” Nate finally stops in front of a door. Right on the door, engraved in a small plastic plate, is your name. You swallow nervously as Nate unlocks it and puts your baggage down inside against the wall next to the entrance.

You walk in and a small smile blooms on your face. It’s cosy. Not so small that it feels cramped but not big enough to make you feel lost in it either. The curtains are drawn over the windows and there is even a small kitchenette cramped into the corner next to one of the windows.

On the right side nestled into a corner is a decently sized desk and on the left opposite to it is the bed pushed against the wall.

You walk in looking through an open door on the right side at the end of the room. It’s the bathroom. At the far end of the tiled room you see another door. Once you’ve scanned every corner you turn back to ask Nate about the door and you catch him with his split tongue out. He blushes a brilliant red under his freckles and lifts his hand to rub the back of his head.

“Ah… sorry. I was just smelling the room.” He sheepishly admits and you cock your head at him in curiosity.

“I smell better with my mouth and tongue than I do with my nose and I wanted to get your scent.”

You laugh at the embarrassed expression on his face and he turns even redder which makes you shake your head and put your hands up. “No, no! I’m not laughing at you!”

You take a step in his direction. “Nate, I work with dog hybrids for a living. I’m used to being smelled.”

He seems taken aback by that then he grins. “Do you mind then?”

You shake your head and Nate takes a step closer his split tongue testing the air for a few moments before he steps back and nods. “Thank you. Not knowing how someone smells feels like I don’t fully know who they are. Like I never saw a their face.”

You nod. “If I say I understand that I’d be lying because I obviously do not experience these things like you do. But it makes sense, no need to be embarrassed.”

He seems happy with that and looks around the room. His eyes settle on another door in the middle of the right wall. He steps towards it.

“Through this you’ll get to Simon’s room. It’s exactly the same as yours just mirrored. His room also shares the bathroom with yours.”

Ah that’s the other door you noticed in the bathroom. Curiously you open it and look into Simon’s room. Just like Nate says it’s a perfectly mirrored version of yours. But it’s empty and suddenly you can’t stay a moment longer here without having seen Simon. You need to make sure he’s okay.

“Nate. Where is Simon? Can I see him?”

The snake hybrid once again scratches the back of his head. “It’s already late.”

“Please. I need to know he’s okay. I came all this way specifically for him.”

Nate looks at you for a long moment and whatever he sees in your expression makes him sigh and relent.

Your ribcage hurts from the violent beats of your heart as you follow Nate through the building. He leads you down so many turns that you’re sure you won’t find your way back on your own.

The fact that all the hallways look basically the same doesn’t help your orientation but all you think about is seeing Simon again. He’s probably mostly healed by now. Will he be excited to see you? After all he signed the agreement first.

Nate leads you down the corridor to a seeming dead end but when you get closer you see that there is actually a door at the end. You both stop before it and the snake hybrid gets his key card.

“Would you like me to go in first and make sure he’s calm?” He asks and you immediately shake your head.

“It will be fine.”

Nate presses his lips into a thin line but nods and unlocks the door. You wipe your palms on your pants the excitement of seeing him again almost overwhelming you. You’re here and he is here and everything will be fine.

The door opens and you step into the room. Simon’s on his feet at the other end and oh, he looks spectacular. You’ve been separated long enough that his health noticeably progressed during that time.

His ears perk forward and Nate slips into the room besides you, closing the door.

Seeing Simon standing on his own without any struggle fills you with relief and your eyes with tears. Physically he already looks so much better than you remember him and the joy of that realization almost makes you shake.

“It’s you.” He rumbles and you cannot restrain yourself anymore taking hasty steps in his direction. Giddy that he’s alive and on his feet and looks well. Everything will work out after all. You’ll take care of each other.

You realize your mistake too late, blinded by the happiness. Time seems to almost slow to a halt. For a moment Simon’s eyes widen, then his tail bristles and his ears press against his head, his lips peel back revealing his dangerous canines.

Your heart stops but you’re mere steps from him and before you can stop the malinois hybrid charges the last steps that separate you.

“No!” Nate shouts somewhere behind you but you barely hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Simon barrels into you, throwing you to the floor and your head cracks against the tiles making pain explode all over the back of it. Simon’s honey coloured eyes are narrowed in aggression and his growl rattles your bones. His big body presses you against the cold hard floor uncomfortably. Every bone aching from the fall.

His teeth flash and you barely have the time to throw up your arms, crossing them in front of you to shield your face and neck. His fangs sink into your forearm. The intensity of the pain almost makes you cry out and you grunt.

Your eyes widen as you look up at Simon’s expression, nose scrunched as he grinds his teeth deeper into your arm until you feel like he’ll break right through your bones. He’s growling like he wants to kill you. His broad shoulders block out the room behind him. All you can see is his vicious snarl and angry eyes.

For some reason it’s the trickle of blood running down to your elbow that catches your attention. How funny, you think, that your own blood can tickle you like this.

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 fade-prison angst rookanis snippet enjoy 🪶

Satisfied, Lucanis drops his rag back into his water pail, carefully rubs the stripped wood dry and turns to place its contents back to the surface. He wipes down the little tiered shelf with all her make-up pots, scratches the fingerprints and oils from the grooves of the intricate designs, takes care to re-arrange them in the same order she had them; shadows on the top tier, oily lip tints in the middle, flaky fragile glitters at the bottom. Her little lidless box of nail colors, he places back in the top right corner, by her standing mirror.

Removing the dust from the velvet that lines her jewelry box is harder. He closes the box to bring it to the kitchen; to soak the metals in rubbing alcohol and wipe the gems clean, to find his fabric brush and work fresh cleaning broth into the velvet. Maybe he'll drip some lavender oil into the folds.

The necklace he finds in her separate dish, the open, lacquered seashell rimmed in gold, makes him pause.

He remembers buying it, the second she'd turned away from the crystal peddler's stand in Treviso, after hearing its price and sighing. For this cheap little thing, tourmaline and aventurine on a chain so frail it seems to break if one but breathes on it wrong, the peddler asked for obscenely much money. Normally, Lucanis would have scoffed and turned away. But Rook had looked at it so longingly he felt he had no choice but to buy it anyway.

They'd barely been commited to each other three days.

Illario had broken the chain easily, grabbing her by the neck of her cloak and flinging her aside with surprising ease and clear intent to murder her and then him. Lucanis' little attention toward her torn apart almost symbolically.

Lucanis remembers telling her he could just get her a new one, remembers her shaking her head. It's the first thing you got for me, she'd said. She'd wrapped it in a torn piece of her shirt and placed it in her seam pocket with more care than he's seen parents handle their babe. I don't want to just replace it. Her hair had shaded her face a little, the sudden glint of her teeth just outside of unsettling. I want to treasure it and pass it on, someday. That cheap little chain that already started to change color and stain her skin, that cost the peddler all of three coppers to make. As though he'd hand-built her a bathhouse from pure gold.

Since then, it had waited, on its dish, in its shell, for the day there was time to go get it repaired.

Lucanis finds himself in that corner of her room, suddenly so impossibly big and cold and empty and suffocating, just as broken as that necklace.

The stool creaks underneath him, smelling of dust and old tapestry. He can feel the nails pricking into his skin, through his clothes. She'd complained about the cushion giving way beneath her before. He'd forgotten to have it repaired.

The energy to clean her room is punched out of him.

He hadn't protected the necklace from breaking. He couldn't save her from being snatched away into the Fade. He can't even tidy her space for her without falling into disrepair himself, it seems.

She thought the world of him, and not only could he not deliver, he failed her miserably. It churns his guts like cold cherry juice on an empty stomach.

Spite looks at him from under the table, awkwardly patting his right foot. Comfort is not a concept he's adept at.

His hands somehow feel small and chubby, the nailbeds rough and stained with blue paint. Lucanis doesn't know why he feels it through his boots.

He curls in on himself, head between his knees and hands pulling his hair.

Spite, for once, doesn't comment on his desperate wails.

🪶

idk if i like it yet, i wrote this on a whim. I have a tummy ache and the documentary my dad watches makes it look like Ramesses II only ever had sweet fluff loml moments :(

but on the bright side, i have a Big Storm planned hint hint [its a multichapter exploration of Fade Prison Angst]

@chubritza wassup

[~rina]

[mirainwonderland]

Leon Kennedy X afab!reader

Content: fluff, a little angsty, coming home for Christmas, established relationship

AN: listen I know it’s the day after Christmas mind your beeswax it’s a state of mind

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*<>*<>*<>*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Coming from a big family didn’t really make it easier, but even if you didn’t really have your parents around, at least you weren’t lonely. Your grandparents were everything you needed anyway, and it felt good to be back in your childhood home, surrounded by cousins, uncles, and aunts you hadn’t seen for a few years.

You were a little worried how Leon would react to coming home with you for the holidays. He knew what it was like to have absent parents too, but unlike you, he never had a big family or extravagant Christmases. In fact, you weren’t sure he celebrated until you came into his life and forced your love of the holiday into his space.

He never seemed to mind though. He was a hard man to read, but you were pretty sure that he enjoyed the little lights you set up, and the Christmas tree you made him get for the apartment. As for your family, they welcomed him like he was one of their own— but you knew they would. And even if he didn’t say much, he looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in a long time.

The snow filters down outside now as you sit quietly in the living room, looking up at the lit tree, the only luminance piercing the silent night. Your ankles are crossed, your arms folded over your knees as the angel that has been keeping her yearly vigil at the top of every Christmas tree seems to look down on you, like she’s happy to see you again.

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, but you can’t sleep. It’s almost as if the little child still inside of you is waiting to catch a glimpse of the jolly old man in red. To hear his footsteps on the roof and the jingle of the bells on his sleigh.

It’s not footsteps on the roof that creep up on you, however. You don’t really hear the shuffles across the carpeted floor until a deep voice, rough with sleep, stirs you from your nostalgia.

“Whatcha doin’, baby?”

You turn your head to see Leon behind you, squinting a little at the soft light, like he’d just woken up and hadn’t found you beside him.

“Hi.” You answer with a fond smile as you tilt your head back as far as it will go, watching as he comes around to sit cross-legged next to you. “Can’t sleep.”

Silence falls between you as you both stare at the tree; a comfortable, familiar silence. Christmas Eve was always a busy day in your house, ever since you were a little girl. Now that everything was quiet, and the chaos had died down, you realize how much you rather missed his quiet presence. Your shoulders lean, letting your head plop down on his shoulder.

“You know…” You murmur quietly, breaking the silence. “…when I was little… I almost always never slept on Christmas Eve.”

He listens quietly as nostalgia washes over you, taking you back to a simpler time where Christmas was magic, and all you had to worry about was whether that toy you really wanted was under that tree.

“So, I would sneak out here, and just sit and look at the tree… a little part of me hoping that I could get a glimpse of old Saint Nicholas.”

“And did you?” You don’t see the subtle, sleepy smile, but you hear it in his voice.

“No.” Your voice bubbles with a quiet laugh. “But that’s only ‘cause grandpa said he wouldn’t come unless everyone was asleep.”

The vibration of a warm, grounding laugh in his chest made you feel like the fire simmering low in the grand fireplace. You snuggle a little closer against his warm side and his head rests against the top of yours as his hand comes to brace on the carpet around you.

“But I always watched her.” You point to the top of the tree, where the faithful cherub looks down on the room with her hands folded so reverently in front of her. “I always wondered what it was like to talk to an angel.”

“I think I know.” You feel Leon’s eyes on you, and you turn to see him looking down at you with an unusually soft look in his eye. It makes your heart pound in the back of your throat.

In truth, you couldn’t never really understand what you’ve done for him by coming into his grey world and introducing him to sunlight. What it meant for you to drag him into your grandparents house and make him drink eggnog and eat stupid gingerbread men. To have snowball fights with your younger cousins and listen to your grandfather talk about his orchard. You couldn’t know any of that, and Leon wouldn’t tell you.

Not for a long time anyway.

But suddenly you wonder about him, and you wonder why he never seemed to talk about Christmas, or care about it, or even notice it’s passing until you came along and dragged him into it.

“Leon?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve never told me about what Christmas was like for you growing up.”

You don’t know for sure, but you’re almost sure feel a small chill breeze through the atmosphere, almost as if someone had opening a window and let in a gust of winter air. He’s silent for a moment, and you begin to wonder if you shouldn’t have asked.

“There’s not much to tell.” He finally says with a casual air. “They weren’t all that exciting.”

“Why not?” You feel your heart twist up a little in your chest, and you lift your head to turn it and look at him. He doesn’t mirror you, watching the lights on the tree instead as they cast shadows over his profile.

“Didn’t you get any gifts? Eat any apple pie?”

His lips purse and he gives a little shake of his head, making your heart a shade bluer for his sake. He looks so casual about it, like he made peace with it (or he buried it away), and it hurts your feelings.

“A couple times, but not very often.”

You let your head swivel back toward the tree, forehead crinkling as you frown about it the more you think about it.

“That’s sad.”

“Not really.” He finally turns his head to look at you. “I’m here now, and this is nice.”

Fingers brush your cheek and turn your face toward him as his thumb gently irons out the crinkles in your forehead.

“What’s with that face?” He hums in the back of his throat, his voice deep and coaxing as he tries to chase away the shadows clouding your pretty face.

“Because you sound like you were lonely.”

“I’m not anymore though, am I?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

“See? I’ve got you.” His thumb brushes gentle patterns against the apple of your cheeks, watching the way your eyelashes flutter with each movement. “And that’s more than enough for me.”

He must have seen the way your eyes mist over, cause he gives you a reassuring smile before he leans in to leave a quiet kiss against your nose. His fingers crescent your cheek to touch the bottom of your chin, blue eyes flickering over your face in the low light of the Christmas tree.

He watches you for a moment before he tilts his head to kiss you, on your lips this time, tugging on your chin to bring you closer. Your eyes close and air floods into your lungs as though a spark of some long lost Christmas magic came to bless you again.

His lips part from yours with the gentlest sound in the quiet living room. Pinching your chin between his fingers before he lets you go, he takes your hand in his and motions with his head in the general direction of bed.

“C’mon. Santa Claus can’t come unless everyone’s asleep.”

With a smile, you follow him to your feet and let him thread your fingers together to pull you back into the dark, quiet house. You glance back over your shoulder, meeting the eye of the angel that faithfully guards her tree. Your grandparents have gotten older, your cousins have grown and had children of their own… but she’s never changed. She stays at the top of her tree, quietly watching, quietly blessing.

A suddenly, you catch a glimpse of what it must have been like for a group of shepherds all those thousands of years ago.

Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth, peace, and goodwill to all men.

As for Leon, he never had to wonder. Because as he crawled back into bed next to you and felt you snuggle into his side, he knew what it was like to have an angel under his very arm.

[writingbluerose]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! | twst x reader

summary : being in another world you never got to spend Christmas with anyone, lucky for you, your family is always here to help

warnings : none :3 ; reader is Yuu and she's girl!

a / n : I'm super busy with my family on holidays so I'm giving you this short story because y'all deserve it! Also this may be a Skully x reader if you squit your eyes.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!

You could hear the fire cackling in the fireplace bear you. Outside the Ramshackle dorm, the snow was slowly falling from the grey sky, no sun in sight. Everyone left for the holidays, which left you all alone in the campus once again, but this time there was no overblot in sight.

After a while, you caught with the corner of your eye how Grim jumped on the couch, setting himself on th spot next to you. “Why so blue henchhuman? Everyone finally left and we got the campus to ourselves!” You sighed and gave the cat a small smile. “Oh don't get me wrong Grim, I do enjoy the silence, but I'm kinda sad I don't get to celebrate Christmas with anyone you know?” At your statement, the grey cat gave you a confused look. “Christmas? What's that?” Oh yeah, you almost forgot people here don't know anything about that. You looked at the confused cat again and smiled at him. “That's nothing, don't mind me and my silly thoughts alright?” Grim knew you didn't mean a word you just said, he looked down in thought then raised his head again. “If you say so! I'm going to search for some tuna cans to eat!” He jumped excitedly off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. You let out a laugh and moved your attention to the white landscape outside the window.

Without you noticing, a faint glow appeared on the wall behind you. The portrait which was glowing turned fully white, signaling the one in it got out. You felt two hands on your shoulders and a happy laugh. You knew who that was without even looking. “I for one would love to hear more about Christmas! It sounds like an amazing holiday!” You turned to gaze to the boy behind you, two orange eyes looking excitedly into yours. “It's nothing too special Skully. It's just a simple holiday from back home” “Tell me, tell me! I'm curious now my dear!” You laughed at him and gave him a smile. “Well if you insist, the alright” Skully sat on the spot next to you with his hands on his knees waiting for your tale. “Well, it's practically like this...”

“That's amazing! I never knew you had such an amazing holiday and such amazing traditions! I'll be more than happy to celebrate Christmas with you my dear!” “Oh no no! There's really no need Skully! I mean we don't even have all the things for it, and it's practically tomorrow! We really don't need to- ” Skully grabbed your hands and moved closer to you with one of the biggest smiles he's capable of “I insist! We'll have the best Christmas party ever! I promise you!” Before you tried convincing him otherwise the other ghosts came back in the lounge. “What's this about a party we're hearing? We want to join in too” “Ah perfect! Listen to me my friends!” And so Skully proceeded to tell the ghosts everything about you just told him. You were staying on the couch still, with your face buried in your hands. How did it come to this? “So you see! It's important for our dear Y/N to have the best Christmas party ever!” The ghosts looked at each other and then smiled brightly at you. “We'll be honored to help! Miss Y/N is family! So her happiness is ours! You can count on us Mr. Skully!” “Amazing then!” While discussing their plans, Grum couldn't come at a worse time. Getting Grim to, it seems that now it was impossible for you to stop anymore.

You were outside your dorm, sitting in the snow. Skully and the others rushed you out of the dorm to make preparations for the party, the ghosts had gone out of their way to even find a Christmas tree for you, you suppose they decorated it since it kinda took them quite long to prepare everything, you were out for almost 5 hours after all. In that time you paid a visit to Mostro Lounge, the Octavinelle boys were more than happy to accompany you while eating, surprisingly, the food was on the house. After a while of staying there, you came back to take strolls outside your dorm, taking th same steps you usually take with Malleus when he comes by. After some time, you heard Grim's voice calling you from the entrance door. “Y/N! We're done! Come on fast!” You made your way inside and you couldn't believe your eyes. Everything, from top to bottom was covered in decorations, red, gold and some occasional black as the color of the dorm. “What...how did you even do this? Where did you get all this from?! You even decorated the Christmas Tree! With a start too! Wh-how...?” Skully came and hugged you tight, happy with your reaction. “See? We told you we would make the perfect party for you!” “Yeah! We even stole from the school's kitchen to make the food! And it's super tasty by the way!” Grim jumped on your shoulder giving you a wife grin. “Now come on come on! Let's get this party started!” Skully and the ghosts went and grabbed the food to set them on a table in the lounge and urged you to eat. Never in all the time you were here were you this happy.

The party ended some time ago. You were staying with Skully under his portrait, his hand holding yours. “Can't believe you made all this for me Skully” He looked at you with a smile. You almost forgot how he looked with his black glasses on his eyes, but his orange eyes never failed to amaze you. “Of course my dear friend! Always! This house is your home, and the others are your family! I just did what I needed to, for you. I have to thank you for staying with me for so long after all” He raised the back of your hand to his mouth and kissed it, keeping his lips there for a while longer. You looked at him and smiled, lowering your head on his shoulder, his head coming to rest on yours. “Thank you, Skully” He smiled. “You're welcome my dear, and, Merry Christmas” Your smile got wider as you answered him in a whisper. “Yes, Merry Christmas to you too”

You think that, after all, that you're grateful for what you've gotten when you came here.

[secondsistershelby3]

Pairings : Silco x Jinx's sister!reader

Summary : You were Powder's twin sister or as Silco had started calling her, Jinx. You weren't as smart as her, you could fight well enough but nothing more and yet Silco took you along with her when Vander died. After 7 years you find yourself in the following situation

Warnings : !no series spoilers!, smut, 18+, semi-public sex, blowjob, let's pretend that Jinx is not a minor and that all this is legal and therefore EVERYTHING LEGAL, fluff with Silco (HE NEEDS IT)

Notes : It seemed longer, I hope it's good anyway

"Can't you delay the meeting?" You were lying on your back with your legs crossed. You asked the question in a bored tone to Silco.

"you know I can't" Silco looked at you leaning on his chair

You snorted like a little girl when she doesn't get candy. You may not have inherited the same talents as Jinx but you certainly inherited the character.

"how boring you are" you turned on your stomach, one hand under your chin and one dangling as you looked at him with an increasingly bored face

"who cares if you postpone the meeting, they'll talk bullshit whether you postpone it or not" you dangled your other arm and let your face hit the desk

Silco sighed and approached with the chair "it won't last long"

"You always say that" your voice was almost incomprehensible given your face against the desk

Silco reached out to caress your head, he hesitated almost before touching you but finally he put it down and began to slowly caress your hair.

After almost a minute of silence with Silco caressing you, you untied and placed your hand on top of Silco's as you lifted your head and leaned to one side

"you're such a dick sometimes" Silco laughed at your statement. You reached out to put your arms around his neck and slowly got on his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder

You started kissing his neck. Silco gently pushed you back "no, we all know how this will end" he said with a hint of severity but also sweetness

You huffed louder and angrily stood up from his lap. Silco called you sighing "have your fucking meeting" you walked out of his office slamming the door. Silco put his hands on his face. Any person would have already died if they even tried to talk to Silco like that but not you.

---

"Can you believe that asshole preferred to have that fucking meeting than being with me?!" You ate a piece of apple. You were sitting on the sofa, with Mylo's mannequin next to you

You put your legs on the table in front of you "for him talking to other assholes like Finn is more important than being with me. WHAT THE FUCK" You said angry with pieces of apples in your mouth

You sighed and let your head fall back against the couch, reaching for another piece of apple.

"I'll teach that asshole a lesson...." You threw the apple core on the floor and got up from the sofa

---

It hadn't been long since you had rushed out of Silco's office and gone to your corner, but the meeting Silco was supposed to attend was about to start.

You ran to Silco's office, Sevika was in front of the door "what are you going to do?" She asked sharply as usual. "uuuhhh do you always want to know where I am?" You grinned, stopping in front of her. She huffed and turned her head and you used that moment to walk in hearing Sevika whisper "brat"

Silco who at that moment was smoking his usual cigar, raised his head and saw you enter "is the teenage anger over?" he asked sarcastically

"What do you think?" You smiled with your hands behind your back. You slowly walked behind the desk where Silco was sitting. He watched you move carefully until you turned his chair towards you.

"You were very mean to me before" you whispered lowering your hand from the top of the chair to the arm

"we already talked about it-" Silco closed his eyes in despair but you interrupted him "ok, I accept it" you smiled going between his legs. Your hands went further and further down and in the meantime your knees also went down. "Don't try it, the meeting is about to-"

"boss, they're here!"

Silco tried to pull you up but you quickly ducked under the desk and forcefully pulled the chair Silco was sitting in towards the desk, At that moment they all came in: Finn, Renni, Smeech, Chross and Margot

Silco glanced at you as everyone walked in.

You didn't really focus on what they were saying because you only had one thing on your mind: to teach Silco a lesson.

You started groping above the crotch of Silco's pants, you felt him stiffen, but he continued to speak with ease. Licking your lips, you quickly moved on to pulling down the zipper of his pants without making too much noise, as you pulled it down you felt Silco's hand grab your wrist.

You looked up at him, smiled and moved closer to his hand that was grabbing your wrist, you kissed it slowly from knuckles to fingers, after a few seconds he gently let go of your wrist.

It didn't take you long to pull his underwear down enough to let his cock out, you started licking it, you heard Silco cough to cover his grunt

"What's the matter, do you have a cold?" Finn asked sarcastically "more or less" Silco said without amusement

You continued to tease him by licking his cock until you took the tip in your mouth, his hand suddenly grabbed your hair. By now you couldn't even hear his voice anymore, you could only taste of his cock, you took it more and more in your mouth, you didn't see that Silco was putting his hand on his forehead pretending to have a headache

"Are you at least listening to us Silco?" Smeech asked arrogantly

"I'm listening" Silco replied a little too aggressively

You started sucking Silco's cock mercilessly, his hand trying to guide you without attracting too much attention

It was so good, every time it felt like the first time. Jinx didn't know about all this, you don't know how she would react and right now you don't want to know

Silco's hand seemed to be going slightly faster, a sign that he was about to come, the plan was to let go without letting him reach the peak, so you tried to pull away, but his grip was so hard that you could barely take your mouth off his cock, he pushed you deeper and you almost let out a gargle that everyone would hear.

You felt his seed in your mouth, his hand suddenly left you and you leaned back. Silco put his hands on his face and sighed, he hadn't even noticed that two tufts had fallen out of his I got off on my face

You smirked as you closed your eyes and wiped some of his seed that had fallen onto your chin.

Time passed and you didn't even notice, you didn't hear everyone leave. Silco bent down to talk to you "now we have a score to settle-" as soon as he bent down he saw your sleeping figure. He shook his his head and smiled, zipped up his pants, and reached under the desk to pick you up.

He put you on his knees , your head automatically rested on his shoulder. He turned his chair towards the huge window, looked out and then at you. He pushed your face towards him slightly and moved a lock of your hair, he stared at you for almost a minute

"You're lucky I love you brat" he gently rested your head on his shoulder

You had the Eye of Zaun in your hands you didn't even know it

"How long have you been there?" Silco asked as he continued to stare out the enormous window.

"since everyone left" Jinx replied lying on the board on the ceiling

"Do you have anything to say?" Silco asked, stroking your hair.

"I'm a little angry that you didn't tell me anything, but as long as you don't leave, because I may be your daughter but she's my sister" she rolled over onto her stomach "and I'm still willing to do something to you"

Silco smirked "you don't have to worry about that" Jinx hadn't even realized she had called herself his daughter It was strange but also comfortable.

He looked down at you "you don't have to worry at all" he kissed your head gently and relaxed back into the chair"

It had been a tough day but it had ended well.

[ceo-of-jennette-de-alger-obelia]

Drawing my au version of Whitley is so comforting to me now, no thoughts only pretty boy

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, established relationship, whiny nanami, cowgirl, mdni.

nanami loses his mind whenever his dick slips out of you.

thin blond strands of hair stick to his forehead as he stares at you. “sweetheart,” he almost pouts, hearing nothing but white noise in his ears as you’re jerking your body up and down against him. you felt so good, the warmth you always provided for him made him fall more and more in love. your saturated grip was merely addicting. he was quite literally drowning in your cunt. he found himself licking his lips, tossing his head back in bliss with a beefy arm clinging onto the rickety headboard. nanami uses his free hand to hold onto your waist, padded calloused thumbs brushing up and down your waist. “ugh, you do it s- so well, ride me so good,” and his words were like a broken record, a broken whisper. despite its raspiness, you could still hear the neediness lingering underneath. he looked so pretty, glossed up with tears of damp sweat. nanami’s mahongy blown irises rolling back before a low grunt pours from his lips.

“kento, ‘m close,” and as those sweet three words left your quivering spit-glossed lips, you let off a pitchy loud moan. your knees dig themselves deep into his thighs. as you vigorously rock further against his lap, it happens. he’s got a hand attaches to your waist only for his cock to abruptly slip itself out of your slippery cunt mid thrust and you could hear a tiny gasp leave his lips.

“o- oh fuck,” he groans, blinking twice. his entire palm creeps up against your ass as he pants. even the way he swore sounded angelic. the squelching pop sound that created from the sloppy action of your hips makes his ears ring. nanami buries his face into the forbidden crook of your neck in sheer embarrassment, wrapping a few thick fingers over his veiny length. “let me put it back in, s- sweetheart. stay still . . please.”

there was so much entreating beg in his voice, he felt the furrowing curl of his eyebrows compress together before he sprawls your thighs apart further with a single hand.

“okay,” you hum, feeling a breeze of wind rip straight out of your lungs. you’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been, riding him until he was a dumb pussy drunken mess. nanami felt his cock twitch at any and every word escaped from your lips. he could listen to your voice all day and never grow tired. your voice was his own favorite song to listen to on loop. “put it back in, ‘ken.”

“anything for you, my love,” he huffs, broad arms wrapping around your torso. he held you close, never wanting to let go.

the parching hot temperature of your own body radiates against him - your chest, it presses up onto his own and he practically feels himself melting from your balmy heat.

“s- so soaked for me.” he points out with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, preparing to re-align himself. nanami finds himself gawking at just how wet you were, creating a sheeny trail of your heat all on his lap. it made his mouth water at the thought of him licking it right up. he never minded to be messy — especially for you.

anytime you let him go inside, he makes it his entire life goal to make sure you feel good.

you let off a whimper, skimming a few trembly fingers down his faded undercut as he’s going back inside. you can hear his irregular pants as he’s smearing his damp cockhead against your entrance. nanami stares down, practically about to cum just from going back in.

with ease, you suck him in slowly and that moment was gonna always be embedded into his brain. you always swallowed him in so good. his girth, it stretches you open right away and your pussy greets him yet again with another greeting welcome. “k- kento, fuuuck.”

“i know, i know,” he pants, maneuvering soothing circles around your back with a clammy palm. you still had your knees dug into his thighs, making a cute attempt to start moving again. both bodies so close, perspiring with sweat that you start to stick and glue against him. with his sculpted jaw tightening, nanami can’t help but give the left cheek of your ass a nice squeeze. “oh, sweetheart. ‘m not gonna last if you keep— keep clamping down on me like t- this, fuck.”

as he’s fully inside again and his eyes salaciously roll way back, the powerful jerk of your hips starts to accelerate again and he’s already dumb.

dumb from your sweet, sweet cunt - his true enemy, you had him whipped.

there’s already a milky white ring coating around his thickset base. each time you jolt up from his lap only to slam back down, you hear the squelches of your own slippery cunt.

it’s messy, he’s messy. only for you though.

nanami feels the warm palm of your hands playfully shove him back against the fluffed pillows that’s directly behind him. “ah,” he lands back with a sheepish expression, gentle umber colored eyes flickering at your grinding body. “w- what’s this?”

“lie back, ken,” you murmur to him, feeling the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kiss up against your most sweetest spots. it took everything in you for your thighs - for your legs to not collapse right then and there. you see more teary beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead as he clings onto your unstable waist. “there . . good,” you purr to him, sliding a hand up his abs, a finger ghosting down his chiseled v-line and further back down toward his visible blond happy trail. “good boy.”

he swallows — a soft noise leaving out of him. nanami felt his cock twitch again, and this time, you felt it too. “s- say it again,” he pleads, his voice gruff yet still needy. you steady your hips, creating more haste before pressing a kiss into his neck. “c- call me that again, sweetheart.”

“good boy, kento,” you repeat in a whisper, realizing that he actually got off to your praises. he melts again, this time at your words. the bed creaks and grates in rapture, sweaty bodies mirroring springy movements in sync before he abruptly sinks his face into your chest.

“praise me more,” he utters hoarsely, and you let off a soft moan as he shifts himself underneath you.

you’re still bouncing on him, hearing the groaning springs of the bed sing out a lewd tune of its own and your back arches. as you felt brief bittersweet pangs near the undersides of your thighs spread like wildfire, he whines.

“mhh,” and within seconds, you feel the wet tip of nanami’s tongue lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest. pretty lashes of his flutter shut before he holds your hips in firm place. as you stare down, his twitching thickset cock still concealed deep within your walls, he pouts one more time, squished face tuck right between your chest.

“please. praise me again, my love. pretty please.”

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.

[fanonsupremecy]

Mickey they could never make me hate you. Even WHEN you were the dirtiest white boy in America. V THAT MAY BE TRUE but he's also soooo pretty so he gets a pass cuz he's so babyboy and babygirl and an angel that deserved so better like fucking love and compassion and pride and adoration from his fucking shithead father. (if you can't tell I'm on my season 2 shit) honestly he was so much more dirty white boy tm in season 1 tho...

”I came out for you, you piece of shit”

YES YOU DID MICKEY. YES THE FUCK YOU DID.

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!